Celebrity in Death (In Death #34)(60)

“Consider this one a transition. The other’s long and for colder weather. You can wear this now. Try it on.”

She saw the label. “Leonardo did it, so it’s going to fit—ha ha—like it was made for me. Look at the buttons!”

“We thought you’d like that.”

Yes, he thought, it fit her perfectly, suited her perfectly—the color, the cut, the subtle embellishments. When she turned toward him, the hem swirled around her thighs.

“It feels great, too. No pull in the shoulders because of my weapon harness.” She slid a hand inside, drew her weapon smoothly, and smoothly replaced it. “It doesn’t get in the way.”

“There’s a knife sheath worked into the lining—right side as you prefer the cross-draw, and use your right hand for your main weapon.”

“No shit.” She opened the jacket, checked. Mimed by crossing her arms, and drawing both gun and imaginary knife simultaneously. “Handy. Pretty damn handy. What’s with this lining? It feels sort of dense. It’s not heavy, but it doesn’t feel like coat lining.”

“Something we’ve been working on in R and D for a while.” He crossed to her, ran his fingers over the lining himself. “It’s body armor.”

“Get out.” Her forehead creased as she examined it more closely. “It’s too thin and light. Plus it moves.”

“Trust me, it’s been thoroughly tested. Leonardo was able to take the material and fashion it into the coat. It will block a stun on full, though you’ll feel the impact. It’ll protect from a blaster, though the leather would suffer. And it will block a blade—though again, pity about the leather.”

“Seriously?” She pulled her weapon again, offered it. “Try it.”

He had to laugh even as he thought: Typical. Just typical. “I will not.”

“Not very confident in your research and development.”

“I’m not firing a stunner at my wife in our bedroom.”

“We can go downstairs to the range.”

“Eve.” With a shake of his head, he guided her hand back until she holstered the weapon. “Trust me. It’s been tested. You have the prototype in a very flattering and fashionable form. We’ll be moving into production shortly, and negotiating with the NYPSD to be the first police force so equipped—not as fashionably, of course.”

“It’s like nothing else. And it really moves.” She tested by going into a crouch, a spin, trying a side kick. “Doesn’t hamper range of motion or—” It struck her then.

“You said you’ve been working on it awhile.”

“It takes time to develop something new, and one that fits specific requirements.”

“How long a while?”

He smiled a little. “Oh, I’d say about two and a half years. Since I fell for a cop.”

“For me.”

“For me as well. I want to keep you.” When she reached up, laid a hand on his cheek, he took her wrist, turned her palm to his lips. “We were close, but I pushed a bit in the last few weeks.”

“Since Dallas.”

“He hurt you. I realize you wouldn’t have been wearing body armor when McQueen attacked you in our hotel room, but all the same. He hurt you and I wasn’t there.”

“You were there when I needed you. I beat him, again, but I nearly lost myself.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“All I know is you were there when I needed you. I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through any of it without you. I don’t ever want to go back there.” She closed her eyes briefly. “But if I have to, I know you’ll go with me.”

“You’ll never go back alone, Eve.”

“You’ve been careful with me since we got back. Nothing too obvious, but you’ve been careful. You don’t need to be.”

“I could say the same.”

“I guess we both went through the wringer, so we’ve been trying not to push the wrong buttons. One of us will forget, or get pissed, and push one. And that’s all right. We’re all right.”

“You haven’t had nightmares since. I thought you would, worried that … Eve,” he said, flatly, when she stepped back.

“Not nightmares. Not like that. Just …” She shrugged, then took off the coat, carefully laid it on the bed. “Dreams. Just dreams. Sometimes it’s just her—Stella—sometimes with McQueen or with my father. Sometimes all of them. But I can pull out of them before they get bad. Really bad.”

“Why haven’t you told me?”

“Maybe because we’re being careful with each other. I don’t know, Roarke. They’re dreams. I know they’re dreams, even when I’m having them. They’re nothing like on the level of what I had in Dallas. And I can stop them, before they get really bad, I can stop them. I need to.”

“You don’t need to do this alone.”

“I’m not.” She touched his face again. “You’re right there. If I need you, you’re right there.”

“Have you talked to Mira?”

“Not yet, not really. I will,” she promised. “I know I have to. I’m not ready, just not ready. I feel … good. Strong, normal. I know I need to talk to her, go through the process, and that during the process I won’t feel good, strong, I won’t feel normal. I’m not ready for that yet.”