Naked in Death (In Death #1)(96)

Since he wanted to see the damage for himself, he carried her in, set her on the toilet. He found strong, police issue pain pills in a nearly empty medicine cabinet. He offered one, and water, before dampening a cloth.

She pushed at her hair with her good arm. “I forgot to tell Feeney. DeBlass is dead. Suicide. What they used to call eating your gun. Hell of a phrase.”

“Don’t worry about it now.” Roarke worked on the bullet wound first. It was a nasty gash, but the bleeding had already slowed. Any competent MT could close it in a matter of minutes. It didn’t make his hands any steadier.

“There were two killers.” She frowned at the far wall. “That was the problem. I clicked onto it, but then I let it go. Data indicated low probability percentage. Stupid.”

Roarke rinsed out the cloth and started on her face. He was deliriously relieved that most of the blood on it wasn’t hers. Her mouth was cut, her left eye already beginning to swell. There was raw color along her cheekbone.

He managed to take a full, almost easy breath. “You’re going to have a hell of a bruise.”

“I’ve had them before.” The medication was seeping in, turning pain into a mist. She only smiled when he stripped her to the waist and began checking for other injuries. “You’ve got great hands. I love when you touch me. Nobody ever touched me like that. Did I tell you?”

“No.” And he doubted she’d remember she was telling him now. He’d make sure to remind her.

“And you’re so pretty. So pretty,” she repeated, lifting a bleeding hand to his face. “I keep wondering what you’re doing here.”

He took her hand, wrapped a cloth gently around it. “I’ve asked myself the same question.”

She grinned foolishly, let herself float. Need to file my report, she thought hazily. Soon. “You don’t really think we’re going to make anything out of this, do you? Roarke and the cop?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.” There were plenty of bruises, but the bluing along her ribs worried him most.

“Okay. Maybe I could lie down now? Can we go to your place, ‘cause Feeney’s going to send a team in to record the scene and all that. If I could just take a little nap before I go in to make my report.”

“You’re going to the closest health center.”

“No, uh-uh. Can’t stand them. Hospitals, health centers, doctors.” She gave him a glassy-eyed smile and lifted her arms. “Let me sleep in your bed, Roarke. Okay? The great big one, up on the platform, under the sky.”

For lack of anything closer to hand, he took off his jacket and slipped it around her. When he picked her up again, her head lolled on his shoulder.

“Don’t forget Galahad. The cat saved my life. Who’d have thought?”

“Then he gets caviar for the whole of his nine lives.” Roarke snapped his fingers and the cat fell happily into step.

“Door’s broken.” Eve chuckled as Roarke stepped around it and into the hall. “Landlord’s going to be pissed. But I know how to get around him.” She pressed a kiss to Roarke’s throat. “I’m glad it’s over,” she said, sighing. “I’m glad you’re here. Be nice if you stuck around.”

“Count on it.” Shifting her, he bent down and retrieved the package he’d dropped in the hallway in his race to her door. There was a fresh pound of coffee inside. He figured he’d need it as a bribe when she woke up and found herself in a hospital bed.

“Don’t wanna dream tonight,” she murmured as she drifted off.

He stepped into the elevator, the cat at his feet. “No.” He brushed his lips over Eve’s hair. “No dreams tonight.”