Leverage in Death--An Eve Dallas Novel Read online

  “Elegant,” Roarke decreed as Nadine stepped up. “Just exactly right.”

  Eve guessed so. She’d gone sleek and classic and deep gold. Not sparkling but gleaming and slithering down to a kind of liquid trail behind her. Diamonds dripped from her ears and formed two wide cuffs on her wrists. Beside her, Jake went for the rocker-style formal. Leather tux jacket and boots, plain white shirt, long tie worn loose at the neck.

  “She’s nervous,” Eve noticed.

  “She is, yes, but it wouldn’t show unless you know her. Handles herself very well, don’t you think?”

  “Mavis is keeping it bouncing. It helps.”

  “You completely have to buzz with Peabody and McNab. Hey, Peabody! Come on up!” Mavis urged.

  The camera panned for a split second to Peabody’s stunned, somewhat terrified face before Mavis bounced right down. She grabbed one of Peabody’s hands, one of McNab’s, bounced right back.

  “Detectives Peabody and McNab, NYPSD. Best fricking PSD in the universe of PSDs. We’re having the most magalicious time together. Come on, we gotta do a shout-out. Hey, Dallas! Hey, Roarke! You better be watching.”

  She laughed, circled her arms around Nadine and Peabody. “Shout-out. Come on!”

  Nadine laughed, losing that edge of nerves in her eyes.

  They shouted out.

  “There you are. Now you can say, with perfect truth, you watched and you heard.”

  “Yeah.” Eve munched popcorn. “And I’m not there answering stupid questions and wearing one of those outfits. It works.”

  Plus, she figured she could catch some more z’s while people droned on. And on.

  The cat curled up at the small of her back. She had a bowl of butter-and-salt-drenched corn, and she could snuggle into Roarke, just close her eyes.

  She woke, mumbling, when Roarke elbowed her.

  “Mavis is about to perform.”

  Eve blinked at the screen. “Everybody’s inside.”

  “And have been for about a half hour. Nothing went on of interest to you. Shift over, will you, pour us some more wine.”

  Eve shifted, poured, yawned, sipped wine.

  The stage went dark. A drum began to beat. A spotlight flashed on a single figure.

  Mavis didn’t wear the gown now, but a skin suit of silver lights on black, silver knee-high boots.

  She hit the first note, a howl rising from guttural low to wailing high.

  Then she rocked it, dancing over the stage in that single light, belting out the song. She pointed, another light, another figure, and another, another.

  “Jesus,” Eve murmured as her oldest friend fronted a dozen dancers on the stage in perfect and complex choreography. Singing in a voice straight from the gut.

  “She’s good, really good. When did she get so good?”

  “She doesn’t have to shock for attention. She already has it. She’s quite marvelous really, and always was in her way.”

  Eve watched, transfixed. The other lights winked off, one by one until Mavis stood alone again. Another howl, and the stage went black.

  “Listen to them. They’re cheering for her, all for her. You always knew,” Eve told him.

  “I knew she could perform,” Roarke said. “And I knew we’d do well enough when I signed her. But I’ll admit she exceeded expectations.” He turned, brushed his lips to hers. “Need another nap?”

  “I guess that woke me up. Shit. Here’s to Mavis freaking Freestone.”

  Roarke clinked glasses. “I believe we should switch to champagne.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  He got up for a bottle, for flutes. Popped it. He poured, then settled back in again. “I’m going to think more seriously about putting in that home theater.”

  “This is nice.”

  “It’s very nice, but so would that be. Dear Christ.” He sat up, gulped champagne after absently eating some of the popcorn. “Why the bloody hell do I do that? Every bleeding time.”

  “I don’t know what your problem is. It’s delicious. But more for me.” She ate a handful.

  “You’d eat cardboard if it was covered in butter and salt.”

  “Corn’s better.”

  “That corn? Marginally. Ah, Nadine’s category’s in the next segment.”

  “It is?”

  “Best adapted screenplay.”

  “Right. I wish it was over with. What are her odds?”

  “According to the buzz, it’s mixed. Stiff competition in both writing categories.”

  “Both?”

  “Original, and adaptation,” Roarke explained, and caught himself before he reached for more popcorn. “She’s adaptation—screenplay based on her book.”

  “Got it. Still wish it was over. Getting this far’s a big, right?”

  “A very big. Here come the presenters. There are six in her category nominated.”

  “How do they … Shit, they said her name. There she is. Mavis is back, that’s good. And she’s got everybody else right there, so…”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying Nadine as the other nominees came on in adjoining squares. Looks calm, Eve thought, but she’s not.

  Get it over with. Why don’t they stop talking and get it—

  “And the Oscar goes to, Nadine Furst, The Icove Agenda.”

  “Holy shit. Jesus, she won? She won?”

  “This is a moment.”

  Eve watched, dumbstruck, as Jake planted a big one on Nadine, as Mavis bounced and squealed, as Peabody actually jumped up to dance.

  And Nadine, elegant and sleek—hands shaking some—walked to the stage, climbed the stairs. Hugged two people she probably didn’t know. Clutched the gold statue.

  “Oh,” she managed. “God. I’m just … I wrote something in case—and I left it in my purse. So here goes.”

  “She’s crying a little,” Eve noted. Nadine was thanking the Academy, the cast, the crew, the director, her friends. “And talking really fast.”

  “She only has so much time.”

  “Now … We gave you a shout-out, Dallas and Roarke, on the red carpet. Here’s another. You’re the reason, both of you. But, Dallas, as much as you’re going to hate this—being Dallas—this is as much yours as mine. I’m putting it in my place, but it’s yours, too. I’m sharing this amazing award with the smartest, bravest, most dedicated cop and frustrating person I know. Thanks. Holy crap! Thanks!”

  “And that,” Roarke said, “is my very favorite acceptance speech in the history of them.”

  “Jesus.” Eve scrubbed at her face. “Between her and Mavis, they’ve got me dripping. I’m glad for her, I really am. I have to be. But, Christ on a tricycle, Roarke, this is going to be a pain in my ass. As if it wasn’t enough of one before.”

  He laughed, hugged her in. “Just think what a pain in your ass it’ll be if it wins best picture.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t think that. Don’t put that out there.”

  “To Nadine,” he said. She huffed, but clinked.

  “Okay, but that’s it. One’s enough. No more.”

  “Well, we’ll wait and see, won’t we?”

  The Icove Agenda took five Oscars, including best adapted screenplay, best director, best cinematography, best actress, and the big guns. Best picture.

  A little shell-shocked, Eve dragged herself into bed.

  “It’ll never end now. Never end.”

  On a laugh, Roarke snuggled her in, kissed the back of her neck. “There, there.”

  “Bite me,” she muttered.

  She closed her eyes and, consoling herself that the job would keep her too busy to worry about it, willed herself to sleep.

  TITLES BY J. D. ROBB

  Naked in Death

  Glory in Death

  Immortal in Death

  Rapture in Death

  Ceremony in Death

  Vengeance in Death

  Holiday in Death

  Conspiracy in Death

  Loyalty in Death

  Witness in
Death

  Judgment in Death

  Betrayal in Death

  Seduction in Death

  Reunion in Death

  Purity in Death

  Portrait in Death

  Imitation in Death

  Divided in Death

  Visions in Death

  Survivor in Death

  Origin in Death

  Memory in Death

  Born in Death

  Innocent in Death

  Creation in Death

  Strangers in Death

  Salvation in Death

  Promises in Death

  Kindred in Death

  Fantasy in Death

  Indulgence in Death

  Treachery in Death

  New York to Dallas

  Celebrity in Death

  Delusion in Death

  Calculated in Death

  Thankless in Death

  Concealed in Death

  Festive in Death

  Obsession in Death

  Devoted in Death

  Brotherhood in Death

  Apprentice in Death

  Echoes in Death

  Secrets in Death

  Dark in Death

  Leverage in Death

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Silent Night

  (with Susan Plunkett, Dee Holmes, and Claire Cross)

  Out of This World

  (with Laurell K. Hamilton, Susan Krinard, and Maggie Shayne)

  Remember When

  (with Nora Roberts)

  Bump in the Night

  (with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)

  Dead of Night

  (with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)

  Three in Death

  Suite 606

  (with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)

  In Death

  The Lost

  (with Patricia Gaffney, Mary Blayney, and Ruth Ryan Langan)

  The Other Side

  (with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)

  Time of Death

  The Unquiet

  (with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)

  Mirror, Mirror

  (with Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Mary Kay McComas, and R. C. Ryan)

  Down the Rabbit Hole

  (with Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Mary Kay McComas, and R. C. Ryan

  About the Author

  J. D. Robb is the pseudonym for the New York Times bestselling author of more than two hundred novels, including the futuristic suspense In Death series. There are more than 500 million copies of the author’s books in print. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Epigraphs

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Titles by J. D. Robb

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  LEVERAGE IN DEATH. Copyright © 2018 by Nora Roberts. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Ervin Serrano

  Cover photographs: texture © Janaka Dharmasena/Shutterstock.com; paper © iStock/Nikola Vukojevic; building © iStockMbprojekt Maciej Bledowski

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-16156-7 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-250-16158-1 (ebook)

  eISBN 9781250161581

  Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].

  First Edition: September 2018