Loyalty In Death Part 32

Breath shallow, the child like a stone doll in her arms, Eve crept forward. She saw figures, male, female, hardly more than smudges on the smoke.

But she recognized him. The build, the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head. I killed you, was all she could think. I killed you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h. Why won't you stay dead?

"They're monsters," the child whispered to Eve. "Monsters never die." But they did, Eve thought. If you stood up long enough, they did.

"Should've gotten rid of it while you had the chance," the man who had been Eve's father said with a careless shrug. "Too late now, sweetie-pie." "I wish to Christ I had. I never wanted the little b.i.t.c.h in the first place. Now you owe me, Rick. Give me the price of a corner fix, or -- "

"You don't want to threaten me."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n you, I've been in this hole all day with that sniveling kid. You f.u.c.king owe me."

"Here's what I owe you." Eve cowered back at the sound of a fist smashing into bone. The sharp cry that followed. "Here's what I f.u.c.king owe both of you."

She stood paralyzed as he beat the woman, as he raped her. And realizing the child she held tight in her arms was herself, she began to scream.

"Eve, stop. Come on now, wake up." Roarke had bolted out of his chair at the first scream, had her up and into his arms by the second. And still she thrashed.

"It's me." She shoved at him, kicked. "It's me, and I can't get out."

"Yes, you can. You're out now. You're with me now." Shifting her, he pressed the mechanism on the wall and brought out the bed. "Come on, all the way back. You're with me. Understand?"

"I'm all right. Let go. I'm okay."

"Not a chance." She was shaking even as he sat on the edge of the bed and cradled her in his lap. "Just relax. Just hold onto me and relax."

"I fell asleep, that's all. I nodded off for a minute." He eased her back to study her face. It was the understanding in his eyes, those fabulous eyes, the patience there and the love that did her in. "Oh G.o.d." Surrendering, she pressed her face to his shoulder. "Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d. Just give me a minute."

"All you need."

"I guess I hadn't let go of today. Everything. All those people -- what was left of them. You can't let it get in the way of the job, or you can't do the job." "So it slices you up when you shut down."

"Maybe. Sometimes."

"Darling Eve." He brushed his lips over her hair. "You suffer for all of them. And always have." "If they're not people to me, what's the point?" "None. Not for you. I love who you are." He drew back again to stroke her cheek. "And still, it worries me. How much can you give and still stand up to it?"

"As much as it takes. It wasn't only that." She drew a breath, then another, steadying herself. "I don't know if it was a dream or a memory. I just don't know."

"Tell me."

She did, because with him she could. She told him of finding the child, of the vague figures in the smoke. Of what she'd heard, and what she'd seen. "You think it was your mother."

"I don't know. I have to get up. I have to move." She rubbed her hands over her arms when he released her. "Maybe I was -- what do they call it?

Projecting or transposing. What the h.e.l.l. I'd been thinking of Monica Rowan, what kind of woman would have turned her kids over to a man like James Rowan. Like I said before, it reminded me."

"We don't know that she did."

"Well, he had them, anyway, just like my father had me. It's probably all it was.

I've never had any memory of her. I've got nothing of her." "You've remembered other things," he pointed out, and rose to warm her arms himself.

"This could be one of them. Eve, talk to Mira." "I'm not ready for that." She pulled back immediately. "I'm not ready. I'll know when I am. If I am." "It eats at you." And at him, when he saw her suffering like this.

"No, it doesn't drive my life. It just gets in the way of it sometimes.

Remembering her, if there's anything to remember, isn't going to bring me any peace, Roarke. To me, she's as dead as he is."

And that, Roarke thought as he watched Eve turn back to her machine, wasn't nearly dead enough. "You need some sleep."

"Not yet. I can do another hour."

"Fine." He walked to her and had her up and over his shoulder before she could blink. "Hey!"

"An hour should be just about right," he decided. "You rushed me earlier."

"We're not having s.e.x."

"Okay, I'll have s.e.x. You can just lie there." He rolled onto the bed with her.

There was something miraculous about the way his body fit to hers. But she wasn't going to pay any attention to that little miracle. "What part of no didn't you get?"

"You didn't say no." He lowered his head to nuzzle her cheek. "You said you weren't having s.e.x, which is entirely different. If you'd said no..." His fingers busily unb.u.t.toned her shirt. "I would, of course, respect that."

"Okay, listen up."

Before she could speak, his mouth was on hers, soft, seductive. And wonderfully sly. His hands were already sliding, slipping, searching over her.

She didn't quite choke back the moan.

"Fine." She gave up and sighed when his lips laid a hot trail down her throat.

"Be an animal." "Thank you, darling. I'd love to."

He took every bit of the hour, while the machines hummed away. He pleased her, and himself, knowing when her body went lax with release under his, she would tumble mindlessly into sleep.

And for a night, at least, there would be no more dreams.

It was dark in the room when she awoke, with just the lights from the console and screens flickering. Blinking, her brain still musty, she sat up and saw Roarke at the controls.

"What time is it?" She didn't remember she was naked until she swung her legs from the bed. "Just six. You have some matches here, Lieutenant.

They're on disc and hard copy."

"Did you sleep?" She started to search for her pants, and saw the robe neatly laid across the foot of the bed. The man never missed a d.a.m.n step. "Yes. I haven't been up long. I a.s.sume you're going straight in today?"

"Yeah. Team briefing at eight hundred."

"The report on Henson -- what there is of it -- is printed out." "Thanks." "I have a number of things to see to today, but you can reach me if you need to." He rose, looking dark and dangerous in the half light, the night's growth of beard shadowing his face, the black robe carelessly belted. "There are a couple of names on the match list I recognize."

She took the hard copy he offered. "I guess it was too much to expect otherwise."

"Paul Lamont rings the clearest bell. His father fought in the French Wars before the family immigrated here. Paul's father was very skilled and pa.s.sed considerable knowledge on to his son. Paul is a member of the security team for one of my businesses here in New York. Autotron. We make droids and various small electronics."

"You pals?"

"He works for me -- and we... developed a project or two several years ago."

"And it's not the kind of project a good cop needs to know about."

"Exactly. He's been with Autotron for more than six years now. We haven't had contact beyond that relationship for nearly that amount of time." "Uh-huh. And what are these skills his dear old dad pa.s.sed along to him?" "Paul's father was a saboteur. He specialized in explosives."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Peabody hadn't slept well. She dragged into work heavy-eyed and vaguely achy, as if she were coming down with some nasty little bug. She hadn't eaten, either. Though her appet.i.te was dependable -- sometimes too dependable -- she expected few could eat hearty after spending several hours tagging body parts.

That she could have lived with. That was the job, and she had learned how to channel all thoughts and energies into the job during the months she'd worked under Eve.

What she couldn't live with, and what spread a thin layer of cranky over fatigue, was the fact that a great deal of her thoughts -- and not pure ones -- and entirely too much of her energies had been centered on McNab during the long night.

She hadn't been able to talk to Zeke. Not about this sudden weird compulsion for McNab. McNab, for Christ's sake. And she hadn't wanted to talk about the bombing at The Plaza.