Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)(81)

“There’s nothing you can do now,” she began, and he found himself snapping toward her.

“I feel useless enough at the moment without you adding to it.”

“Useless, my ass. We wouldn’t have the nests without you, and we now have all three. Maybe they’ll help track her next position, her next target. Fuck your ‘useless.’”

“Then there’s always something else I can do.”

“You should’ve gone with him. You should go home, make sure he goes to bed, and get some sleep yourself.”

“He wants what he wants, and I’ll sleep when you do. Shall we waste time arguing about it?”

“Fine.” She started off at a fast clip. “I sent Peabody ahead. I’ve got a consult with Mira, then I’m taking Mackie into Interview.”

“I’ll see what help I can be elsewhere.” Stopping, he took Eve’s arm—firmly. “He looked shaken and fragile. I couldn’t stand the idea that you would push him. And yourself. I couldn’t stand being caught between the pair of you when you both looked ready to drop, and neither would give way.”

“He held up.” She hissed out a breath. “I wasn’t going to push him, but I needed to know what he saw. He was right there, front lines, and he’s been there before. It gives me insight. She’s going to hit again, and likely quicker now. I needed him.”

“I know it.”

“What he did? I admire it more than I can say. He could’ve gone back in, stayed safe, but he went outside, he risked doing that to save lives.”

“He saved mine, and so did you. It’s a tricky dance for me.”

She stopped at the car. “You were the making of him, that’s what I see.” The stunned look on Roarke’s face had her shaking her head. “He wouldn’t be with you still if that wasn’t the way it is. You say you and I saved each other. Well, before I came along, the two of you did the same. Another way, another path, but just as true. You gave him purpose, and you gave him a son. So let’s just table all this crap.”

“Crap tabled.” Then he pulled her into his arms, held tight. “No one’s paying attention to the likes of us right now. So give me this, as I need it. I swear, I need it.”

She gave what he needed, and took what she needed. Held on. “You know, you got more Irish in there, trying to bully us into doing what you thought we should do.”

“A bloody lot of good it did me.” He drew back. “I’m going to find you a booster. Not now, not the sort you hate, as they wire you up. I’ll find something that suits you.”

“If anybody can. You can drive. I’ve got people to talk to.”

He got behind the wheel, glanced over at her. “Will this new sort of understanding, as it were, also table the daily sniping between you and Summerset?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Well then, there’s something to look forward to.”

—

She moved fast through Central, didn’t notice—as Roarke did—the other cops, support staff who recognized her, step aside to clear her way.

Even as she strode into Homicide, Peabody stood up behind her desk. “Mira’s in your office. Sweepers are all over the nests. We’re culling through wit reports. A few may be viable.”

“Keep it going. Mackie?”

“En route, with counsel.”

“In Interview, the minute he’s in the house. Give me ten with Mira.”

“I’ll take myself off to EDD,” Roarke told Eve. “And if I can’t be of use there, I’ll be elsewhere.”

“You could catch an hour’s sleep in the crib.”

“Not in this lifetime, or the next.”

“Snob.”

“So be it.” He’d have kissed her, actively longed to. But he understood there were Marriage Rules on either side. So he just flicked a finger down the dent in her chin and wandered away.

They’d both do what they could—and he’d access his home system, make certain Summerset was home, and in bed.

Then he’d find his cop a damn booster.

Mira stood in Eve’s office facing the case board. She’d tossed her coat on the visitor’s chair. Clothes might not have been high on Eve’s list of priorities, but observation was. And she observed Mira wore leg-hugging black pants with knee-high black boots and a floaty blue sweater rather than her usual pretty suit and heels.

“I need to update that.”

Mira didn’t turn. “It gives a good sense, and I’m fully briefed on this morning’s attack.”

“I need coffee. You want that tea stuff?”

“Yes, thanks. She continued her father’s agenda. Still seeking his approval.”

“She likes to kill.”

“Yes. Very much yes, but she’s still a child, and the child seeks to please the father. This is their bond. It began with weaponry, honing her skill there, and devolved into revenge. As his skills lessened due to his addiction, hers have sharpened. The apprentice has exceeded the master. She became his weapon.”

“She likes it,” Eve insisted.

“Again, I agree.” Mira took the tea, holding the cup as she studied the dead. “In the first attack, the other two victims were, essentially, cover. Or he convinced himself of that. But I wonder. Did he feel pride when she so skillfully struck three targets? I think he did. In the second, we had five struck, four dead, so he allowed her to test her skills. Or she increased on her own. And now the third.”