Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(84)

“No, no. Don’t let go.”

“Look here, look at me now.” He tipped her head up. “A dream, all right? You understand me?”

“It felt real. I could feel . . .”

His heart squeezed when she gripped a hand on her own arm.

“Were you back in Dallas?”

“No. Yes. Not exactly.”

“You need to get warm, then you’ll tell me. Here now.” He pulled the throw over, wrapped it around her.

“You’re cold, too. And wet. I’m sorry.” She gathered the cat up, stroked him. “I’m sorry.”

“You hold on to him—you could both use it. I’ll get you a soother.”

“I don’t want a soother.”

“We’ll split one.”

She pressed her face to Galahad’s fur. “You need to get warm.”

“I’ll just get a towel, then we’ll split that soother and you’ll tell me.”

With her face still buried, she nodded.

He ordered the fire on as he walked to the bathroom, ordered the jets he’d left running to shut down. Then he dropped his forehead to the glass tiles and took his first true breath since he’d heard her scream.

Screaming, he thought, as if someone hacked at her with an axe. And so deep in that nightmare she’d been mired, he hadn’t been able to pull her out at first. She’d just screamed. Even when her eyes had flashed open, wide and blank, she’d screamed.

He dragged a hand through his dripping hair, grabbed a towel to drape over his hips and went back to her.

She hadn’t moved an inch.

He programmed the soother to split, brought the glasses over to sit on the bed with her again.

“Drink some, and tell me.”

She didn’t argue.

“I think I knew it was a dream at first. At first. It was a crime scene. The bodies—after the explosion—but all of them. Just all those pieces of people, and the white board with their names. All their names. I know their names.”

He took her hand, kissed it. “Yes.”

“Then I saw the two of them—black, white masks, talking—whispering. But I didn’t have my weapons. I didn’t have them, so I went at them to fight, to take them down, but . . . You couldn’t see the wall. I could see through it, and they were on the other side. I couldn’t get through the wall. They saw me, and I could hear them, and I knew . . .

“They took off the masks, but I already knew. Richard Troy and Patrick Roarke.”

Sorrow clouded his eyes as he stroked a hand on her cheek. “We’ll never altogether be done with them, will we?”

She shook her head, told him the rest.

“The room, the other room, so many people. Every time I looked, more people. But not you. I thought you were in the room with the two of them. A prisoner. And I would’ve gotten you out. I would’ve found a way.”

“Of course you would.” He kissed away the tears on her face. It broke his heart when she wept.

“But it wasn’t you.” She had to fight to breathe again, to hold back the horror. “When I could see through the shadows, it wasn’t you. It was me. And then I knew. I knew what they’d done. Then I saw you, in the room with everyone, everyone who matters. I saw you, and the vest.”

Because it threatened to swamp her again, she drank the last of the soother. “I screamed for you—you couldn’t hear me. I beat on the wall, and tried to break through. It started to crack, but you were reaching for the button. I had to get in, had to get in. If I couldn’t stop you . . . I couldn’t stand being without you. I can take anything, but I couldn’t take that. You have to swear to me.”

“A ghrá, it didn’t happen. And it won’t. Didn’t we already say we’d find another way?”

She gripped his hand until her knuckles went white. “You have to swear to me. You have to believe I’d find a way to get out, and swear to me you’d never push the button. Swear it.”

“And if it had been me, a prisoner?”

“You’d find a way.”

He leaned over, touched his lips to hers. “And there you have it, so I’ll say again what we said before. We’d find a way. I’ll swear to you, and you’ll swear to me. There’s trust between us, isn’t there? We’d find a way.”

“Yes.” She let out a breath. “Yes. I swear it.”

“And so do I. Those fucking bastards, and any like them? They won’t win. We won’t let them.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, and let it go.

“You were already up.”

“A holo conference. I’ll reschedule, and we’ll get a bit more sleep.”

Meaning, she knew, he’d put his work aside, stay with her in hopes she’d get more sleep.

“No, I’m getting up. I’ll feel better if I get going, get something done. You need to put on one of your emperor suits.” She ran a hand down his bare chest, felt his heartbeat. “I’m going to get a workout in, sweat the rest out of me.”

“All right then. I’ll be an hour or so,” he added as he moved to his closet.

She sat as she was, wrapped in the throw, holding the cat while he selected a suit. “You’re still a little pissed off, but now you’re worried on top of it. It’s hard to be both.”