Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(56)

He leaned forward, a quick move that caught her unguarded, and gripped her chin. “Damn it. I won’t back away from what you are or what you do. You’ll take me, Eve, every bit as fully as I take you.”

She sat very still, absorbing his words, searching his eyes. She could never resist the things she found in his eyes. “Last winter,” she began slowly, “you pushed yourself into my life. I didn’t ask for you. I didn’t want you.,”

His brow cocked, an irritated challenge. “Thank God you didn’t give a damn what I asked for or what I thought I wanted,” she murmured and watched the dare slide into a smile.

“I didn’t ask for you either. Aghra.”

My love. She knew what it meant, in the tongue of his birth, and couldn’t stop her heart from opening to it. To him. “Since then I’ve rarely had a case that hasn’t tangled you into it. I didn’t want it to be that way. I’ve used you when it was expedient. That bothers me.”

“It pleases me.”

“I know it.” She sighed and, lifting a hand, curled her fingers briefly around his wrist. His pulse beat there, strong and steady. “You get too close to pieces of me I don’t like to look at, then I don’t have any choice but to look at them.”

“You look at them with or without me, Eve. But maybe with me they won’t hurt you so much. I look back,” he said and surprised her enough to have her eyes flicking up to his, holding there. “And it’s easier, those moments are easier to stand since you. You can’t ask me, can’t expect me not to stand with you when your moments close in.”

She stood now, taking her wine and moving away from him. He was right, she thought. What she too often saw as dependence should have been accepted as unity.

And she could tell him.

“I know what they felt. I know what went through them — the fear, the pain, the humiliation. Each one of them when they were helpless and naked and he was raping them. I know what their bodies felt, what their minds felt. I don’t want to remember what it’s like to be torn into that way. Ripped, invaded. But I do. Then you touch me.”

She turned back, realizing she’d never really given him this. “Then you touch me, Roarke, and I don’t. I don’t feel that. I don’t remember that. It’s that simple. It’s just… you.”

“I love you,” he murmured. “Outrageously.”

“So you’re here when you should be off planet seeing to your business.” She shook her head before he could speak, could slide some smooth excuse by her when she knew better. “You were there tonight, knowing I’d be pissed off, because you thought there might be a chance I’d need you. You’re here right now ready to argue with me just to take my mind off what’s ripping at it. I know you, damn it. I’m a cop. I’m good at knowing people.”

He only smiled. “Busted. So what?”

“So… thanks. But I’ve been on the job eleven years now and I can handle myself. On the other hand…” She studied her wine, then took a long swallow. “It sure gave me a nice feeling to watch you beat the puss out of that creep who jumped Peabody. I had to sit there in the f**king van. Couldn’t risk getting out to smear him onto the pavement myself and blow cover. So it felt pretty good to watch you do it for me.”

“Oh, it was absolutely my pleasure. Is she all right?”

“She will be. He shook her — that’s the human part. She’ll take a hot shower, a tranq if she’s smart, and sleep it off. The cop part will maintain. She’s a good cop.”

“She’s a better one because of you.”

“No, don’t put that on me. She’s what she is.” Uncomfortable with that topic, she shot him a cool stare. “I bet you hugged her, stroked her hair, and gave her a kiss good night.”

That gorgeous eyebrow lifted again. “And if I did?”

“Her little heart’s still pitty-patting over it, which is just fine. She’s got a thing for you.”

“Really?” He grinned widely. “How… interesting.”

“Don’t play with my aide. I need her focused.”

“How about you unfocus for just a little while, and I see if I can make your heart pitty-pat?”

She ran her tongue around her teeth. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot on my mind. It’d be a lot of work.”

“I enjoy my work.” With his eyes on hers, he stubbed out his cigarette, set down his glass. “And I’m damned good at it.”

She was facedown on the bed, naked and still vibrating, when the call came in. She grunted, blocked video, and answered. Thirty seconds later, she was rolling over and looking for her clothes. The call had been for her response to an anonymous tip on a domestic dispute. The address was all too familiar.

“That’s Holloway’s place. It’s not a 1222. He’s dead. It followed pattern.”

“I’ll go with you.” Roarke was already out of bed and reaching for his trousers.

She started to protest, then shrugged. “Okay. I have to tag Peabody for this, and she might not handle it well. I’m counting on you to give her the strokes because I’m going to have to be hard on her to keep her in line.”

“I don’t envy your job, Lieutenant,” Roarke said as he dressed in the dark.