Born In Death

So she branched out to Europe.

The most interesting was a case, still open, in Rome where the missing woman had walked out of her regular OB exam in her thirty-sixth week, and poofed. Like Tandy, earlier in the pregnancy she had relocated to another city, moving from Florence three months before she went missing. She was single, had no family in that area. She’d been healthy, and lived alone. Unlike Tandy, this woman had applied for and received paid maternity leave during her second trimester.

A struggling artist, she had been in the process of finishing a mural of a fairyland on the walls of the nursery she’d outfitted in her apartment.

Or was it ‘flat’ in Italy, too? Eve wondered.

Sophia Belego had been missing for nearly two years. Gone without a trace.

After making a note of the investigator’s name, Eve stewed over the time difference. Italy was another place she couldn’t contact yet.

“Lieutenant.”

“What? Huh?”

“It’s now after two in the morning. New York time.”

“What is it in London?”

“Too early.” Roarke laid his hands on his wife’s shoulders, dug at the rocks that had taken up residence there. “And time for both of us to recharge.”

“I’ve got more in me.”

“You’ll have more yet after a few hours of sleep.”

“I’m working something from the data Peabody got from IRCCA.”

“And how much further can you take it tonight?”

Nowhere really, she thought. But still. “I haven’t written it all down. I need to put it into a report for the file, and copy MPU.”

“Which can wait until morning.”

“If she got snatched, she’s going on better than fifty hours missing. I need the damn data from the parking lot. And I’m not going to get that until morning,” she argued when he only looked at her. “Okay, a couple hours down.”

Because she was looking glassy-eyed, he moved to the elevator with her.

“You got anything for me?” she asked him.

“Nothing concrete. It’s going to take longer without names. With them, I could do more thorough excavating.” And, he thought, make use of his unregistered equipment and avoid CompuGuard’s beady eye if he went down a bit deeper than was technically allowed. “I’ve left a couple of programs ru

“I have to do some digging myself on that.” She pushed her tired brain from possible abduction into murder. “Cavendish to Bullock to Robert Kraus to Jacob Sloan – maybe three generations of Sloans – and from there to my vics. Something there. I think if I squeeze Cavendish right, he’ll spurt.”

As her mind shifted between two investigations, she undressed. “Why does a firm with that kind of – what is it – panache – use a guy like Cavendish to head up its New York branch? Nepotism, maybe, because he’s not as smart as he could be. Bruberry, his admin, she’s smart. But she’s not blood, so you put his name on the letterhead, and let her run it behind the scenes? That’s how it feels.”

Eve slid into bed. “Copperfield said she was offered a bribe. If I can show contact around the time of the murder between her and Cavendish’s office, I could squeeze from that angle. Or – ”

“Too much coffee for you.” He drew her close. “Turn off that head of yours and go to sleep.”

And how the hell was she supposed to do that? Because he was right, as usual. She’d poured too much coffee into her system. Her brain was ru

“Might have to go to London,” she murmured. “Huh. Wouldn’t it be a kick in the head if I really did have to be out of the country hunting a criminal mastermind when Mavis goes into labor?”

“I, my ass. That goes towe or I’ll hurt you.”

“Yeah, big talk.”

Since her brain was up, and her body insisted on following suit, she didn’t see why she shouldn’t put both to good use.

She trailed her fingers up his spine, then down while she angled her head and found his lips with hers in the dark.

“Are you trying to take advantage of my weakened state?”

“Damn right.”

“Just checking.” His lips curved against hers. “Go ahead then. I can’t stop you.”

“Guess you’ll have to lie there and take it.” She nipped at his jaw, slicked her tongue down his neck. “You could call for help.”

“My pride prevents me.”

Chuckling, she slid a hand down, found him already hard. “Yeah, you’re just full of pride.”

He tasted so good, all warm and ripe, and as her body pressed to his, rubbed bare flesh to bare flesh, she felt his heartbeat kick. She shifted, stretched herself over him so she could press her lips where that heart beat for her.

More than desire, she thought lazily. Here was knowledge and comfort, and a kind of communion.Turn to me, and I’ll be there. That was the simple answer they could always find together no matter what shadows hung over them. Through the past, through the present, they could always find the answer, and each other.

She felt his hands on her now, stroking to soothe or to arouse, and succeeding in doing both. For another moment, she stayed as she was, eyes closed, absorbing the sheer and simple pleasure of knowing where she belonged. Then, in the deep dark, in the deep quiet, she slid up him again until their lips met.

Movement and heat, he drifted into both as she did and rode on the warm current of sensation. The shape of her, the scents and the sounds, were so familiar, and so alluring. She, as no other ever could, reached every corner of his heart. His woman with her long, lean body, her courageous spirit and questing mind. His joy, and his salvation.

Here it was so clear, so easy, with only the two of them in a dance either could lead, both could follow.

And the need for her sang through him like a favorite melody.

She straddled him, laying her hands over his as he took her breast in his mouth. Letting her head fall back as she immersed herself in the next thrill, letting her mind empty of everything but what they gave to each other.

She took him in, slow, slow.

He quivered for her, he murmured to her, and at last he filled her. Her body bowed back, a slim white curve in the shadows. Then forward to rock them both breathless in the dark.

They wrapped around each other, sliding languidly down from that peak, her leg tossed intimately over his hip. She rested her brow lightly against his jaw until sanity returned.

“Better than cake,” she said, and made him laugh.

“So it was. And it was damned good cake.”

“Mmmm. What time is it anyway?”

“Ah…somewhere after three.”

She did the calculation in her head. “Good enough.” She tipped her head up, pressed her lips firmly to his. Then rolled away and sat up.

“And what are you about, Lieutenant?”

“I’m about waking up some people in Europe. Light on, five percent. Going to grab a shower first,” she said when the lights glowed dimly. “Wash the rest of the cobwebs out.”

He folded his arm behind his head. “So I served as a way to use up a bit of time till you determined it was reasonable to wake some poor sod up on a Sunday morning.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel so used. Thanks.”

“Welcome.” She felt clearheaded now, a good second wind. “I’m just going to get some things rolling, then I’ll catch a couple hours down.”

“Too right you will.” Then he sat up. “A bit longer then.”

“You don’t have to stay up.”

“You weren’t singing that tune a few minutes ago.” When she gri

Eve tried Candide Marrow first, and was bumped to voice mail. She left a message, then moved down the list to the stepsister.

A hoarse, muffled voice said, “Bugger off.”

“Briar Rose Marrow?”

“Do you know what bloody time it is?”