Rapture in Death

He didn't release her, only shifted his gaze to hers. "I don't suppose you bothered to let the MTs work on you."

"Those butchers?" She smiled. "I'm fine, just sore. I can get a quick treatment tomorrow."

"You'll be lucky if you can walk by tomorrow. Come on."

"Roarke – " But she winced and hobbled, and he pulled her into the bath.

"Sit. Be quiet."

"We don't have time for this." She sat, rolled her eyes. "It's going to take me a couple hours to get the stink and soot off. Christ, those boomers smell." She turned her head to sniff at her shoulder and grimaced. "Sulfur." Then she eyed him warily. "What's that?"

He approached with a thick pad soaked in something pink. "The best we can do at the moment. Stop wiggling." He laid the pad over her injured knee, holding it in place and ignoring her curses.

"That stings. Christ, are you crazy?"

"I'm begi

"Okay, okay." She huffed out a breath and kept the pad over her knee as he walked back to a wall cabinet. The sting was easing. She didn't want to admit that the ripe ache in her knee was backing off. "What's in this stuff?"

"This and that. It'll ease the swelling and numb the injury for a few hours." He came back with a small tube of liquid. "Drink it."

"Uh-uh, no drugs."

Very calmly, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Eve, if you're not in pain at the moment, it's due to adrenaline. You're going to hurt, and hurt big time, very shortly. I know what it feels like to be bruised and battered all over. Now drink it."

"I'll be fine. I don't want – " She gasped when he pinched her nose, drew her head back, and poured the liquid down her throat. "Bastard," she managed, choking and batting at him.

"That's a good girl. Now, into the shower." He walked to the glass-enclosed tube and ordered the spray at half force and a soothing eighty-six degrees.

"I'll get you for that. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I'll do it." She limped into the shower, still muttering. "Son of a bitch pours drugs down my throat. Treats me like a goddamn imbecile." The moan of relief came involuntarily as the soft water slid over her abused body.

He watched her, smiling as she braced both hands against the wall and ducked her head under the spray. "You'll want to wear something loose and floor length. Try the blue ankle sweep Leonardo designed for you."

"Oh, go to hell. I can dress myself. Why don't you stop staring at me and go order some of your minions around?"

"Darling, they're our minions now."

She bit off a chuckle and rapped her hand against the shower panel to access the 'link recessed there. "Brightmore Health Center," she ordered. "Fifth floor admissions." She waited for the co

It took her an hour, a relatively painless hour, she was forced to admit. Whatever Roarke had made her drink didn't leave her with that helpless, floaty feeling she detested. Instead, she felt alert and only slightly giddy.

It might have been the drug that made her admit, at least to herself, that he'd been right about the dress. It slid weightlessly over her skin, concealing the bruises stylishly with its high neck, long, tapering sleeves, and draping skirt. She added the diamond he'd given her as a symbolic apology for swearing at him – even though he'd deserved it.

With less resentment than usual, she fussed with her face, struggled with her hair. The result, she decided as she gave herself a study in the triple mirrors in the closet, wasn't half bad. She supposed she looked as close to elegant as she was ever going to get.

When she walked onto the roof terrace where the performance session of the party was to take place, Roarke's quick smile agreed with her. "There she is," he murmured and walked over to take both of her hands, bringing them to his lips.

"I don't think I'm talking to you."

"All right." He lowered his head and, mindful of bruises, kissed her lightly. "Feel better?"

"Maybe." She sighed and didn't bother to tug her hands away. "I guess I'll have to tolerate you, since you're doing all this for Mavis."

"We're doing it for Mavis."

"I haven't done anything."

"You married me," he pointed out. "How's Peabody? I heard you calling the health center from the shower."

"Mild concussion, bumps, and bruises. She was a little shocky, but she's stabilized. She went after the boomer." Remembering that moment, Eve blew out a slow breath. "It started to heat up right in her hand. No way I could get to her." She closed her eyes, shook her head. "Scared the hell out of me. I thought I'd find pieces of her everywhere."

"She's tough and smart, and she's learning from the best."

Eve opened her eyes, narrowed them. "Flattery isn't going to make me forgive you for drugging me."

"I'll find something else that will."

She surprised him by reaching up, framing his face with her hands. "We're going to talk about that, ace."

"Anytime. Lieutenant."

But she didn't smile. Her eyes only went more intense. "There's another thing we have to talk about. It's serious."

"I can see that." Concerned, he glanced around at the bustling caterers, the wait staff already lined up for their final briefing. "Summerset can handle the last of this. We can use the library."

"It's bad timing, I know, but it can't be helped." She took his hand, an instinctive gesture of support, as they headed out of the room and down the wide corridor toward the library.

Inside, he closed the door, ordered lights, then poured drinks. Mineral water for Eve. "You'll have to forgo alcohol for a few hours," he told her. "The painkiller doesn't mix well with it."

"I think I can restrain myself."

"Tell me."

"Okay." She set the glass aside without drinking, pushed both hands through her hair. "You've got a new VR unit on the market."

"I do." He sat on the arm of a leather sofa, took out a cigarette, and lighted it. "It hit a month, six weeks ago, depending on region. We've improved a number of the options and programs."

"With subliminals."

He blew out smoke thoughtfully. It wasn't difficult to read her, he thought, when you understood her. She was worried, stressed, and the soothing power of the drug couldn't overtake her in that area. "Naturally. Several of the option packages include a variety of subliminals. They're very popular." Still watching her, he nodded. "I take it Cerise had one of the new units and was using it before she jumped."

"Yeah. The lab hasn't yet been able to identify the subliminal. May turn out to be nothing, but – "

"You don't think so," he finished.

"Something triggered her. Something triggered all of them. I'm working on confiscating the VR units owned by the other subjects. If it turns out they all owned that new model… the investigation's going to circle around your company. On you."

"I had a sudden urge to encourage self-termination?"

"I know you had nothing to do with it," she said quickly and fiercely. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you out of it. I want – "

"Eve," he interrupted quietly, shifted to crush out his cigarette, "you don't have to explain yourself to me." He reached in his pocket, took out his memo card, and tapped in a code. "The R and D on that model was done in two locations. In Chicago and on Travis II. Manufacturing was handled by one of my subsidiaries, again on Travis II. The distribution and shipping, on and off planet, by Fleet. The packaging through Trillium, marketing by Top Drawer here in New York. I can have all the data sent to your office unit, if that's most convenient."