Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(74)

"Ditched them on the run. You're going to be okay, Dallas."

"Fucking-A. But I'm not going to any lame hospital. No, sir. Going home now. Where's Roarke? We're going home now, okay?"

"Eventually."

"That's right," she said, decisively, then slid under before they'd loaded her into the ambulance.

...

"She's going to be really mad when she comes out of it," Peabody said as she paced the ER waiting room.

"Oh yes." Roarke tapped his fingers against the side of the coffee cup. He'd yet to drink. "You did exactly right, Peabody, by calling the MTs, and me."

"Maybe you wouldn't mind mentioning that when she's lunging for my throat later. I don't know how she got up to pursue in the first place. That guy, he was big as a gorilla, and he flattened her. Probably jammed her shoulder when she rammed it into his groin. There I am, fumbling for my off-duty in this stupid little purse, and she's already taken him down and cuffed him. I should've been faster."

"I'd say you were quick enough. How are the feet?"

She curled up her toes. She had stripped off her ruined hose in the ladies' room. "Nothing a soak and a rub won't fix. Too bad about the shoes though. They were new and totally mag. Even without them I couldn't keep up with Dallas. She's like lightning."

"Long legs," he replied and thought of the blood he'd seen staining her trousers as she'd lain on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, she'd've apprehended if it hadn't been for the kid with the airboard. You can't beat her. She's-" She broke off, jittery when the ER doctor swung out.

"You're the husband?" the doctor asked with a nod to Roarke.

"Yes. How is she?"

"Spitting mad-I think she has some very ominous plans for you. And if you happen to be Peabody, you're in on them."

"She's okay." Peabody let out a gush of air. "That's great."

"She took a hard blow to the head. She's concussed, but that appears to be the worst of it. We've treated her shoulder, but she should refrain from lifting with it or any other strenuous activities for a couple of days, minimum. Her hip's going to give her some trouble, as are the ribs. But minimal blockers should relieve the discomfort there. We've patched up the cuts, cold-packed the bruises, the worst of which are facial. I'd like to keep her overnight for observation. In fact, I'd like to keep her for forty-eight hours."

"I can surmise her opinion of that idea."

"Mmm. A head injury of this nature is nothing to be trifled with. Her other injuries are serious enough to warrant an overnight. She needs to be observed and monitored."

"And will be, but at home. She's phobic about hospitals. I can assure you she'll recover more quickly, and easier on all concerned, at home. I've a doctor I can call on to make sure of it. Louise Dimatto."

"The Angel of Canal Street." The doctor nodded. "I'll sign her out, but I'm going to give you very specific instructions for her observation and care, and I'd like a followup from Dr. Dimatto."

"Agreed, and thank you."

"Treatment Room Three," she added as she walked away.

When he walked back a few minutes later, Eve was trying and failing to pull her boots on. "When I get these on, I'm using them to kick your balls into your throat."

"Darling, this isn't the time to think about sex." He walked to the examination table, lifted her chin with a fingertip. Her right cheek was a nightmare of bruising in colors already going sickly. Her right eye was swollen to a reddened, puffy slit. Her mouth was raw.

"Lieutenant." He touched his lips to her forehead. "You've been well and truly bashed."

"You let them give me drugs."

"I did."

"And haul me in here."

"Guilty." His fingers slipped around to the back of her head, gently measured the lump. "Your head may be hard, but even it has its limits. And let's just say I lost mine when I saw you lying there, bruised and bleeding."

"Peabody's going to fry for tagging you over this."

"She is not." On that single statement his voice went firm with command. "She's been out there pacing her poor, sore feet off worrying over you. So you'll go easy on her."

"You telling me my job now?"

"No, just your heart. She thinks if she'd been faster, you might not be here."

"That's bullshit. I had the lead, but she stayed in pursuit, even in those idiot shoes."

"Exactly so. You wouldn't happen to know what size she wears, would you?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind, I'll take care of it. Ready to go home?"

She slid off the table, but didn't object to having his hand support her. "Where's my ice cream?"

"You didn't behave, so there'll be no treat for you."

"That's just mean."

...

She was furious when she learned he'd called Louise in, but when she weighed that against the possibility of Roarke enlisting Summerset as a field MT, it was easier to swallow.

Especially when Louise walked into the bedroom carrying an enormous bowl of double chocolate chunk ice cream.