Vendetta in Death
Page 33
Reaching across the table, Mira touched Eve’s hand. “You and Peabody should take some time off. Get some rest, soak up a little spring.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” She stood. “I’m going to write this up, and get the hell out before the brass decides I need to do a media conference.” Reo let out a little laugh. “Run, because that’ll be coming.”
She didn’t run, but she moved fast. By the time she finished her report, signed off, her head pounded. But Roarke came in.
“Done then?”
“Yeah, it’s done.”
“We got a rundown, basically, in EDD. A trial’s unlikely, it seems.”
“Very. She’s not right, Roarke, and that’s that. Mira will take it from here.”
“And you’re all right with that?”
“It’s the way it is,” she began, then shook her head. “I’m all right with it. It’s … it’s justice, the real kind of justice. Are you still playing in EDD?”
“I’m with you, Lieutenant.”
“Great. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
He pulled out a pill case. “Take a blocker for that headache.”
“Let’s get out of here for five minutes. If I still need one, I’ll take it. Deal?”
“Deal.” He took her hand, kissed it. “You’re going to have some soup, some wine, some sleep.”
“I could live with that.” She walked out with him, too tired to object to the crowded elevator. “I’ll need to check on the status off and on. I guess you have lots of toys you want to play with, or maybe you have to make up time in your quest to own the known universe.”
“I can do both. I enjoy multitasking.”
“You’re good at it.” She got in the passenger side, kicked the seat back. “We talked about taking a few days.”
“We did.”
“So I put in for the time.”
“Did you now? Starting when?”
“Starting now.”
He glanced at her as he drove out of the garage. “Is that so?”
“I gave Peabody tomorrow, the next day if she wants it. I was thinking maybe we could go home, throw some stuff in a bag, and take off for Italy. I could bang you on the shuttle—multitasking, because banging would distract me from being up there.”
“Give me a half hour and I can make that happen.”
“I want to wake up somewhere else. Just somewhere else for a couple days and not think about sick, sad women who think killing men is not only necessary but heroic. You’ve probably got all sorts of things to do, but—”
“The villa hotel project in Italy’s important to me, and could use my attention on-site. And I’d like a few days to pay attention to my wife when she’s not working herself into the ground.”
“It’s no use telling you not to worry about me, but I’m going to take this moment to say I appreciate that you do. Even when it irritates the crap out of me, I appreciate it.”
“Your headache’s gone.”
“See? That’s irritating and appreciated—the way you just know that. So … I love you. I love the crap out of you, and I would never want you replaced by a droid-human hybrid.”
“That’s very appreciated as well.”
“I’m not naive,” she murmured. “I know what I’ve got, who I’ve got. Anyway, can we switch the soup for spaghetti and meatballs? Like a jump start to Italy. Wine, spaghetti, banging, sleep. Or banging, then the rest. Or—”
He took her hand again, kissed her hand again as they drove through the gates.
“Let’s just play that by ear.”
“Works for me.”
They had it all, in their own order of preference. And she woke to spring sunshine, Italian style, snuggled into him.
And had one particular item on the list again.