Connections in Death (In Death #48)(12)

“Suicide Central,” Eve murmured.

“Sadly enough. Rochelle saw how the boy related to Crack, and asked if he’d consider training as a mentor for disadvantaged and/or troubled youths.”

“Huh. He’d be good at it.”

“So she thought. He thought not, then later reconsidered, and they met to talk about it. They clicked on several levels. She was very open about her middle brother, and believes that while Crack isn’t his mentor, he’s been another steadying influence. So?”

“Send the contract. She’s probably pacing the floor waiting for it. Send it, and let’s go eat spaghetti and drink more wine.”

He kissed the back of her neck, sent the contract. “As it happens, pasta’s just what I’d planned for tonight. Summerset made fresh.”

“Meatballs?”

“The pasta—the actual noodles.”

“You can do that? Why do that?”

“I can’t tell you, but it apparently pleases him. It’s capellini—spicy.”

“Does it have meatballs?”

“We’ll find out.”

*

While Eve discovered zucchini—again?—instead of meatballs, Rochelle let out a wild scream in the tiny corner of her bedroom she’d used for office space since Lyle moved in.

She followed it with a whoop, then a dance.

She whirled around when Lyle rushed in.

“What the hell, Ro?”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were home.”

“Just walked in. I thought you were fighting off a rapist or some shit.”

“No. Nothing.” She laughed, waved a hand. “You’ve got the night off. I forgot.”

“First night off in eight straight.” Frowning at her, he leaned on her doorjamb.

He’d put back on the weight he’d lost to illegals and prison, and had a fit, healthy look that warmed her heart. And though she liked him clean shaven—he was handsome!—she didn’t mind the strip of scruff around his jawline. He wore his hair in short dreads.

Best of all, his eyes, nearly the same shade as hers, remained clear. A little tired, maybe, but clear.

“I’ll fix you something to eat.”

He pointed at her. “You’re dressed fancy again.”

“Not really fancy.” She did have on her second-best dress—the blue one with the banded cuffs, but she didn’t think it rated fancy. “I’m taking Wilson to dinner, but I’ve got time to fix you something.”

“I’m a cook, remember?”

Yes, he was, she thought—and it thrilled her.

“A cook with a night off. Missed having you around,” she added and walked over to hug him. There’d been a time he wouldn’t have returned the hug, but he did now, even lifted her a scant inch off the floor along with it.

“Why’d you scream?”

“I was just—Oh, I can’t hold it in. Why should I? It’s . . .”

He took a hard grip when her eyes filled. “You tell me what’s wrong, Ro. Right now.”

“Not wrong. Perfect. Look at my face! I’m just so damn happy. It’s why I screamed, why I forgot about your night off. Why I can barely remember my name except it’s right there, on the contract.”

He glanced toward her mini-screen. “What contract?”

“For my new job. For my dream job. Hell, here I go again.”

She screamed, grabbed him and danced.

“You’ve got a job. You love your job. What dream job?”

“As head therapist at An Didean. The shelter and school.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard something about that place. Funny name. Wait. That’s a Roarke deal, right? You’re going to work for Roarke and the cop skirt.”

Grinning like a fool, Rochelle poked him in the chest. “She’d bust you for the skirt, but yes. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Why would I? Man, Roarke turns shit into gold all the damn time. It must be a good place or you wouldn’t go into it.”

“It will be, a really good place. It’s scheduled to open in May. I have so much work to do to get ready!”

“Wait, back up. You said head. Like chief? Like numero uno?”

“With a staff of eight counselors, therapists and an administrative assistant.” She put a hand to her ear as if listening. “Do you hear that word, Lyle? Staff!”

His whole face lit up, for her. “Jesus, Ro. This is a big fucking deal. Like monster fucking big. MFBFD.”

“I can hardly get my breath. It’s why I asked Wilson out to dinner. I wanted to tell him. You know what? I’ll tell him to come over here, we’ll order in and celebrate like maniacs.”

“Oh hell no, you take your fancy ass out with your man, have a big night. I was figuring on cleaning up, heading to a meeting then over to see Gram and the gang. I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks, and she’ll skin my ass if it’s much longer. I’ll be late for dinner, but she’s always got leftovers. Then I thought I’d just bunk there or at Martin’s tonight.”

Or he did now, to give his sister and her man the place to themselves.

“Can I tell ’em?”

“Yes. Absolutely yes. And that I’ll get in touch tomorrow. Oh, Lyle, you should see the place. I got a tour today—from the boss! It’s just amazing. The thought and care that’s going into it. We’re going to change lives. We’re going to save lives.”