Vengeance in Death (In Death #6)(67)

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind staying in bed a couple hours, if I had some coffee.”

The hand on her shoulder slid up to her cheek. “Maybe I’ll get you some.” He leaned forward to kiss her lightly, then found himself holding her tight against him, burying his face in her hair, rocking as every thought and fear he’d held back during the night flooded free. “Oh God.”

The emotions that poured out of him in those two words swamped her. “I’m all right. Don’t worry. I’m all right.”

He thought he’d dealt with it, thought that through the long night he’d conquered this sick, shaky sensation in his gut. But it shot back now, overwhelmingly strong. His only defense was to hold her. Just hold.

“The explosion came through Peabody’s communicator — loud and clear.” As his system began to settle again, he laid his cheek against hers. “There was a long, timeless period of blind terror. Getting there, then getting through the chaos. Blood and glass and smoke.” He ran his hands briskly up and down her arms as he drew back. “Then I heard you, sniping at the MT, and life snapped back into place for me.” He did kiss her now, lightly. “I’ll get your coffee.”

Eve studied her hands as Roarke walked across the room. The scrapes and abrasions had been treated, and treated well. There was barely a mark left to show for their violent meeting with asphalt. “No one ever loved me before you.” She lifted her gaze to his as he sat on the bed again. “I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it, and maybe I won’t. But I’ve gotten to depend on it.”

She took the coffee he offered, then his hand. “I was giving the MT grief because he wouldn’t get me a communicator. I had to get one to call you, to tell you I was okay. It was the first thing I thought of when I came to… Roarke. That was the first thing in my head.”

He brought their joined hands to his lips. “We’ve gone and done it, haven’t we?”

“Done what?”

“Become a unit.”

It made her smile. “I guess we have. Are we okay now?”

“We’re fine. Clear liquids were recommended as your upon awakening meal, but I imagine we’d like something more substantial.”

“I could eat the best part of a cow still on the hoof.”

“I don’t know that we have that particular delicacy in the pantry, but I’ll see what I can come up with.”

It wasn’t so bad, she decided, this being tended to. Not when it included breakfast in bed. She plowed her way through a mushroom and chive omelette made from eggs laid by pampered brown hens.

“I just needed fuel,” she managed over a bite of a cinnamon bagel. “I feel fine now.”

Roarke chose one of the thumb-sized raspberries from her breakfast tray. “You look amazingly well under the circumstances. Have you any idea how a bomb was planted in your official unit?”

“I’ve got a couple of theories. I need to —” She broke off, frowned a little when a knock sounded on the door.

“Peabody, I imagine. She’d be prompt.” He went to the door himself to let her in.

“How is she?” Peabody whispered. “I thought they might have kept her overnight at the hospital.”

“They might have, but then she’d have hurt me.”

“No whispering,” Eve called out. “Peabody, I want a report.”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody crossed over to the bed, then grinned from ear to ear. The woman in a red silk nightie, settled back on a mountain of pillows in a huge bed, a tray loaded with food on fine china settled over her lap, was not the usual image of Eve Dallas. “You look like something out of an old movie,” she began. “You know, like… Bette Crawford.”

“That would be Davis,” Roarke told her, after he’d disguised a chuckle with a cough. “Or Joan Crawford.”

“Whatever. You look sort of glam, Dallas.”

Mortified, Eve straightened up. “I don’t believe I asked for a report on my appearance, Officer Peabody.”

“She’s still a little testy,” Roarke commented. “Would you like some coffee, Peabody, a bit of breakfast?”

“I had some…” Her eyes brightened. “Are those raspberries? Wow.”

“They’re fresh. I have an agri-dome nearby. Make yourself comfortable.”

“When you two finish socializing, maybe we could take a moment to discuss… oh, I don’t know, how about car bombs?”

“I have the reports.” Drawn by the raspberries, Peabody sat on the side of the bed. She balanced her shiny black shoe on the knee of her starched uniform pants. “The sweepers and bomb team put it together pretty fast. Thanks, this is great,” she added when Roarke supplied her with a tray of her own. “We used to grow raspberries when I was a kid.” She sampled one and sighed. “Takes me back.”

“Try to stay in this decade, Peabody.”

“Yes, sir. I —” She glanced over at the three quick raps on the door. “Must be McNab.”

McNab poked his head around the door. “All clear. Hey, some bedroom. Outstanding. Is that coffee I smell? Hey, Lieutenant, looking decent. What kind of berries are those?”

He crossed the room as he spoke, the cat jogging in behind him. When both of them made themselves cozy on the bed, Eve simply gaped.