Reunion in Death

She'd had to leave a brand-new gown and shoes behind, as well as several other lovely outfits. And she'd missed her seaweed plunge and mud wrap.

Well, there would be payment made.

Sniffling, she rolled onto her back. If that little Italian twit in reservations hadn't come through, she might have found herself hauled out of bed by the police. Infuriating. Humiliating.

But that hadn't happened. To calm herself, Julianna breathed deeply and quietly as she'd taught herself in prison. It hadn't happened because she was always prepared, always ahead. And it had been Eve Dallas who'd lost this battle, as she'd lost the others in this newly waged war.

That was enough comfort to give Julianna a slight lift. Imagine, racing all the way to Italy only to find an empty suite. And that clever little message. Yes, that had been a stylish touch.

In any case, she'd come back to New York to work specifically to pit herself against Eve Dallas. So it was foolish to become so upset and overwrought when the woman proved herself to be a skilled foe.

So skilled, Julianna mused, that it might be best to back off a bit. At least temporarily. This last skirmish had unnerved her. And yet…

It was all so exciting. She'd missed this blood rush, this adrenaline spike when she'd been inside. The only way to bring it all to peak was to finish what she'd planned to do.

Destroy Eve Dallas, once and for all.

What better way to do that than by killing the man she was weak enough to love? With the added bonus of going down in history as the woman who murdered the invulnerable Roarke.

It was really all so perfect. Julianna lifted her hands, turned them, and pouted a bit when she noticed she'd chipped a nail.

Eve ran short, unpainted nails over the heel of a black evening shoe. «The Italian police were persuaded to turn over all personal items from Dunne's suite. This shoe is new. There's barely any marks on the sole. It's Italian, but with American sizing. My shoe authority…» she glanced toward Roarke as she briefed her team «tells me this means she most likely purchased it here in New York before leaving for Italy.»

She tossed the shoe to McNab. «Run it, see if you can find out where she bought it, for what it's worth.»

«She's got little feet.»

«Yeah, she's a real dainty man killer. As you're aware, we focus now on the upcoming event at the Regency. Feeney, you're in charge of electronics surveillance, security, and so on. We have the commander's go to put as many men on this as we need. Do. You'll have to keep to background as the subject knows you. She's going to think twice if she shows up and sees a known cop at some snazzy charity deal.»

«They usually have good food at those things.»

«You'll get fed. Peabody, there's a strong likelihood she'd recognize you. She researches and would have studied my aide. You'll remain in the on-site Control.»

«Get your own plate,» Feeney told her.

«McNab, we can risk you. You'll dude yourself up appropriately and work the ballroom.»

«Hey, frigid.»

«If she uses this opportunity to attempt a hit on the target, it's most likely she'll do it as server or staff. Easier to blend, to go unnoticed, to get in close enough to do the job. She'll know the target very well.»

«The target has a name.»

She met Roarke's eyes. «We know your name. So does she. She'll know you have superior security and superior instincts. She'll know you'll be cautious. But she'll also believe that you are unaware you're a target, that you'll feel reasonably comfortable at this sort of event, at your ease with the small talk and the mingling.»

And he would, she thought, while her nerves would be balled up into slippery wires. «She doesn't know, or can't be sure, if I've copped to her moving on you. Her other New York targets have all been similar to her previous choices. You don't fit pattern. She'll consider that one of her advantages. The hit will take form in a drink or possibly some finger food. That means you eat and drink nothing. Nothing whatsoever.»

«It promises to be a very long evening. I have a stipulation here, if you don't mind, Lieutenant.»

«What?»

«The possibility remains you are her target, or that she hopes to take a two-for-one with us.» He inclined his head as he saw this had occurred to her already. «Therefore, you eat or drink nothing right along with me.»

«Fine. The media's already picked up the bone about the large contribution Roarke is presenting to Louise Dimatto that evening. This is an open door for her, and she will go through it.» Eve had thought long and hard about it. «She will. I nipped at her heels in Italy this morning, put the skids on her nice little holiday. She doesn't care to be crossed. She'll be pissed, but she'll also be determined. So am I. So am I pissed and determined to slam that door shut on her.»