"Backup, goddamn it, where's my backup?" She yanked out her communicator on the run. Her side was aching like a rotted tooth.

"Officer needs assistance. In foot pursuit of suspect, identified as Julianna Dunne, heading north on Seventh at Bleeker. All units, all units in the vicinity, respond."

She raced across the crosswalk, against the light, springing onto the hood of a sedan, then catapulting herself off. "In pursuit, damn it, of female suspect, blonde, thirty-four, five four, one hundred- fifteen, wearing red skin suit."

She jammed the communicator away. Cursed the crowds of people that made it impossible to risk using her weapon. She holstered it, and dug for more speed.

There was blood in her mouth, blood dribbling into her right eye. But she'd eaten up another five feet of Julianna's lead. Fast, Eve thought as the adrenaline hummed in her head. Got herself in shape, knows how to run.

She could hear sirens scream in the distance, and bore down. She was only two body-lengths behind when Julianna flicked back a glance. And smirked.

It took her out from behind, a low body slam that sent her flying up like a rock in a catapult. She had enough time to think, What the fuck? before she fell with a bone-rattling crash. The back of her head smacked smartly into the pavement, and turned her world into spinning stars. Voices came and went like the tide of the sea.

She managed to roll over, retching, and gain her hands and knees.

"Did I do it? Did I?" The bright, excited voice drilled into her spinning brain. She blinked up and stared into the freckled faces of two young boys. Another blink and the faces sucked into each other and became one.

"It looked good, it looked real, right? Man, you flew." Clutching a fluorescent green airboard, he danced in place. "I slammed into you, just like I was supposed to."

She made some sound, spat out blood, then pushed up to her knees.

"Lieutenant! Dallas! God almighty." Thoroughly winded, Peabody pushed through the crowd. "She take you out?" "This little..." She couldn't think of a word. "I'm all right. Go! Go! She's heading north."

With one fearful look at her lieutenant, Peabody took off. "You." Eve crooked a finger at the boy. "Come down here." "Boy, that blood looks real. That's iced."

His face wavered and split again, so she snarled at both of him. "You little schmuck, you just assaulted a police officer in pursuit of a suspect." He hunkered down and lowered his voice. "Are we still on camera?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Where do you learn to do stunts like that anyway? How come you don't get hurt when you fall?"

"I am hurt, you stupid little-" She bit off the rest, fought to keep her vision from going from wavey gray to solid black. He couldn't have been more than ten, and his cheerful face was beginning to show some fear and confusion.

"Like for real hurt, or on the vid hurt?" "This isn't a video."

"But she said it was a vid. And when you came running after her, I should slam right into you on my board. I got fifty dollars. And I get fifty more if I did a good job."

Two uniforms pushed through the crowd, ordering people back. "You need medical attention, Lieutenant?" "Did you get her?"

They looked at each other, then down at Eve. "Sorry, sir. We lost her.

We've got foot and vehicular patrols doing a sweep. We may get her yet." "No." Eve dropped her head onto her knees as a vicious wave of nausea churned in her belly. "You won't."

"Are you really a cop?" The kid tugged Eve gingerly on the sleeve.

"Am I in trouble? Man, my mom's going to kill me."

"Get a statement from this kid, then take him home." The sea rushed in again, ebbed again, but she got shakily to her feet.

"Sir." Red-faced, sweaty, and panting like a dog, Peabody limped up.

"I'm sorry. I never even caught sight of her. We've got a net out, but..." "Yeah, she's blown."

"You better sit down." Peabody grabbed Eve's arm when she swayed.

"I'll call the MTs." "I don't want the frigging MTs."

"You're really banged up."

"I said I don't want them. Back off." She started to pull free, watched Peabody's worried face turn to triplets. "Ah, shit," she managed, and actually felt her own eyes roll back in her head before she passed out.

CHAPTER 15

The next thing she knew she was flat out on the sidewalk and a couple of medical technicians were hulking over her. "I said no."

One ran a sensor wand over her face. "Didn't break the jaw or cheekbone. Lucky. Looks like she was hit in the face with a fistful of bricks." "Get away from me."

They both ignored her, which concerned her a great deal. When she tried to sit up, she was held down easily.

"Shoulder's sprained, ribs bruised. No cracks. Damn lucky. Lost a lot of skin, too. Good solid brain rattle here. What's your name?"

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and if you touch me, I'll kill you."

"Yep, knows who she is. How's the vision, Lieutenant?" "I see you well enough, asshole."

"And she's maintained her young, girlish charm. Follow the light. Just your eyes, don't move your head." "Dallas." Peabody eased down.

"You're really hurt. You've got to let them work on you."

"You called them after I told you not to. I can bust you down to a scooper for this." "I don't think you'd say that if you could see what you look like."

"Think again."

"The light, Lieutenant." The MT took her jaw to keep her head still.

"Follow the light." She cursed him first, then followed the light. "Now let me up."

"I let you up, you're going to fall down again. You've got a concussion, a jammed shoulder, bruised ribs, gashed hip, assorted contusions and lacerations in addition to a face that looks like you rammed it into the back end of a maxibus. We're transporting you to the hospital."

"No, you're not."

Peabody glanced up, let out a relieved breath. "I wouldn't bet on that," she commented and shifted aside as Roarke knelt down.

"What is this?" Annoyance made way for panic. "Peabody, you are cooked."

"Quiet," Roarke ordered with such casual confidence both MTs goggled at him as if he were a god. "How bad is she?" he demanded.

The run-through of injuries was a great deal more coherent and professional, ending with the recommendation that the victim be transported to the nearest hospital for treatment and evaluation.

"I'm not going."

"You are." He feathered his fingers over her battered face, and a sick anger settled in his gut. "She needs something for the pain."

"Roarke-"

"Do you think I can't see it?" he snapped out, then drew himself back and shifted tactics. "Be a brave little soldier, darling, and let the nice MTs do what they must. If you're very good, I'll buy you some ice cream."

"I'll kick your ass for this."

"I look forward to you being able to try."

She struggled, catching the glint of a pressure syringe. "I don't want that shit. It makes me stupid. I took a spill, that's all. Where's that kid? I'm going to stomp all over his little freckled nose."

Roarke leaned over until his face filled her vision. "You let a kid take you down?" He saw immediately that the question, the amused tone of it had done the job. She stopped struggling to glare at him.

"Listen, ace-damn it, damn it!" She bucked once when she felt the faint nip of the syringe.

"Relax and enjoy it," he suggested. He felt the tension spill out of the hand he held. "That's the way."

"Think you're so smart." Body and mind began to float. "But you're more pretty. So pretty. Give me a kiss. Love that mouth. Like to bite it."

He kissed her limp hand instead. "She won't give you any more trouble."

"Bet I flew ten feet. Whee." She rolled her head to the side as she was lifted onto a gurney. "Hey, Peabody! Outta uniform. You got no shoes." "Ditched them on the run. You're going to be okay, Dallas."