Memory in Death (In Death #22)(114)

"He's a grown man, making his own decisions. Not helpless, Eve." He tipped her face up. "You did your job."

"I did my job. So what am I bitching about? It didn't tie up the way I wanted. That's the breaks. Nice that you're here, though. Good that you're here."

She turned, wandered over toward the tree.

"What else?"

"She said we were alike. We're not, I know we're not. But there's a piece of me like her, and that piece knows how she could pick up that sap and whale away. There's a piece of me that understands that."

"Eve, if you didn't have that piece, didn't understand why some use it and you don't, you wouldn't be such a damn good cop."

Weight simply slid off her shoulders as she turned and looked at him. "Yeah. Yeah. You're right. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

She walked back to him, tugged on the sleeve of his T-shirt. "What's this for, ace?"

"I thought I'd grab a workout, but my wife got home earlier than expected."

"I could use one myself. Burn off some of this annoyance." She stepped back to remove her weapon harness, then angled her head. "If you found out I'd been putting on a sham, that I'd hooked you just to get to your bottomless vault of moolah, what would you do about it?"

He gave her that wicked smile, that bolt of blue from the eyes. "Why now, darling Eve, I'd kick your sorry ass, then invest a great deal of that moolah in making the rest of your life bloody hell."

More weight lifted, and she grinned at him. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm a very lucky woman."

She tossed her weapon on the chair, dropped her badge beside it. Then she reached for his hand, linked fingers, and for a little while, put the job away.