Loyalty in Death

"No. No police!" She gathered the sheet close and struggled up. Her dark violet eyes were brilliant with fear. "He'd kill me if I did. And he knows people on the force. High-up people. I can never call the police."

She'd begun to tremble, so he soothed. "That's not important now. Let me help you get dressed. Let me take you to a healer – the doctor," he corrected, remembering where he was. "Then we'll talk about what's next."

"Oh, Zeke." Her breath shuddered out as she lay her head on his shoulder. "There is no next. Don't you see this is it for me? He'll never let me go. He's told me. He's told me what he'd do to me if I try to leave. I'm just not strong enough to fight him."

He slipped his arms around her, rocked her. "I am."

"You're so young." She shook her head. "I'm not."

"That's not true. You feel helpless because you've been alone. You're not alone now. I'll help you. My family will."

He brushed at her loose and tangled hair, cloud soft under his hand. "At home, my home," he said, keeping his voice a reassuring murmur. "It's peaceful. Remember how big and open and quiet the desert is? You can heal there."

"I was almost happy for those few days. All that space. The stars. You. If I believed there was a chance – "

"Give me the chance." Gently, he tipped her face back. The bruises on her face nearly broke his heart. "I love you."

Tears swam into her eyes. "You can't. You don't know what I've done."

"Nothing he's made you do counts. And it doesn't matter what I feel, but what you need. You can't stay with him."

"I can't drag you into this, Zeke. It's wrong."

"I won't leave you." He pressed his mouth to her hair. "When you're safe, if you want me to go, I will. But not until you're safe."

"Safe." She barely breathed the word. "I stopped believing I could be safe. If there's a chance…" She drew back, looked into his eyes. "I need time to think."

"Clarissa – "

"I have to be sure I can go through with it. I have to have time. Please, try to understand. Give me today." She closed a hand over his. "He can't hurt me any more than he already has. Give me today to look inside myself and see if there's anything there worth offering you. Or anyone else." "I'm not asking for anything."

"But I am." Her lips trembled into a smile. "Finally, I am. Will you give me a number where I can reach you? I want you to go home now. B. D. won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, and I need this time alone."

"All right. If you promise that whatever you decide, you'll call."

"I will." She picked up a memo from the bedside table and offered it. "I'll call you by tonight. I promise." When he'd entered the number, she took it from him, slipped it into the drawer. "Please, go now. I need to see how many pieces I can pick up on my own."

"I won't be far away," he told her.

She waited until he reached the door. "Zeke? When I met you in Arizona – when I saw you, looked at you… something inside me I'd thought had died seemed to stir again. I don't know if it's love. I don't know if I have love anymore. But if I do, it's for you."

"I'll take care of you, Clarissa. He'll never hurt you again."

Opening the door and leaving her was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Eve gave her battered vehicle one long scowl as she strode across the garage. It wasn't that appearance mattered much. Since Zeke and Roarke had played with it, the heap was back in top ru

"It's goddamn pitiful when a homicide lieutenant has to drive around in a wreck like this while those bozos in Illegals get zoomers." She gave the shiny, streamlined all-terrain two spaces down from hers an avaricious glare.

"Just needs some body work, some paint, a little new shielding." Peabody opened her door.

"It's the principle. Murder cops always get the shaft." Eve slammed in her side, a mistake, as the door popped right back open. "Oh fine, great."

"I noticed that little hitch yesterday when I took it home. What you have to do is lift up some, kind of jiggle it and slide it home. Zeke'll fix it for you first chance he gets. I forgot to mention it to him last night."

Eve held up her hands, took several slow, deep breaths. "Okay, no point in bitching about it." "But you have such a smooth bitching style, sir."

Eve slanted Peabody a look as she went to work on the door. "That's better. You were starting to worry me. I've hardly heard a single smart-ass remark out of you for two days."

"I'm off my rhythm," Peabody muttered, and pressed her lips together. She could still taste McNab.

Eve secured the door. "Problem?"

"I – " She wanted to tell someone, but it was just too humiliating. "No, no problem. Where's the first stop?"

Eve lifted her brows. It was rare for Peabody not to walk through a door she'd opened. Reminding herself that personal lives were personal lives for a reason, Eve backed out of her slot. "Autotron. Get the address."

"I know it. It's a few blocks west of my place, on Ninth. Ninth and Twelfth. What's there?"

"A guy who likes bombs."

She filled Peabody in on the way.

When she pulled into the garage at Autotron, gate security took one look at her car and strode over snappily to glance at the badge she held up for view.

"You've already been cleared, Lieutenant. Your space is reserved. Slot thirty-six, level A. It's just up on your left."

"Who cleared me?" Though she wondered why she bothered to ask.

"Roarke. Take the first bank of elevators to the eighth floor. You'll be met."

Her eyes flashed once, then she drove in. "He just doesn't know when to step out."

"Well, it speeds things up. Saves time."

She wanted to say she wasn't in any hurry, but it was such a ridiculous lie Eve clamped her mouth shut. And smoldered. "If he's already questioned Lamont, I'm tying his tongue into a knot."

"Can I watch?" Peabody gri

"Lose it." Irritated, she slammed the door before she remembered, then cursed roundly when the leading edge of it bounced on the concrete floor. "Son of a bitch." She kicked it, only because it seemed called for, then muscled it back into the frame. "Say nothing," she warned Peabody, then stalked to the elevator.

Peabody stepped into the elevator, folded her hands, and studiously studied the ascending numbers over the door.

The eighth floor was a wide, airy office and reception area filled with clerks and drones and snazzily suited execs. It was done in navys and grays with the startling slap and dash of wild red flowers streaming along under the windows and around a central console.

She thought that Roarke had a thing about flowers in the businessplace – anyplace, really. His main headquarters in midtown was alive with them.

She'd barely stepped out, had yet to reach for her badge, when a tall man in a severely cut black suit came toward her with a polished smile.

"Lieutenant Dallas. Roarke's expecting you. If you and your aide would follow me?"

A nasty part of her wanted to tell him to inform his boss to keep his pretty nose out of her business, but she sucked it in. She needed to talk to Lamont, and if Roarke had decided to be the line to him, it would take more time and energy than she had to waste to go around him.

She followed him through the cubicles, past snazzier offices, more flowers, and through open double doors to a spacious conference room.

The center table was a thick, clear slab, lined with matching chairs with deep blue cushions, seat and back. A quick glance showed it held all the comforts and over-the-top technology she expected from anything Roarke had his hand in or his name on.