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She did something then she rarely did, or Eve would rarely allow. Mira brushed her hand over Eve’s hair, then leaned in, kissed her cheek. “You’ll be wonderful, and when it’s done, when you’ve had a decent night’s sleep, you’ll talk to Roarke. Maybe he does have a choice to make, but everything I feel, everything I know, says absolutely that choice will always be you.” “She speaks French and Italian.” “That bitch.” Eve managed a laugh, then did something she’d never done. She simply lowered her brow to Mira’s and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.”
She stood just as Baxter headed in her direction. “Dallas,” he began, then studied her with a cocked head. “Sister, you look like something the cat wouldn’t bother to drag in.” “That’s Lieutenant Sister, and bite me.”
“You know,” Reo began, “you’d think things would slow down in this kind of weather. But despite the cold, the ice, the wind, people are still raping and robbing and ripping at each other.” Reo took an appreciative sip of coffee. “Kind of makes me proud to be a New Yorker.”
“Thanks. Ah…Hey, Feeney, did your wife ever give you any grief about…other women.” “What other women?” “Yeah, there’s that. But like, when you were training me, and we partnered up, we worked pretty tight.” “Wait a minute. You’re a woman?” It made her laugh and call herself a fool. “Turns out.
“You look like dog shit, Dallas,” Trina commented. “This is a recurring nightmare. I’m just going to punch myself in the face until I wake up.”
She heard Summerset say her name, and kept moving. Get out, was all she could think. Get away. “You need your coat.” As she yanked at the door, Summerset draped it over her shoulders. “It’s very cold. Eve.” He spoke her given name quietly, and nearly shattered her last line of defense. “Will you let her use you both this way?”
Welcome back. Can I offer you some refreshments?” Morris was in pewter today, with a purple shirt and braided pewter tie. His hair was in a long tail that made Eve think of glossy thoroughbreds. “Rather have a ruling.” Eve glanced down at Williams’s body. “Homicide.” “I have fudge brownies. Home-baked by the lovely hands of a Southern goddess.” Eve’s eyes narrowed on the mention of brownies. She swore she heard saliva pool in Peabody’s mouth. Then the Southern goddess mention struck. “Detective Coltraine?”
Leonardo answered. She saw it in his eyes, those big, liquid eyes of his, the sympathy. Then he simply enfolded her. The gesture had tears rushing to her throat that had to be brutally swallowed down. “I’m so glad to see you.” Those enormous hands rubbed, gently as bird wings, up and down Eve’s back.
“So…” Mavis nursed and rocked, nursed and rocked. “Why haven’t I heard any media dirt about a blonde fuckhead found floating in the East River?”
“You’re not going to tell me Roarke’s doing her, because NPW—no possible way. He wouldn’t. All guys have the small jerk gene, it makes them guys. But only some have the big jerk gene. He doesn’t.” “No, he’s not doing her. But he used to.” “I used to pick pockets. You used to arrest me.” “It’s different.”
But she paused, taking her coat off the newel where Summerset would have replaced it for her. She looked at him as she put it on. “He’s okay. We’re okay. She’s not going to be a problem for him anymore.” “Or for you?” “Or for me.” “I’m very glad to hear it.” “I know you are. Appreciate it.” “I’ve brought that unfortunate vehicle you’ve yet to wreck around in anticipation of your departure. I hope you won’t leave it soiling the front of the house much longer.” “Kiss my ass, scarecrow.” “There.” He smiled at her. “We’re back to normal.” She let out a snorting laugh, then strode out.
“Um, day off tomorrow. Yours, mine, and ours. Valentine’s Day, too.” “Jesus. Consider yourself on call, Detective. So be prepared to throw something over whatever embarrassing outfit you’re going to put yourself into for McNab’s perverted delight if and when I tag you.” Peabody gave a sober nod. “I have a trench coat reserved for that purpose, sir.”
“So what if I did? It’s just a game. You used to have a sense of humor, but apparently she’s whipped that out of you, too.” “You’ll never understand her, or me. You’ll never understand what we have. More pity for you, you’ll never have it. You’re not capable. So here’s how this plays now. Listen carefully: You’ll never step foot in my home again, or in any of my other properties or businesses—which includes every hotel, transportation system, shop, restaurant, and so forth that I own or have majority interest in. There are quite a number of them.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake. You can’t block me
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“Actually, I’d give that a good try, if only to watch you sweat. But, I don’t need to. If you’re not gone, well gone, within those three hours beginning…” He checked his wrist unit. “…now, Interpol and Global will receive some very interesting and very detailed information on you.” This time, she went dead white. “You’d betray me that way?” “Again, listen carefully. I’d crush you like a bug for causing my wife one single moment of pain. Believe it. Fear it.”
Eve stepped to the doorway to see Magdelana with her arms locked around Roarke’s neck, his hands on her bare shoulders—one of the ivory straps sliding to her elbow. “Son of a bitch,” she said. On cue, Magdelana spun around, her face full of passion and shock. “Oh, God. Oh…it’s not what it looks like.” “Bet.” Eve strode in. Actually, Roarke thought, it was more of a swagger. He had a moment to admire it, before Eve rammed her fist in his face. “Fuck me.” His head snapped back, and he tasted blood. Magdelana cried out, but even the deaf would have caught the suppressed laughter in the sound.
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“Bloody cop,” he muttered, hitting the release. “Bloody criminal.” “Former, and no convictions.” He pressed his mouth to hers, swore at the burn in his wounded lip. “You pack a punch, Lieutenant.” He reared up enough to look down at her face—brown eyes full of challenge, wide mouth curved in a smug smile. “You’re my goddamn Valentine.”
“I got you a present.” “Did you?” “It’s a book of poetry—romancy stuff. I thought, ‘How schmaltzy is that,’ so it seemed like the thing. Then I screwed up and left it in my desk at work.” He smiled, leaned down to kiss her softly. “Thank you.” She touched his cheek. “I’ve got to grab a shower and get to this. I planned to dig straight in, so we could maybe have a really late dinner, but then I had to punch you and your blonde tart, and one thing led to another.”
“I’d like to explain what Magdelana was doing here.” She slanted him a look. “Other than trying to lock lips with you?” “More specifically,” he said carefully as they started out of the bedroom, “why I allowed her in our home.” “I already got that. You needed to deal with it, with her. Needed to spell it out for her, give her the get lost, and put some of the fear of Roarke in her.” “How fortunate I am, under the circumstances, to have a woman who understands me. Fear of Roarke?” he repeated.
“You can do the fear of God thing, but see, you can’t see Him, and most people feel He’s not going to really—what is it—smite them. You, however, are flesh and blood, and would do a lot worse than a smite. You’re a lot scarier than God.”
