by J. D. Robb
‘You really think after what I’ve been through tonight that you can say anything to touch me?’
‘I don’t believe anything touches you, Lieutenant. You’re without loyalty and that makes you nothing. Less than nothing.’
‘Maybe you’ve got a suggestion of how I could have handled it. Maybe I should have had Roarke fire up one of his JetStars and shoot Mavis off planet to some remote little hideaway. Then she could be on the run for the rest of her life.’
‘At least then she might not have wept herself to sleep.’
The arrow pierced, directly under the heart where it had been aimed. Pain shimmered through fatigue. ‘Get out of my way, you bastard, and keep out of my way.’ She shoved by him, but stopped herself from running. She walked into the master bedroom just as Roarke was replaying her press conference on screen.
‘You did well here,’ he said and rose. ‘Under tremendous pressure.’
‘Yeah, I’m a real pro.’ She walked into the bathroom, then stood staring at herself in the mirror. She saw a woman, pale face, dark, shadowed eyes, grim mouth. And she saw beyond it to helplessness.
‘You’re doing everything you can,’ Roarke said quietly from behind her.
‘You got her good lawyers.’ Ordering water cold, she leaned down, splashed it liberally over her face. ‘They juggled me through Interview. I was tough. Gotta be tough. But they’ve got some moves on them. Next time I’ve got to grill a friend, I’ll be sure to sign them up.’
He watched her bury her face in a towel. ‘When’s the last time you’ve eaten?’
She merely shook her head. The question had no relevance. ‘The reporters were out for blood. Someone like me’s very juicy game. Couple of high-profile cases, I come out on top. Some of them would just love to see me take it between the eyes. Think of the ratings.’
‘Mavis doesn’t blame you, Eve.’
‘I blame me,’ she exploded, heaving the towel aside. ‘I blame me, goddamn it. I told her to trust me, I told her I’d take care of things. How did I take care of it, Roarke? I arrested her, I booked her. Prints, mug shots, voice ident, all of it on file now. I put her through a horrible two-hour interview. I locked her in a cell until the lawyers you hired for her got her out on bail you posted. I hate myself.’
She broke, simply broke. Covering her face with her hands, she began to sob.
‘It’s about time you let go.’ Briskly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up to the bed. ‘You’ll feel better for it.’ He kept her cradled in his arms, stroked her hair. Whenever she cried, he thought, it was a storm, a passionate tumult. Rarely were there a few easy, quiet tears for Eve. Rarely was anything easy for Eve.
‘This isn’t helping,’ she managed.
‘Yes, it is. You’ll purge some of that misplaced guilt and some of the grief you’re entitled to. You’ll think more clearly tomorrow.’
She was down to shuddering breaths and a raging headache. ‘I have to work tonight. I’m going to run some names and scenarios for probability.’
No, he thought quite calmly, she won’t. ‘Take a minute. Get something to eat.’ Before she could protest, he was shifting her aside and moving to the AutoChef. ‘Even your admirable system needs fuel. And there’s a story I want to tell you.’
‘I can’t waste time.’
‘It won’t be wasted.’
Fifteen minutes, she thought, as the scent of something glorious wafted toward her. ‘Let’s make it a quick meal and a short story, okay?’ She rubbed at her eyes, not sure if she was ashamed or relieved to have let the cork pop and spew out the tears. ‘Sorry I blubbered on you.’
‘I’m always available for blubbering.’ He came toward her with a steaming omelette and a cup. He sat down, stared into her swollen, exhausted eyes. ‘I adore you.’
She flushed. It seemed he was the only one who could bring embarrassed color to her cheeks. ‘You’re trying to distract me.’ She took the plate and a fork. ‘That kind of stuff always does, and I can never get my tongue around what I should say back.’ She sampled the eggs. ‘Maybe something like you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘That’ll do.’
She lifted the cup, started to sip, then scowled. ‘This isn’t coffee.’
‘It’s tea, for a change. A soothing blend. I imagine you’re overloaded on caffeine.’
‘Maybe.’ Because the eggs were fabulous and she didn’t have the energy to argue, she took a sip. ‘It’s nice. Okay, what’s the story?’
‘You’ve wondered why I keep Summerset, even when he’s . . . less than solicitous to you.’
She snorted. ‘You mean even though he hates my fucking guts. Your business.’
‘Our business,’ he corrected.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to hear about him right now.’
‘It’s actually more about me, and an incident that you might find correlates with what you’re feeling right now.’ He watched her drink again, calculated he had just enough time to tell the tale. ‘When I was very young, and still in Dublin on the street, I hooked up with a man and his daughter. The little girl was, well, an angel, gold and rose with the sweetest smile on either side of heaven. They ran confidence games, superbly. Short cons for the most part, bilking foolish marks and making a reasonable living. At that time, I was doing somewhat the same myself, but I liked variety, and enjoyed picking pockets and organizing floating games. My father was still alive when I met Summerset - though he didn’t go by that name then - and his daughter, Marlena.’
‘So, he was a con,’ she said between bites. ‘I knew there was something shifty about him.’
‘He was quite brilliant. I learned a lot from him, and I like to think he from me. In any case, after one particularly enthusiastic beating from my dear old da, he happened to find me unconscious in an alley. He took me in. He took care of me. There was no money for a doctor, and I didn’t have a medical card. What I did have was a few broken ribs, a concussion, and a fractured shoulder.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The image brought back others, ones that dried up the spit in her mouth. ‘Life sucks.’
‘It did. Summerset was a man of many talents. He had some medical training. He often used an MT disguise in his work. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he saved my life. I was young and strong and used to it, but he certainly kept me from suffering needlessly.’
‘You owe him.’ Eve set the empty plate aside. ‘I understand. It’s all right.’
‘No, that’s not it. I owed him. I paid him back. There were times he owed me. After my father met his unmourned end, we became partners. Again, I wouldn’t say he raised me, I took care of myself, but he gave me what might be considered a family. I loved Marlena.’
‘The daughter.’ She had to shake her head to clear it. ‘I’d forgotten. Hard to picture that dried up old fart as a father. Where is she?’
‘She’s dead. She was fourteen. I was sixteen. We’d been together, more or less, for about six years. One of my gambling projects was turning a tidy profit, and it came to the attention and the disapproval of a small, particularly violent syndicate. They felt I was cutting into their territory. I felt I was carving out my own. They threatened. I was arrogant enough to ignore them. Once or twice they tried to get their hands on me, to teach me respect, I imagine. But I was difficult to catch. And I was gaining power, even prestige. I was certainly making money. Enough that between us we were able to buy a small, very decent flat. And somewhere along the way, Marlena fell in love with me.’
He paused, looking down at his own hands, remembering, regretting. ‘I cared for her a great deal, but not as a lover. She was beautiful, and unbelievably innocent, despite the life we led. I didn’t think of her romantically, but as a man - because I was a man already - might think of a perfect piece of art: romantically. Never sexually. She had different ideas, and one night she came into my room and rather sweetly, and terrifyingly, offered herself to me. I was appalled, furious, and scared to the bones. Because I was a
man, and therefore, tempted.’
His lifted his gaze to Eve’s again, and there was storm in them. ‘I was cruel to her, Eve, and sent her away shattered. She was a child, and I devastated her. I’ve never forgotten the look on her face. She trusted me, believed in me, and I, by doing what was right, betrayed her.’
‘The way I betrayed Mavis.’
‘The way you’re thinking you did. But there’s more. She left the house that night. Summerset and I didn’t know she was gone until the next day, the next morning when the men who wanted me sent word that they had her. They sent back the clothes she’d been wearing, and there was blood on them. For the first time in my life, and the last, I saw Summerset unable to function. I would have given them anything they demanded, done anything. I would have traded myself for her without hesitation. Just as you, if you could, would trade places with Mavis now.’
‘Yes.’ Eve set the empty cup aside woozily. ‘I’d do anything.’
‘Sometimes anything comes too late. I contacted them, told them we would negotiate, begged them not to hurt her. But they had already hurt her. They had raped her and tortured her, this delightful fourteen-year-old girl who had found so much joy in life, and who was just beginning to feel what women feel. Within hours of that first contact, her body was dumped on my doorstep. They had used her as no more than a means to an end, to make a point to a competitor, an upstart. She wasn’t even human to them, and there was nothing I could do to go back and change what had happened.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She reached out and took his hands. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry, but it wasn’t your fault.’
‘No, it wasn’t. It took me years to believe that, to understand and accept that. Summerset never blamed me, Eve. He could have. She was his life, and she had suffered and died because of me. But he never once blamed me.’
She sighed, closed her eyes. She knew what he was telling her, by repeating a tale that had to be a nightmare for him to relive. Neither was she to blame. ‘You couldn’t stop what happened. You could only control what happened after, the way I can only do everything I can to find the answers.’ Wearily, she opened her eyes again. ‘What did happen after, Roarke?’
‘I hunted down the men who had done it, and I killed them, in as slow and as painful a method as I could devise.’ He smiled. ‘We each have our own way of finding solutions and justice, Eve.’
‘Vigilantism isn’t justice.’
‘Not for you. But you’ll find the solution and justice for Mavis. No one doubts it.’
‘I can’t let her stand trial.’ Her head lolled; she snapped it back. ‘I have to find . . . I need to go . . .’ She couldn’t even lift her weighted arm to her head. ‘Damn it, Roarke, damn it, that was a tranq.’
‘Go to sleep,’ he murmured and gently unhooked her weapon harness and set it aside. ‘Lie back.’
‘Inducing chemicals on unknowing people is a violation of . . .’ She slipped deeper, barely felt him unbutton her shirt.
‘Arrest me in the morning,’ he suggested. He undressed her, then himself, before slipping into bed beside her. ‘Just sleep now.’
She slept, but even there, dreams chased her.
Chapter Eight
She did not wake up cheerful. She did wake alone, which was probably a wise move on Roarke’s part, but she didn’t surface with a smile. There were no aftereffects from the tranq, which made him a very lucky man. She woke alert, refreshed, and pissed.
The electronic memo beeping its red light on the nightstand didn’t improve the mood. Nor did Roarke’s smooth voice when she engaged it.
‘Good morning, Lieutenant. Hope you slept well. If you’re up before eight, you’ll find me in the breakfast nook. I didn’t want to disturb you by ordering up. You looked so peaceful.’
‘Not for long,’ she said between gritted teeth. She managed to shower, dress, and strap on her weapon in ten minutes flat.
The breakfast nook, as he charmingly called it, was a huge, sunny atrium off the kitchen. Not only was Roarke there, but so was Mavis. Both of them beamed blindingly as Eve strode in.
‘We’re going to get a couple things straight here, Roarke.’
‘Your color’s back.’ Pleased with himself, he rose and nipped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. ‘That gray cast to your skin didn’t suit you.’ Then he grunted as her fist jammed into his stomach. He cleared his throat manfully. ‘Your energy level’s obviously up, too. Want coffee?’
‘I want you to know that if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll . . .’ She trailed off, narrowed her eyes at Mavis. ‘What are you grinning at?’
‘It’s fun to watch. You two are so tipped over each other.’
‘So tipped he’s going to end up on his back checking out the ceiling if he doesn’t watch out.’ But she continued to study Mavis, baffled. ‘You look . . . fine,’ she decided.
‘I am. I had a good cry, a big bag of Swiss chocolates, and then I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I’ve got the number-one cop in the city working on my side, the best team of lawyers a billionaire can buy, and a guy who loves me. See, I figured out that when this is all over, and it’s going to work out, I’ll be able to look back on it as kind of an adventure. And with all the media attention, my career’s going to soar.’
Reaching up, she took Eve’s hand and tugged her down on the padded bench. ‘I’m not scared anymore.’
Not willing to take the words to heart, Eve looked hard and long into Mavis’s eyes. ‘You’re really not. You’re really okay. I can see it.’
‘I’m fine now. I thought about it, and thought about it. When it all shakes down, it’s pretty simple. I didn’t kill her. You’ll find out who did, and when you do, it’ll all be over. Until then, I get to live in this incredible house, eat incredible food.’ She forked up a last bite of a paper-thin crepe. ‘And have my name and face splashed all over the media.’
‘That’s one way of looking at it.’ Uneasy, Eve rose to program coffee for herself. ‘Mavis, I don’t want you to worry or be upset, but this isn’t going to be a glide through the park.’
‘I’m not stupid, Dallas.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘You’re thinking I’m not aware of the worst that could happen. I am, but I just don’t believe the worst is going to happen. From now on, I’m thinking positive, and I’m giving you that favor you asked me to give you yesterday.’
‘Okay. We’ve got a lot of work to do. I want you to concentrate, try to remember details. Any detail, no matter how small or insignificant - What’s this?’ she demanded as Roarke set a bowl in front of her.
‘Your breakfast.’
‘It’s oatmeal.’
‘Exactly.’
She frowned at it. ‘Why can’t I have one of those crepes?’
‘You can, after you eat your oatmeal.’
Eyes hot, she shoveled in a mouthful. ‘We’re really going to talk.’
‘You guys are great together. I’m really glad I’ve had this chance to see it up close and personal. Not that I didn’t think it was great all along, but mostly I was just jazzed that Dallas had landed a rich one.’ Mavis beamed at Roarke.
‘That’s what friends are for.’
‘Yeah, but it’s so mag the way you keep her in line. Nobody ever could before.’
‘Shut up, Mavis. You think, and think hard, but you don’t tell me anything until you’ve cleared it with your lawyers.’
‘They already advised me of that. I figure it’s going to work just like it does when I’m trying to remember a name or where I put something. You stop thinking about it, start doing other stuff, then zip, it pops into your head. So, I’m doing other stuff, and the big one is the wedding. Leonardo said you need to do your first fitting very soon.’
‘Leonardo?’ Eve all but lunged out of the chair. ‘You’ve been talking to Leonardo?’
‘The lawyers cleared it. They think it’s a good thing for us to resume our relationship. It adds a sympathy and romance factor in
the public awareness.’ Mavis leaned an elbow on the table and began to toy with the trio of earrings she’d hung in her left lobe. ‘You know, they only ditched the truth detection test and hypnosis because they can’t be sure what I’ll remember. They mostly believe me, but they can’t take chances. But they said seeing Leonardo is cool. So we need to set up that fitting.’
‘I don’t have time to think about fittings. Christ, Jesus, Mavis, you think I’m going to fuss with designs and flowers now? I’m not getting married until this is cleared up. Roarke understands that.’
Roarke took out a cigarette, studied it. ‘No, he doesn’t.’
‘Now, listen—’
‘No, you listen.’ Mavis stood up, her bright blue hair glinting in the sunlight. ‘I’m not letting this mess screw up something this important to me. Pandora did her best to fuck with my life and Leonardo’s. And she did worse by dying. She is not going to fuck with this. These plans are not on hold, Dallas, and you just better make time in your schedule for the fitting.’
She couldn’t argue, not with the sheen of tears in Mavis’s eyes. ‘Okay, fine. Great. I’ll deal with the stupid dress.’
‘It’s not a stupid dress. It’s going to be a sensational dress.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘Better.’ She sniffed, sat. ‘When can I tell him we’ll get together for it?’
‘Ah . . . listen. It’s better for your case, and your fancy lawyers would back me up, if you and I aren’t seen running around together. Primary investigator and defendant. It doesn’t look good.’
‘You mean I can’t—’ Mavis shut her mouth, regrouped. ‘All right then, we won’t go running around together. Leonardo can work here. Roarke won’t mind, will you?’
‘On the contrary.’ He took a satisfied drag on his cigarette. ‘I think it’s a perfect solution.’
‘One big happy family,’ Eve mumbled. ‘The primary, the defendant, and the tenant of the murder scene, who also happens to be the victim’s former lover and the defendant’s current. Are you all insane?’