Divided in Death (In Death #18)(28)

"No, not really." She rolled some of the stiffness out of her shoulders and yawned. "It all just came to me in one big lump. Where'd I leave off?"

"Being pleasured by three LCs. I assume you'd need three in order to be pleasured in the style to which you've become accustomed in the last couple years."

"Yeah, you'd think that. Okay, after the orgy, I'd start on your toys. First, I'd..." She broke off, narrowed her eyes as she focused out the car window. "Funny, that doesn't look like Central."

"You can work from home, and plan my memorial from here as well. After we both get some sleep."

He got out, came around, and opened her door because she hadn't budged. "I haven't updated my report, or checked in with the commander."

"Which can be done from here, as well." He simply reached in, gathered her up, and slung her over his shoulder.

"You think this is all macho and sexy, right?"

"I think it's expedient."

She decided to play possum when he walked in the house. At least that way she wouldn't have to speak to Summerset. But when she heard the irritating sound of his voice she wished she could screw up her ears as handily as she could her eyes.

"Is she injured?"

"No." Roarke shifted his balance as he started up the stairs. "Just tired."

"You look tired yourself."

"I am. Hold any transmissions that aren't emergencies for the next few hours, will you? And anything that's not priority for an hour beyond that."

"I will."

"I'll need to speak with you about several matters after that. Put up full security, and stay in the house until I do."

"Very well."

Because she'd opened one eye, she saw Summerset's concerned frown before Roarke turned at the top of the stairs.

"He in on this Code Red?"

"He knows a great deal about a great deal. Anyone looking at me would look at him." He booted the door closed behind him, then walked over to dump her on the bed.

"I guess you do look tired." She angled her head as she studied his face. "You hardly ever do."

"Been a long day, all around. Boots off."

"I can get my own boots off." She brushed his hands away. "Deal with your own."

"Ah yes, a pair of my precious shoes, soon doomed to the recycler."

She had to admit, he had a great smirk. "If you don't watch your step, pal."

She stripped off the boots, the jacket, her weapon harness, then crawled into bed.

"You'd sleep better without the clothes."

"You get ideas when I'm naked."

"Darling Eve, I get ideas when you're wearing riot armor. All I'm after is a bit of sleep, I promise you."

She wiggled out of the jeans, the shirt, then gave him a mock scowl when he slid in beside her, drew her against him. "Don't even think about engaging thrusters."

"Quiet." He kissed the top of her head, snuggled her in. "Go to sleep."

Because she was warm, comfortable, and her head was perfectly pillowed on his shoulder, she did. A moment after he felt her float off, he followed.

***

How could things have gone so wrong? How could it have fallen apart when it was all so perfect, so meticulously planned? And executed, he reminded himself as he huddled in the dark.

He'd done everything right. Absolutely everything. And now he was hiding behind locked doors and shaded windows, in fear for his life.

His life.

There'd been a mistake. That had to be it. Something had gone wrong, somewhere. But it made no sense.

He calmed himself with slow sips of whiskey.

He hadn't made a mistake. He'd gone into the brownstone at exactly the right time. His skin sealed, his clothes protected by the thin, clear lab suit, and his hair covered with a zero-contamination skullcap. There would be no trace of him inside the house.

He'd checked the house droid to verify it had been shut down for the night. Then he'd gone upstairs. God, how his heart had pounded. He'd been afraid, almost afraid, he amended, that they'd be able to hear the wild beat of it over the music, over their own moans as they'd f**ked.

He'd had the stunner in his hand, the knife in the sheath on his belt. He'd liked the way the sheath had bumped against his thigh. Anticipation.

He'd moved quickly, just as planned. Just as he'd practiced. One shot between the shoulder blades, and the first half of the target was done. Maybe, just maybe he'd hesitated a fraction of a second then. Maybe, just maybe he'd watched Felicity's eyes, and had caught the shock in them an instant before he'd rammed the stunner between those beautiful br**sts.

But he hadn't hesitated after that. He hadn't.

The knife now, drawing steel out of leather with a sexy little swish.

Then the killing. His first kills.

He had to admit he'd liked it. More, much more than he'd expected. The feel of the knife driving into flesh, and the warm wash of blood.

So primal. So basic.

And so, well, easy, he mused as the whiskey soothed his nerves. So easy once you got started.

He'd set the stage then, and he'd been very, very careful. So careful, so precise, he'd been barely finished when Reva had arrived, when his alarm had beeped quietly to signal she'd begun to disengage the security.