Judgment in Death (In Death #11)(73)

"Sit up, and no whining."

"I don't whine."

"Rarely," he agreed. "But when you do, you make up for the lack of quantity with quality."

She picked up the glass while he ran the healing wand over the worst of the bruises. "Why don't you crawl up in here with me, doc?"

"I intend to, a bit later. That's how I collect my fee."

She'd finished half the glass before she noticed the effects. "What did you put in here?" she demanded. "You put a blocker in here." When she started to set the glass aside, he simply plucked it out of her hand, gave her hair a yank to pull her head back, and poured the rest down her throat.

She choked, sputtered. "I hate that."

"Yes, I know, but I so enjoy it. Turn over."

"Kiss my ass."

"Darling, I will, once you turn over."

She had to laugh. She rolled, forced to admit, at least to herself, that the worst of the pain had eased. Better yet, she decided with a sigh, when that wonderful mouth of his brushed over her butt. "Keep going," she invited.

"Later. I want these aches to settle down first."

"I feel okay."

"I want to make love with you, Eve." He turned her over again, gently this time, leaned over her. "Slowly, thoroughly, and for a very long time. I want you to feel much better than okay before that happens."

"I'm starting to feel really good." She reached for him, but he took her hands, tugged her up.

"Tell me what happened."

"Well, if you're not going to jump me, I'm getting dressed."

"The robe." He held it out. "You'll be more comfortable in something loose. And it'll be less for me to take off you later."

Finding it hard to argue with his logic, she put the robe back on, then walked to the AutoChef. "You want something?"

"Whatever you're having's fine."

She ordered pasta for two, going for the spicy sauce. She sat with him, began to eat to fuel herself for the night to come, and told him about her day.

He listened, and the fact that he made no comments while she spoke had the nerves dancing at the base of her neck. Even when the delicate pasta began to taste like paste in her throat, she continued to eat.

"I've got some angles I want to play, and it takes a load off knowing I have the full support of the chief of police. It did my heart good to watch him skewer Bayliss. Bloodlessly. You have to admire that."

"Eve."

She met his eyes, cold as winter, blue as an iced ocean. Odd, she thought, how facing down four armed men only hours before had merely kicked her adrenaline into gear. One look from Roarke was a great deal more potent.

"He's gone after you three times. However much you dislike it, disapprove of it, I will deal with him."

"Two times," she corrected. "The third was just my car, and the score's been in my favor every time. But," she continued, "I anticipated your reaction. It's not going to do any good, but I'm going to point out that given my job, I've been gone after before and will be again. This personal thing between the two of you shouldn't enter into it."

"You're mistaken." And his voice was terrifyingly mild.

"But since it does, I want you to work with me on this."

She could sense his underlying fury.

"Do you think you can placate me, Eve?"

"No. Hell, no. Stop staring at me that way. You're spoiling my appetite." She tossed down her fork. "I could use your help. I asked for it before this happened today, didn't I? All that's changed is he sent another goon squad after me, and I took them down. He's got to be royally burnt by that. If we go at this from the same angle, work together, we can both get what we want.

"Well, you won't get exactly what you want, which is, at my guess, eating Ricker's liver after you've roasted it on a spit over a slow fire. But we can get as close to that as the law allows."

"The law's your yardstick, not mine."

"Roarke." She put a hand over his. "I can get him without you, but it wouldn't be as quick and it sure as hell wouldn't be as satisfying. You could get him without me. Maybe quicker, and maybe more satisfying to you. But think about this: Wouldn't you rather picture him living a long, miserable life in a cage than just throwing the switch on him?"

He considered it. "No."

"You're a scary guy, Roarke. A very scary guy."

"But I'll work with you on this, Lieutenant. And I'll contemplate, depending on how that work goes, settling for that image. I'll do that for you. I promise you, it costs me more than I can tell you."

"I know that. So, thanks."

"Don't thank me until it's done. Because if it doesn't work your way, it will work mine. What do you need?"

She let out a breath. "First I need to know why IAB sent Kohli into Purgatory. What is there in the club or who is there they wanted? Bayliss said something today about Ricker's connection to it, but you told me you severed business with him over ten years ago."

"That's right, I did, taking some of his more lucrative accounts with me. I've sold them off since, or adjusted them. As for Purgatory, he has no connection to it. But he did. I bought it from him five years ago. Or I should say," he added when she gaped. "My representatives acquired it from his representatives."