Loyalty in Death

Roarke said nothing, simply waited her out. Eve picked up the broth. Her throat was raw, and it was better than nothing. "And when I finished hammering him, Peabody follows me into the John and thanks me for it. For Christ's sake."

He rose because she'd dropped her throbbing head into her hands. But when his hands came down to rest on her shoulders, she tried to shrug them off. "Don't. I can't take any more understanding tonight."

"That's a pity." He lowered his lips to the top of her head. "You've been training Peabody for months now. Do you think she doesn't know how your mind works?"

"Right now I don't know how the hell it works. She – Clarissa – she said he'd beaten her, raped her. Whenever he wanted. For years. Over and over for years."

Roarke's fingers tightened on her shoulders before he controlled them, gentled them. "I'm sorry, Eve."

"I've heard it before, from witnesses, suspects, victims. I can handle it. I can deal with it. But every time, every goddamn time, it's like a fist in the gut. Right under the guard and into the gut. Every time."

For a moment, just a moment, she let herself lean back, into him, into the comfort. "I have to keep going here." She rose, moved away from him. "You shouldn't have called in your spiffy lawyer, Roarke. It's sticky. This whole deal is very, very sticky."

"She cried on my shoulder. Sturdy, stalwart Peabody. Would you ask me to turn away from that?"

Eve shook her head. "Okay." She pressed her fingers to her eyes, willing the headache away. "We'll deal with it. I'm going to call Nadine."

"Now?"

After blowing out a breath, Eve turned back. Her eyes were clear again. "I'm going to offer her a one-on-one, right here, right now. She'll jump at it, and we'll have our spin on this right out of the box."

She walked back to the 'link to make the call. "Go home, Roarke."

"I will. When you do."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He bullied her into going home. Or she let him think he did. Zeke had been released on his own recognizance and was to report to Dr. Mira's office at nine a.m. Clarissa was tucked in a private room at her swanky health center and sedated for the night.

Eve had stationed a guard at her door.

Nadine's story hit the air at midnight and carried exactly the brisk tone of a routine if tragic accident that Eve had wanted.

The crime scene evidence was in and would be fully analyzed the next morning. The body was still somewhere in the depths of the East River, and there was simply no more to be done.

So at two a.m. she stripped off her clothes and prepared to fall into her own bed.

"Eve?" Roarke noted her weapon and harness were now out of reach. When she turned her head toward him, he caught her chin and shoved a pain blocker into her mouth. Before she could spit it at him, he caught her close, clever hands roaming down to squeeze her naked ass, and crushed his mouth to hers.

She choked, swallowed in self-defense, and felt his tongue dance lightly over hers. "That was low." She shoved away, coughed a little. "That was despicable."

"That worked." He caressed her cheek and gave her an affectionate shove into bed. "You'll feel better for it in the morning."

"In the morning, after coffee, I'm going to smack you around."

He slid into bed beside her, cuddled her against him. "Mmm. I can't wait. Go to sleep."

"You won't think it's so fu

Four hours later, she awoke in exactly the same position. Exhaustion had gobbled her up, and she'd slept like a stone. She blinked, saw Roarke's eyes were already open and on hers. "Time?" she croaked it out.

"Just past six. Take a few minutes more."

"No, I can get started from here." She climbed over him, then stumbled groggily into the bathroom. In the shower, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes, and realized – with some resentment – her headache was gone.

"Jets on full, a hundred and one degrees."

Water streamed out from half a dozen jets, billowing steam. She let out one low, appreciative moan, then hair dripping, narrowed her eyes as Roarke stepped in behind her.

"Lower the temp and suffer."

"I thought I'd boil with you this morning." He handed her a cup of coffee, amused by the suspicious look in her eyes, pleased that they showed no shadow of pain. "I'll be working at home myself for a few hours today."

He sipped his own coffee, then set the mug on a high shelf above the pumping jets. "I'd like you to keep me apprised of progress, in both the helpings you currently have on your plate."

"I'll tell you what I can, when I can."

"Good enough." He filled his hands with soap and began to slide them over her.

"I can manage this myself." She stepped back because the blood was already sizzling under her skin. "I don't have time for water games this morning."

He only moved in, gliding his hands up over her belly, torso, breasts, which made her shiver. "I said – " His mouth lowered to her shoulder, teeth nipping. "Cut it out."

"I love it when you're wet…" He took the mug out of her hand before she could drop it, set it next to his own. "And slippery." Nudged her against the wall ru

Her head fell back, her body took over. "Damn it." It came out in a moan as pleasure, dark and drugged, spread from her center to the tips of her fingers.

"Go over." He slicked his tongue down the side of her throat and gave her no choice.

Her hands were splayed against the wet tile, her body pulsing. Water rained over them, hot and needle sharp, as he felt the orgasm tear through her.

A kind of purging, he thought.

She was still gasping when he spun her around and closed his mouth greedily over her breast.

She was helpless against what he brought to her. Each time, every time, helpless, staggered. And grateful. She dived her fingers into his hair, twisting, tangling them in that thick wet silk while those good, strong tugs of desire in her belly followed the restless hunger of his mouth on her.

His hands, slick, skilled, strong, raced over her, took her to the edge and over. Where he wanted her, where he needed her – shuddering, moaning his name, swamped in her own pleasure.

The nails biting viciously into his back thrilled him, the frenzied race of her heart against his incited him. More. All. Now, was all he could think as they savaged each other's mouths.

"I want you." His breath was heaving as he gripped her hips. "Always. Ever. Mine."

His eyes were a wild and burning blue. She could see nothing else. It should have been too much, this desperate, endless need for him. Yet somehow it was never, never enough. "Mine." She dragged his mouth back to hers, and when he drove into her, met him beat for urgent beat.

– =O=-***-=O=-

She had to admit, four solid hours of sleep, wet, wild sex, and a hot meal went a long way to put the mind and body back into fighting trim. At seven-fifteen, she was at her desk in her home office, ready to start her day with her head clear and alert, her muscles warmed, and her energy up.

Marriage was having a number of interesting side benefits she hadn't considered.

"You look… limber, Lieutenant."

She glanced over. "I'd better. I want to put in a half hour here before I head in. We've still got Cassandra to deal with, and I need to keep Peabody's energies focused in that direction."

"While you juggle Zeke's case with your other hand."

"Cops are always juggling." She had some very definite ideas where she was heading in that particular area. "I'm going to split McNab's duties. We can spare him to put time into the Branson case until we smooth it out. It helped having him around last night."