Leverage in Death (In Death, #47)

by J.D. Robb

“See, what happened is we worked really, really late because, murders and going to the Oscars. Oh, I want Nadine to win so bad! I can’t wait to see— Ouch!” “Keep it up and you’ll need body paint to cover the bruises.” “I’m just saying it’s like we only got two hours down, and then I couldn’t turn my brain off because, murders and the Academy freaking Awards! Okay, ouch. But I’m saying everything was just fuzzy this morning, and I needed to give you one hundred percent. A hundred absolute percent. So, booster. But then it didn’t feel like it worked. All fuzzy. So I thought about the espresso, and maybe it did work some because it’s crazy stupid to chase the boost with espresso. It’s the real. McNab and I splurged. I love McNab! Ian McNab is my BFF—boyfriend forever! And we— Ow, ow, ow.” “Stop talking. Stop. I get what happened. I get why it happened, which is why I’m not searching for a blunt instrument to beat you bloody with before I dump your broken body out on the street to be run over by a maxibus.” “Maybe I should take some Sober-Up. It’s not like being drunk, but maybe—” “No. Nothing else goes in. Except water.” Eve programmed just that from the in-dash. “Drink.” “I already sort of have to pee.” “Good, the sooner you flush it out, the better.” “Where are we going? Can I pee where we’re going?” “Yes. Drink. Mikhail Kinski, resident of Banks’s building. Age forty-six, former army, rank captain. Divorced. One hit on domestic violence. Works security for Dobb-Pinkerton F...