Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(61)

She opened her mouth, closed it. “It’s not a matter of how I see it, Roarke. The law — “

“The law should have protected you!” With visions dancing evilly in his head, he snapped. He could all but hear the tight wire of control break. “Goddamn the law. What good did it do either one of us when we needed it most? You want to chuck your badge because the law’s too f**king weak to care for its innocents, for its children, be my guest. Throw your career away. But you’re not getting rid of me.”

He started to grab her by the shoulders, then dropped his hands. “I can’t touch you.” Shaken by the violence that spewed up in him, he stepped back. “I’m afraid to put my hands on you. I couldn’t stand it if being with me reminded you of what he did.”

“No.” Appalled, it was she who reached out. “No. It doesn’t. It couldn’t. There’s nothing but you and me when you touch me. It’s just that I have to handle this.”

“Alone?” It was, he realized, the most bitter of words. “The way you had to handle the nightmares alone? I can’t go back and kill him for you, Eve. I’d give everything I have and more if I could do that one thing. But I can’t. I won’t let you deal with this without me. That’s not an option for either of us. Sit down.”

“Roarke.”

“Please, sit down.” He took one cleansing breath. She wouldn’t listen to anger, he decided. Nor, from him, to reason. “Do you trust Dr. Mira?”

“Yes, I mean — “

“As far as you trust anyone,” he finished. “That’ll do.” He walked over to her desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to call her.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know what time it is.” He engaged the ‘link. “I’m willing to abide by her advice on this. I’m asking you to do the same.”

She started to argue but found no solid ground. Weary, she dropped her head into her hands. “All right.”

She stayed there, barely listening to Roarke’s quiet voice, the murmured responses. When he came back to her, he reached out a hand. She stared at it.

“She’s on her way. Will you come downstairs?”

“I’m not doing this to hurt you or make you angry.”

“You’ve accomplished both, but that’s not the main issue here.” He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “I won’t let you go, Eve. If you didn’t love me or want me or need me, I would have to. But you do love me and want me. And though you still have difficulty with the concept, you need me.”

/ won’t use you, she thought, but she said nothing as they went downstairs.

It didn’t take Mira long. In her usual manner, she arrived promptly and perfectly groomed. She greeted Roarke serenely, took one look at Eve, and sat.

“I’d love a brandy, if you wouldn’t mind. I believe the lieutenant should join me.” As Roarke saw to the drinks, she looked around the room. “What a perfectly lovely home. It feels happy.” She smiled, cocked her head. “Why, Eve, you’ve changed your hair. It’s very flattering.”

Baffled, Roarke stopped, stared. “What have you done to it?”

Eve lifted a shoulder. “Nothing, really, just…”

“Men.” Mira took her brandy, swirled. “Why do we bother? When my husband fails to notice a change, he always says it’s because he adores me for me, not for my hair. I usually let him get away with it. Now then.” She sat back. “Can you tell me?”

“Yes.” Eve repeated everything she’d told Roarke. But it was the cop’s voice now, cool, composed, detached.

“It’s been a difficult night for you.” Mira skimmed her gaze over Roarke. “For both of you. It might be hard to believe that it will begin to be better now. Can you accept that your mind was ready to deal with this?”

“I suppose. The memories started coming more clearly, more often after that — ” She closed her eyes. “A few months ago I answered a domestic disturbance call. I was too late. The father was on Zeus. He’d hacked the little girl to death before I got in. I terminated him.”

“Yes, I remember. The child, she might have been you. Instead, you survived.”

“My father didn’t.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Glad. And uneasy, knowing I have that much hate in me.”

“He beat you. He raped you. He was your father and you should have been safe with him. You weren’t. How do you believe you should feel about that?”

“It was years ago.”

“It was yesterday,” Mira corrected. “It was an hour ago.”

“Yes.” Eve looked down at her brandy and squeezed the tears back.

“Was it wrong to defend yourself?”

“No. Not to defend. But I killed him. Even when he was dead, I kept killing him. This — blinding hate, uncontrollable rage. I was like an animal.”

“He had treated you like an animal. Made you an animal. Yes,” she said at Eve’s shudder. “More than stealing your childhood, your innocence, he stripped you of your humanity. There are technical terms for a personality capable of doing what he did to you, but in simple English,” she said in her cool tones, “he was a monster.”