by J. D. Robb
“I didn’t think he’d actually confess.”
“He couldn’t help himself. All those names, the data, the evidence, came at him too fast. It scared him, and he can’t be scared. And I made him look stupid and weak, another unacceptable condition. Murder makes him feel powerful. He needed to feel powerful.”
“I’d say he’s about to suffer a major power outage.”
“Oh yeah. You know what?” They walked to her office where she retrieved her coat. “We closed two murders, and one attempted, and are well on the way to closing seven other murder cases. And nobody tried to punch me in the face, stab me, stun me, or blow me up. I think it’s a record.”
“It looked dicey for a minute in there.”
She made a pfft sound as they headed out. “He wouldn’t have gotten a shot in. Plus I avoided getting puke or blood on my boots for an entire day.”
“Obviously we need to celebrate.” Roarke trailed a hand down her back as they walked. “Half-drunk sex?”
“Works for me.”
On the way toward home and half-drunk sex, Eve contacted Nadine to give her the rest of the story.
It seemed only fair.
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