New York to Dallas (In Death #33)(106)

“How am I supposed to find anything when I’m locked in? How—” She broke off, cringing back when she heard the footsteps. “He’s coming.”

“He never left.” The mother walked to the door.

“Don’t open it. Please!”

“Whine, whine, whine.” She opened the door.

McQueen walked in, flashed a charming smile. “Hello, little girl,” he said in her father’s voice.

And bleeding from a dozen wounds, he came for her.

She bolted up in bed, clutching at her throat. The breath wouldn’t come, no matter how wildly her heart hammered, the breath wouldn’t come.

She didn’t even feel the cat butting his head fiercely against her side.

Roarke burst into the room. He leaped to the bed, clamped his hands on her arms. “I’m here. Eve. Look at me.”

She did, she was. She saw his face, his eyes violently blue against bone-white skin. She saw fear, and struggled to say his name.

“Breathe. Goddamn it.” He shook her, hard, lifting her half off the bed.

The shock of it unlocked her throat. When her breath exploded out, his arms wrapped around her. “It’s all right. You’re all right now. Just hold on to me.”

“He came for us.”

“No, baby, no. He’s not here. It’s just you and me. Just you and me.”

“You were there, behind the glass.”

“I’m here, right here.” He cupped her face so she could see him, feel him. “You’re safe.” His own breathing unsteady, he kissed her brow, her cheeks, wrapped the throw around her.

“The room. I was in that room. He locked me up. I don’t know which one. They were all there. The girls. All the girls were me.”

“It’s over.”

But it’s not, she thought, and closed her eyes. It’s not over.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

She opened her eyes, looked around. The hotel, she assured herself. The bedroom with the lights low and soft. The cat—he’d brought her the cat—and Galahad sat at her side watchful as a guard dog.

“Where did you go?”

“I had some work. Bloody work.” He bit off the words, his voice raw. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I went up to the office. You’d slept quiet, so I thought . . . I shouldn’t have left you.”

She studied his face now, looked beyond herself and into him. Guilt, fear, worry, anger. All that, she thought. All of that in him. “Did I scream?”

“No. You started to thrash and struggle, and when I got here—”

“How did you know? How did you know to come?”

“I had you on monitor.”

“You were watching me sleep,” she said slowly, “while you worked.”

“I’d hoped you’d sleep a bit longer. It’s early yet, barely dawn.”

“But you were working, and watching me.”

“It was hardly voyeuristic.”

She waved him, and the edge in his voice away. “You were worried about me, so you had to keep an eye on me while you tried to work.”

She thought of how he’d looked behind that glass wall, handling so many tasks at once with weariness on his face.

“Of course I was worried.”

“Because I might have a nightmare.”

“You did have a nightmare, so—”

She waved him off again, and this time shoved to her feet. “So you have to monitor me like I’m some sort of sick kid, and feel guilty because you actually took a little time, before the f**king sun came up, to deal with your own work. Well, that’s just enough. They’ve screwed us up long enough, and it’s got to stop. It’s going to stop.”

He watched her storm around the room and wondered if she knew she was gloriously naked, and absolutely shining with outrage. And watching her he felt more at peace than he had since she’d walked into his office in New York days before.

“I’m not putting up with this,” she continued. “You can’t even go out and buy up a solar system without worrying I’ll fall apart. How are you supposed to get anything done?”

“Actually, I’m not in the market for a solar system right at the moment.”

“Bad things happen, who knows better? Bad, unspeakable, ugly things happen whether you deserve them or not. Your father was a bastard, and he put you through hell, but you don’t sit around whining about it.”

“No. Neither do you.”

“That’s right.” She jabbed a finger at him. “That’s f**king-A right, and it’s just more crap that needs to be flushed. I am not a whiner. I’m not weak and stupid. I’m a goddamn cop.”

“To the bone.”

“Damn straight, so this subconscious shit better latch the hell on because I’m done letting it kick me around. I’m done letting it put that look on your face. I’m a goddamn cop, and it doesn’t matter why I am or how I am. What matters is doing the job, doing it right, doing it smart, doing it all the way through. What matters is you and me. What matters is you, because I f**king love you.”

“I f**king love you, too.”

“Bet your ass, you do, and you wouldn’t have fallen for some sniveling coward.”