Witness in Death

"Oh yeah, right. I say, how about it, Charles, and I'm a client."

The muscles in his belly went taunt as wire. "Is that what you think?"

"I don't know what to think." She dropped into her chair again, briefly held her head in her hand. "Why did you have to tell her that?"

"I suppose I was defending myself." It was a tough admission to swallow. "I didn't think beyond it. I'm very sorry." He moved his chair over so that he could sit close and take her hand. "Delia, I didn't want to spoil our friendship, and for the first stages of it, I was hung up on someone who couldn't, who wouldn't be with me because of what I am. You helped me through that. I care very much about you. If you want more…"

He lifted her hand, brushed his lips over the inside of her wrist.

Her pulse gave a little dance. It was only natural, she supposed. Just as it was natural for her blood to go warm, very warm, when he shifted that skilled mouth from her wrist to her lips.

But doubts churned inside of her, side by side with simple lust. It was infuriating to realize not all the doubts were directed at Charles.

"Sorry." She broke the kiss, eased back, and wondered when she'd lost her mind. There was a gorgeous man she liked very much, and who knew all there was to know about sexual pleasures, ready to show her just what could be done to the human body, and she was playing coy.

"I've hurt your feelings."

"No. Well, maybe a little." She drummed up a smile. "Fact is, this is a first for me. I've completely lost my appetite. All across the board."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Working out of her home office could be an advantage. The equipment, even counting her new computer system at Central, was far superior. There were fewer distractions. And it was next to impossible to run out of coffee.

Eve chose to do so from time to time, even if only to have a fresh view to clear her mind.

Her plan today was to start the morning with something fulfilling. She stood in the center of her home office, smirking down at her old, despised, computer.

"Today," she told it, "death comes to all your circuits. Will it be slow and systematic or fast and brutal?" Considering, she circled it. "Tough decision. I've waited so long for this moment. Dreamed of it."

Showing her teeth, she began to roll up her sleeves.

"What," Roarke asked from the doorway that co

"The former bane of my existence. The Antichrist of technology. Do we have a hammer?"

Studying the pile on the floor, he walked in. "Several, I imagine, of various types."

"I want all of them. Tiny little hammers, big, wall-bangers, and everything in between."

"Might one ask why?"

"I'm going to beat this thing apart, byte by byte, until there's nothing left but dust from the last trembling chip."

"Hmmm." Roarke crouched down, examined the pitifully out-of-date system. "When did you haul this mess in here?"

"Just now. I had it in the car. Maybe I should use acid, just stand here and watch it hiss and dissolve. That could be good."

Saying nothing, Roarke took a small case out of his pocket, opened it, and chose a slim tool. With a few deft moves, he had the housing open.

"Hey! Hey! What're you doing?"

"I haven't seen anything like this in a decade. Fascinating. Look at this corrosion. Christ, this is a SOC chip system. And it's cross-wired."

When he began to fiddle, she rushed over and slapped at his hands. "Mine. I get to kill it."

"Get a grip on yourself," he said absently and delved deeper into the guts. "I'll take this into research."

"No. Uh-uh. I have to bust it apart. What if it breeds?"

He gri

"What're you talking about? Jamie Lingstrom, the e-prodigy?"

"Mmm. He does a little work for me now and then."

"He's a kid."

"A very bright one. Bright enough that I prefer having him on my team rather than competing with him. It'll be interesting to see what he can do with an old, defective system like this."

"But I want it dead."

He had to smother a chuckle. It was as close to a whine as he'd ever heard from her. "There, there, darling. I'll find you something else to beat up. Or better," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "another outlet entirely for all that delightful natural aggression."

"Sex wouldn't give me the same rush."

"Ah. A dare." He accepted it by leaning down and biting her jaw. When she swore at him, he took her mouth in a hot, hungry, brain-sucking kiss.

"Okay, that was pretty good, but just what are you doing with your hands back there?"

"Hardly anything until I lock the door, and then – "

"Okay, okay, you can have the damn thing." She shoved away from him, tried to catch her breath. Her system was vibrating. "Just get it out of my sight."

"Thank you." He caught her hand, lifted it, nibbled on her fingers as he watched her. One taste of her always made him crave another. And another. He tugged her forward, intending to nudge her into his office.

Peabody walked in.

"Sorry." She averted her eyes, tilting her head to study the ceiling. "Summerset said I should come right up."

"Good morning, Peabody." Roarke gave his wife's furrowed brow a quick brush of his lips. "Can we get you some coffee?"

"I'll get it. Don't mind me. Just a lowly aide." She muttered it as she crossed the room, giving Eve a wide berth as she aimed for the kitchen.

"She's upset about something." Roarke frowned toward the kitchen area as he listened to Peabody muttering as she programmed the AutoChef.

"She just hasn't had her morning fix yet. Take that heap of junk out of here if you want it so much. I have to get to work."

He hefted the system, discovered he had to put his back into it. "They made them a lot heavier back then. I'll be working from home until noon," he called over his shoulder, then his door closed behind him.

It was probably shallow, it was definitely girlie to have gotten such a rise out of watching that ripple of muscle. Eve told herself she wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't stirred her up in the first place.

"Peabody, bring me a cup of that."

She went behind her desk, called up the Draco file, and separating it into suspects, witnesses, evidence gathered, and lab reports, ordered all data on the screens.

"I reviewed the disc of the play last night," she began when she heard the sturdy clop of Peabody's hard-soled cop shoes cross the room. "I have a theory."

"Your coffee, Lieutenant. Shall I record, sir?"

"Huh?" Eve was studying the screens, trying to shift and rearrange data in her mind. But Peabody's stiff tone distracted her. "No, I'm just ru

She turned back and saw that once again Roarke was right. Something was up with her aide. She ordered herself not to poke into the personal, and sat. "We've pretty well nailed down the time of the switch. The prop knife is clearly visible here. Computer, Visual Evidence 6-B, on screen five."

"You've marked and recorded this VE?" Peabody asked, her voice cold as February.

"Last night, after my review." Eve moved her shoulders. The snipe was like a hot itch between her shoulder blades. "So?"

"Just updating my own records, Lieutenant. It is my job."

Fuck it. "Nobody's telling you not to do your job. I'm briefing you, aren't I?"

"Selectively, it appears."

"Okay, what the hell does that mean?"

"I had occasion to return to Central last night." That just added to her slow burn. "In the process of reviewing the file, assimilating evidence and the time line, certain pieces of that evidence, marked and sealed for Level Five, came to my attention. I was unaware, until that point, that there were areas of this investigation considered off limits to your aide and your team. Respectfully, sir, this policy can and will hamper the efficiency of said aide and said team."