Betrayal in Death

Zusatztext Since the murders all take place at Roarke's hotel, Eve allows him to assist in the investigation, a stroke of creative genius on Robb's part that plays on the strengths that brought them together way back in book one ( Naked in Death ), and that serves to bring out Eve's softer side. So certain is Robb at maintaining an atmospheric setting for this well-paced and expertly rendered series, followers will feel as if they have gone home to the future. Publishers Weekly When you want a book that will excite, thrill and transport you, pick up something by J.D. Robb. The futuristic Eve Dallas and Rourke suspense stories are without peer! RT Book Reviews More Praise for the In Death series Robb is a virtuoso. Seattle Post-Intelligencer It's Law & Order: SVU in the future. Entertainment Weekly J. D. Robb's In Death novels are can't-miss pleasures.#1 New York Times bestselling author Harlan Coben Anchored by terrific characters, sudden twists that spin the whole narrative on a dime, and a thrills-to-chills ration that will raise the neck hairs of even the most jaded reader, the J. D. Robb books are the epitome of great popular fiction. New York Times bestselling author Dennis Lehane Informationen zum Autor J. D. Robb Klappentext In this novel in the #1 New York Times bestselling series, Detective Eve Dallas' investigation of a homicide at her husband's hotel leads to a murderer with a passion for the finer things in life-and in death... At the luxurious Roarke Palace Hotel, a maid walks into suite 4602 for the nightly turndown-and steps into her worst nightmare. A killer leaves her dead, strangled by a thin silver wire. He's Sly Yost, a virtuoso of music and murder. A hit man for the elite. Lieutenant Eve Dallas knows him well. But in this twisted case, knowing the killer doesn't help solve the crime. Because there's someone else involved. Someone with a more personal motive. And Eve must face a terrifying possibility-that the real target may, in fact, be her husband RoarkeChapter One In death there were many layers. Violent death added more. It was her job to sift through those layers and find cause. In cause, to meet justice. However the act of murder was committed, in cold blood or hot, she was sworn to pursue it to its root. And serve the dead. For tonight, Lieutenant Eve Dallas of the New York City Police and Security Department wore no badge. It, along with her service weapon and communicator, was currently tucked in an elegant, palm-sized silk purse she considered embarrassingly frivolous. She wasn't dressed like a cop, but wore a shimmering apricot-hued gown that skimmed down her long, slim body and was sliced in a dramatic V in the back. A slender chain of diamonds hung glittering around her neck. More sparkled at ears she recently, and in a weak moment, had been persuaded to have pierced. Still more were scattered like raindrops through her short chop of brown hair and made her feel faintly ridiculous. However glamorous the silk and diamonds made her appear, her eyes were all cop. Tawny brown and cool, they scanned the sumptuous ballroom, skimmed over faces, bodies, and considered security. Cameras worked into the fancy plasterwork overhead were unobtrusive, powerful, and would provide full scope. Scanners would flag any guests or staff who happened to be carrying concealeds. And among the staff, weaving their way through the chatter to offer drinks, were a half-dozen trained security personnel. The affair was invitation only, and those invitations carried a holographic seal that was scanned at the door. The reason for these precautions, and others, was an estimated five hundred and seventy-eight million dollars worth of jewelry, art, and memorabilia currently on dazzling display througho...

Auteur

J. D. Robb

Texte du rabat

In this novel in the #1 New York Times bestselling series, Detective Eve Dallas' investigation of a homicide at her husband's hotel leads to a murderer with a passion for the finer things in life-and in death...

At the luxurious Roarke Palace Hotel, a maid walks into suite 4602 for the nightly turndown-and steps into her worst nightmare. A killer leaves her dead, strangled by a thin silver wire. He's Sly Yost, a virtuoso of music and murder. A hit man for the elite. Lieutenant Eve Dallas knows him well. But in this twisted case, knowing the killer doesn't help solve the crime. Because there's someone else involved. Someone with a more personal motive. And Eve must face a terrifying possibility-that the real target may, in fact, be her husband Roarke…

Résumé
*In this novel in the #1 *New York Times bestselling series, Detective Eve Dallas' investigation of a homicide at her husband’s hotel leads to a murderer with a passion for the finer things in life—and in death...

**At the luxurious Roarke Palace Hotel, a maid walks into suite 4602 for the nightly turndown—and steps into her worst nightmare. A killer leaves her dead, strangled by a thin silver wire. He’s Sly Yost, a virtuoso of music and murder. A hit man for the elite. Lieutenant Eve Dallas knows him well. But in this twisted case, knowing the killer doesn’t help solve the crime. Because there’s someone else involved. Someone with a more personal motive. And Eve must face a terrifying possibility—that the real target may, in fact, be her husband Roarke…

Échantillon de lecture
Chapter One

In death there were many layers. Violent death added more. It was her job to sift through those layers and find cause. In cause, to meet justice.

However the act of murder was committed, in cold blood or hot, she was sworn to pursue it to its root. And serve the dead.

For tonight, Lieutenant Eve Dallas of the New York City Police and Security Department wore no badge. It, along with her service weapon and communicator, was currently tucked in an elegant, palm-sized silk purse she considered embarrassingly frivolous.

She wasn't dressed like a cop, but wore a shimmering apricot-hued gown that skimmed down her long, slim body and was sliced in a dramatic V in the back. A slender chain of diamonds hung glittering around her neck. More sparkled at ears she recently, and in a weak moment, had been persuaded to have pierced.

Still more were scattered like raindrops through her short chop of brown hair and made her feel faintly ridiculous.

However glamorous the silk and diamonds made her appear, her eyes were all cop. Tawny brown and cool, they scanned the sumptuous ballroom, skimmed over faces, bodies, and considered security.

Cameras worked into the fancy plasterwork overhead were unobtrusive, powerful, and would provide full scope. Scanners would flag any guests or staff who happened to be carrying concealeds. And among the staff, weaving their way through the chatter to offer drinks, were a half-dozen trained security personnel.

The affair was invitation only, and those invitations carried a holographic seal that was scanned at the door.

The reason for these precautions, and others, was an estimated five hundred and seventy-eight million dollars worth of jewelry, art, and memorabilia currently on dazzling display throughout the ballroom.

Each display was craftily arranged for impact and guarded by individual sensor fields that measured motion, heat, light, and weight. If any of the guests or staff had sticky fingers and attempted to remove so much as an earring from its proper place, all exits would close and lock, alarms would sound, and a second team of guards hand-selected from an elite NYPSD task force would be ordered to the scene to join the private security.

To her cynical frame of mind, the entire deal was a foolishly elaborate temptation for too many, in too large an area, in too public a venue. But it was tough to argue with the slick setup.

Then again, slick was just what she expected from Roarke.…