by J. D. Robb
“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 zzzs 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 skinsuit 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,” Roarke exclaimed.
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 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
&nb
sp; 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 five hundred 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
Anthologies
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
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Robb, J. D., 1950– author.
Title: Dark in death: an Eve Dallas novel / J. D. Robb.
Description: First edition. |New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018012056 | ISBN 9781250161567 (hardcover: alk. paper) | ISBN 9781250161581 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Dallas, Eve (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Policewomen—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3568.O243 L49 2018 | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018012056
eISBN 9781250161581
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First Edition: September 2018
