Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(34)

“They wouldn’t have taken you and dolled you all up. You weren’t pretty.”

Eve glanced over as Mina pointed, saw the pale, skinny child she’d been. The dirty hair, the hopeless eyes.

“Guess not.”

“He’d’ve sold you on the cheap. All broken and used up.”

“He’s the one who broke me and used me up. They didn’t break you, did they? Not until the end.”

“I had brains, and something to get back to. You didn’t save me.”

It hurt, even in the dream, it hurt. “You’ve got me there.”

“She’s not going to save me, either.” Dorian stood beside Mina now, her hair groomed into perfect curls. She wore the same school uniform.

That was wrong, Eve thought. She hadn’t gone to private school.

“She doesn’t even know if I’m dead or alive. What does she care?”

“I’m here because I care.”

“Bullshit!” Rage, Eve recognized it as it slapped out at her. “You’re here because they pay you. Like they paid the cops to drag me back to that shithole so my mother could collect her stipend.”

“I put your mother in jail.”

“A lot of good that does me now. You can just fuck off. I can take care of myself.”

Were teenage girls really that bitchy? Eve wondered. Or did she just see them that way?

“You want to be pissed at me? Fine, but I’m what you’ve got. You think I don’t understand you? She does. And she’s me.”

She looked at the child she’d been, cradling her broken arm while blood dripped from her hands.

“It’s going to get better,” Eve told her. “You’ll be okay.”

“Bullshit!” Dorian shrieked it this time. “You’re lying to her. How’s it better to get tossed to strangers who don’t give a shit? If they’d known what she did, they’d have tossed her in a hole. Killer! Killer! Killer! At least I never killed anybody. I didn’t do that!”

Mina stood, the blood turning her shirt red around the spear through her chest.

“This really sucks, and you didn’t stop it. You didn’t stop any of it. So…”

“Just fuck off,” the girls said together.

She woke with sunlight trickling into the bedroom and a fully dressed Roarke sitting behind her.

“There now, just a dream.”

“I know, I know. I’m okay. Damn it.” She sat up, laid her head on his shoulder when he put his arms around her. “It wasn’t that bad. Well, bad, but not … I don’t know.”

She eased back, pressed a hand to her head.

“Headache. Not a question, I can see it.”

“It’ll be all right.”

He rose, went to the AC for coffee. And bringing it to her, took out a blocker. “Take it, or no coffee.”

“That’s just mean.” She took it, and the coffee.

“You got a full night’s sleep before it hit you,” he commented, and had her checking the time.

“Shit! I’ve got to get moving.”

He simply put a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. “You’ll take a moment to tell me about it.”

“I need to wake up, grab a shower. I’ll tell you.”

“All right then, with breakfast.”

“Can it be waffles?”

He pressed curved lips to her forehead. “It can. Get your shower.”

Not as bad as he’d feared, he thought when he walked to the AutoChef to program breakfast. He’d checked on her during his early-morning conference calls, and she’d slept peacefully.

So it had hit sometime after he’d left his office and come back to the bedroom to find her muttering in her sleep, and the cat butting his head against her shoulder.

But not that bad. She hadn’t been shaking, and the request for waffles meant she didn’t feel ill.

He dealt with breakfast, and telling himself—perhaps with partial honesty—he’d save her time, laid a work outfit on the bed for her.

When she came out wearing a short, cream-colored robe, he sat with the cat curled in his lap while the morning stock data scrolled on the wall screen.

“This thing’s silk, right?”

“It is, yes.”

“Is it sexy?”

He gave her a studied look and sipped his coffee. “What’s in it is.”

“Come on. Is it like fuckwear?”

With a laugh, he sat back. “A loaded question if I ever heard one, but we’ll treat it seriously. In my view it’s subtly sexy.”

“Kind of classy, right?”

“As I see it, yes. It suits you.”

“Nobody’s going to accuse me of being classy.”

“You’re in a class by yourself.”

After a quick snort, she grabbed her PPC. “Look at this underwear.”

“What a fascinating start to the day.” He took the PPC, nodded at the image. “Yes, I remember this from your board.”

And if he hadn’t, he thought, the bloodstains on the bra would serve as a clue.

“Set that aside a minute. Is it fuckwear?”

“Ah, Christ.”

“I know, I know, but put that aside. Just judge the pieces on their own right now.”