Rapture in Death

CHAPTER SIX

Eve studied the reports on the knock-on-doors from uniforms. Most of them were what she'd expected. Fitzhugh and Foxx were quiet, kept to themselves, yet friendly with their neighbors in the building. But she latched on to the statement of the droid on doorman duty that placed Foxx at leaving the building at twenty-two thirty and returning at twenty-three hundred hours.

"He didn't mention he went out, did he, Peabody? Not a word about a little jaunt in the evening on his own."

"No, he didn't mention it."

"Have we got the security discs logged yet from the lobby and elevator cameras?"

"I loaded them in. They're under Fitzhugh ten-fifty-one on your unit."

"Let's take a look." Eve booted her machine, leaned back in her chair.

Peabody scanned the monitor over her shoulder and resisted mentioning that both of them were now officially off duty. It was exciting, after all, working side by side with the top homicide detective at Cop Central. Dallas would sneer at that, Peabody thought, but it was true. She'd been following the career of Eve Dallas for years, and there was no one she admired or wished more to emulate.

The biggest shock of Peabody 's life was that somehow, over the course of a few short months, they had come to be friends as well.

"Stop." Eve sat up straight as the transmission froze. She studied the classy blonde entering the building at twenty-two fifteen. "Well, well, there's our Leanore, slipping by."

"She had the time fairly close. Ten fifteen."

"Yeah, she's on the mark." Eve ran her tongue around her teeth. "What do you think, Peabody? Business or pleasure?"

"Well, she's dressed for business." Peabody cocked her head and allowed a faint trail of envy to curl up her spine at Leanore's spiffy three-piece suit. "She's carrying a briefcase."

"A briefcase – and a bottle of wine. Enhance quadrant D, thirty to thirty-five. An expensive bottle of wine," Eve murmured when the screen popped and displayed the label clearly. "Roarke's got some of that little number in the wine cellar. I think it goes for about two hundred."

"A bottle? Wow."

"A glass," Eve corrected, amused when Peabody goggled. "Something doesn't fit. Resume normal size and speed, shift to elevator camera. Hmm. Yeah, yeah, she's primping," Eve murmured, watching as Leanore took a gold compact out of her embossed briefcase, powdered her nose, freshened her lipstick as the elevator climbed. "And lookie there, just flipped open the top three buttons of her blouse."

"Getting ready for a man," Peabody said, and shrugged when Eve slanted a look at her. "I'd guess."

"I'd guess, too." Together, they watched Leanore stride down the foyer on the thirty-eighth floor and buzz herself into Fitzhugh's apartment. Eve increased the time delay until Foxx strode out fifteen minutes later. "Doesn't look happy, does he?"

"No." Peabody narrowed her eyes. "I'd say he looks ticked off." She lifted her brows when Foxx kicked bad temperedly at the elevator door. "Very ticked off."

They waited for the drama to resume. Leanore left twenty-two minutes later, color high on her cheeks, eyes glittering. She jabbed a finger at the elevator, hitched her briefcase on her shoulder. A short time after, Foxx returned carrying a small parcel.

"She didn't stay twenty or thirty minutes, but more than forty-five. What went on inside that apartment that night?" Eve wondered. "And just what did Foxx bring back with him? Contact the law offices. I want Leanore in here for questioning. I've got Foxx at nine-thirty. Get her in here at the same time. We'll team play them."

"You want me to interrogate?"

Eve disengaged her machine, rolled her shoulders. "It's a good place to start. We'll meet here at eight-thirty. No, come by my home office at eight. That'll give us more time." She glanced at her 'link as it beeped, considered ignoring it, then gave in.

" Dallas."

"Hey!" Mavis's bright face filled the screen. "I was hoping I'd catch you before you left. How's it going?"

"Well enough. I'm just about to log out. What's up?"

"Good timing. Great timing. Mag. Listen, I'm at Jess's studio. We're going to do a session. Leonardo's here. We're going to make it a party, so come on by."

"Hey, listen, Mavis, I've put in a full day. I just want to – "

"Come on." There were nerves as well as enthusiasm. "We're going to get food in, and Jess's got the most rocking brew here. It'll debrain you in seconds. He thinks if we can lay something decent down tonight, we could run with it. I'd really like you around. You know, moral support shit. Can't you just stop by for a while?"

"I guess I could." Damn it. No backbone. "I'll let Roarke know I'll be late. But I can't stay."

"Hey, I gave Roarke a buzz already."

"You – what?"

"I 'linked him just a bit ago. Hey, you know, Dallas, I've never been by that meg-cool office of his. He had like the UN or something in there, all these off country guys. Wild. Anyway, they put me through to the inner sanctum because I was a pal of yours, and I talked to him. So," Mavis chirped on over Eve's heaved sigh, "I told him what was up and coming, and he said he'd stop around after the meeting or summit or whatever he was into."

"Looks like it's all settled." Eve watched her fantasy involving a whirlpool, a glass of wine, and a fat slab of steak go up in smoke.

"Too tops. Hey, is that Peabody? Hey, Peabody, you come, too. We'll party. See you soon, right?"

"Mavis." Eve caught her seconds before she disengaged. "Where the hell are you?"

"Oh, didn't I say? The studio's at Eight Avenue B, street level. Just beat on the door. Somebody'll let you in. Gotta go," she shouted as something that might have been music boomed. "They're tuning up. Catch ya."

Eve blew out a breath, scooped her hair out of her eyes, and glanced over her shoulder. "Well, Peabody, want to go to a recording session, get your ears fried, eat bad food, and get drunk on bad brew?"

Peabody didn't have to think twice. "As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, I'd love to."

It took a lot of banging on a gray steel door that looked as though it had been on the wrong end of a battering ram somewhere along the line. The rain from that morning had turned into steam that smelled unpleasantly of street oil and the recycling units that never seemed to be in full repair in that part of town.

With more resignation than energy, Eve watched two chemi-heads make deals under the dirty light of a street-lamp. Neither of them so much as blinked at Peabody 's uniform. Eve turned when one of the powder junkies took a hit less than five feet away.

"Damn it, that's just too arrogant. Bust him."

Resigned, Peabody headed over. The chemi-head focused, swore and, swallowing the paper his powder had been cupped in, swung around to run. He skidded on the wet pavement and banged face first into the lamppost. By the time Peabody reached him, he was flat on his back and bleeding profusely from the nose.

"He's out cold," she called to Eve.

"Idiot. Call it in. Get a cruiser over here to haul him into the tank. You want the collar?"

Peabody considered, then shook her head. "Not worth it. The beat cop can take it." She pulled out her communicator, gave the location as she walked back to Eve. "The dealer's still across the street," she commented. "He's got air blades, but I could try to chase him down."

"I sense a lack of enthusiasm." Eve narrowed her eyes, scanned the dealer hulking across the street, air blades steaming. "Hey, asshole," she called out. "You see this uniform here?" She jerked a thumb at Peabody. "Take your business someplace else, or I'll tell her to bump her weapon up to level three and watch you piss your pants."

"Cunt," he shouted back and whizzed off on his blades.

"You've got a real way with community relations, Dallas."

"Yeah, it's a gift." Eve turned back, prepared to beat on the door again, and found herself facing a female of massive proportions. She was easily six five, with shoulders wide as a highway. They rose out of a sleeveless leather vest and rippled with muscles and tattoos. Beneath, she wore a unisuit, snug as skin and the color of a healing bruise. She sported a copper nose ring and close-cropped hair fashioned into tight, glossy black curls.

"Fucking drug pushers," she said in a voice like a cannon boom. "Stink up the neighborhood. You Mavis's cop?"

"That's right, and I brought my cop with me."

The woman sized Peabody up out of milky blue eyes. "Solid. Mavis says you're right. I'm Big Mary."

Eve angled her head. "Yes, you are."

It took about ten seconds, then Big Mary's moon-sized face creased in a knife-edged grin. "Come on in. Jess is just heating up." By way of welcome, she took Eve's arm and lifted her up and into the short hallway. "Come on, Dallas 's cop."

" Peabody." With a cautious glance, Peabody kept warily out of Big Mary's reach.

"Pea body. Yeah, you ain't much bigger than a pea." Roaring at her own joke, Big Mary carted Eve into a padded elevator, waited for the door to close. They were cocooned together, tight as fish in a pan as Mary directed the unit to take them up one level. "Jess, he says to take you up to control. You got money?"

It was hard to maintain dignity of any kind when Eve's nose was pressed in Mary's armpit. "What for?"

"We got food coming. You gotta plunk in your share for the eats."

"All right. Is Roarke here yet?"

"Ain't seen no Roarke. Mavis says you can't miss him 'cause he is fine and prime."

The padded door opened, and Eve let out the breath she'd been holding. Even as she sucked in air, her ears were assaulted. Mavis's high, wild voice was screeching to the accompaniment of blistering noise.

"She's got a groove going."

Only deep affection for Mavis prevented Eve from leaping back into the soundproofing. "Apparently."

"I'll get your drinks. Jess, he brought the brew."

Mary hulked off, leaving Eve and Peabody in a glass-walled control booth that curved in a semicircle a half level above a studio where Mavis was singing her heart and lungs out. With a grin, Eve moved closer to the glass, the better to see.

Mavis had scooped up her hair so that it spewed in a purple fountain out of a multicolored band. She was wearing modified overalls, the black leather straps running up the center of her bare breasts. The rest of the material was a shimmering kaleidoscope that started at the midriff and ended barely south of the crotch. She danced to the beat on a fashionable pair of slides that left the feet bare and propped them onto four-inch stilts.

Eve had no doubt that Mavis's lover had designed the costume for her. She spotted Leonardo in a corner of the studio, glowing like a sunbeam at Mavis and wearing a body-skimming jumpsuit that made him look like an elegant grizzly.

"What a pair," she murmured and hooked her thumbs in the back pockets of her battered jeans. She turned her head to speak to Peabody, but noted her companion's attention was riveted to the left, and the look on Peabody 's face, Eve noted with some curiosity, managed to combine shock, admiration, and lust.

Following Peabody 's distracted gaze, Eve had her first view of Jess Barrow. He was beautiful. A painting in motion with a long, shining mane of hair the color of polished oak. His eyes were nearly silver, thickly lashed, intensely focused, as he worked the controls of an elaborate console. His complexion was flawless, tanned to bronze set off by rounded cheekbones and a strong chin. His mouth was full and firm, and his hands, as they flew over the controls, were as finely sculptured as marble.

"Roll up your tongue, Peabody," Eve suggested, "before you step on it."

"God. Holy God. He's better in person. Don't you just want to bite him?"

"Not particularly, but you go ahead."

Catching herself, Peabody flushed to the roots of her hair. She shifted on her sturdy legs. This was, she reminded herself, her superior. "I admire his talent."

" Peabody, you're admiring his chest. It's a pretty good one, so I can't hold it against you."

"I wish he would," she murmured, then cleared her throat as Big Mary stomped back with two dark brown bottles. "Jess gets this brew from his family down South. It's fine."

Since it was also unmarked and unlabeled, Eve prepared to sacrifice a few layers of stomach lining. She was pleasantly surprised when the liquid slid mellowly down her throat. "It is fine. Thanks."

"You add to the kitty, you can have more. I'm supposed to go down to wait for Roarke. I hear he's got money to roll in. How come you're not wearing some flash, you linked up with a rich man?"

Eve decided not to mention the baby-fist-sized diamond resting between her breasts under her shirt. "My underwear's solid gold. It chafes some, but it makes me feel secure."

After another brief processing delay, Mary hooted with laughter, slapped Eve on the back hard enough to bop her head into the glass, then headed off in her rock-breaking stride.

"We ought to sign her up," Eve muttered. "She wouldn't need a weapon or body armor."

The music built to an ear-scorching crescendo, then cut off as if severed with a knife. Below, Mavis let out a squeal and launched herself into Leonardo's open arms.

"That was a nice take, sugar." Jess's voice flowed out like top cream and drifted lazily with a Southern drawl. "You take ten and rest that golden throat for me."

Mavis's idea of resting her throat was to let out another scream, then wave desperately at Eve. " Dallas, you're here. Wasn't that mag? I'm coming up, don't go anywhere." She scrambled through a door on her trendy stilts.

"So this is Dallas." Jess pushed away from his console. His body was trim and showed off to advantage in jeans as battered as Eve's and a simple cotton shirt that would retail for a beat cop's monthly paycheck. He wore a diamond stud in his ear that glinted as he crossed the booth and a braided gold chain around his wrist that slid fluidly as he held out one of those beautiful hands. "Mavis is brimming over with stories about her cop."

"Mavis brims over habitually. It's part of her charm."

"That it is. I'm Jess, and I'm delighted to meet you at last." With his hand still cupped over Eve's, he turned that slow, heart-thudding smile onto Peabody. "And it seems we have two cops for the price of one."

"I – I'm a huge fan," Peabody managed and fought against the nervous stutter. "I have all of your discs, audio and video. I've seen you in concert."

"Music buffs are always welcome." He released Eve's hand to take hers. "Why don't I show you my favorite toy?" he suggested, leading her toward the console. Before Eve could follow, Mavis burst in.

"What did you think? Did you like it? I wrote it. Jess orchestrated it, but I wrote it. He thinks it could hit."

"I'm really proud of you. You sounded great." Eve returned Mavis's enthusiastic embrace and grinned at Leonardo over her shoulder. "How does it feel to be hooked up with a rising music legend?"

"She's wonderful." He leaned in to give Eve a one-armed squeeze. "You look terrific. I noticed on some news clips that you wore a number of my designs. I'm grateful."

"I'm grateful," Eve said and meant it. Leonardo was a talented and emerging genius of clothing design. "I didn't look like Roarke's rag-picking cousin."

"You always look like yourself," Leonardo corrected, but he narrowed his eyes and flipped his fingers through her untidy hair. "You need some work here. If you don't have it styled every few weeks, it loses shape."

"I was going to trim it up some, I just – "

"No, no." He shook his head solemnly, but his eyes twinkled at her. "The days of you hacking at it yourself are over. You call Trina, have her do you."

"We'll have to drag her again." Mavis grinned at everything. "She'll keep making excuses and start clipping at it with kitchen shears when it gets in her eyes." She giggled when Leonardo shuddered. "We'll get Roarke to hound her."

"I'd be delighted to." He stepped out of the elevator, walked straight to Eve and, framing her face in his hands, kissed her. "What am I hounding you about?"

"Nothing. Have a drink." She passed him her bottle.

Instead of drinking, he kissed Mavis in greeting. "I appreciate the invitation. This is quite a setup."

"Isn't it mag? The sound system's ace of the line, and Jess works all kinds of magic with the console. He's got like six million instruments programmed in. He can play them all, too. He can do anything. The night he came into the D and D changed my life. It was like a miracle."

"Mavis, you're the miracle." Smoothly, Jess led Peabody back toward the group. She was flushed and glassy-eyed. Eve could see the pulse in her throat pounding to its own rhythm.

"Down, girl," she muttered, but Peabody only rolled her eyes.

"You met Dallas and Peabody, right? And this is Roarke." Mavis bounced on her stilts. "My closest friends."

"It's a genuine pleasure." Jess offered one of his finely boned hands to Roarke. "I admire your success in the business world and your taste in women."

"Thank you. I tend to be careful with both." Roarke scanned the area, inclined his head. "Your studio's impressive."

"I love showing it off. It's been in the planning stages for some time. Mavis is actually the first artist to use it, other than myself. Mary's going to order food. Why don't I show you my prize creation before I put Mavis back to work?"

He led the way back to the console, sat at it like a captain at the helm. "The instruments are programmed in, of course. I can call up any number of combinations and vary pitch and speed. It's accessed for voice command, but I rarely use that. Distracts me from the music."

He slid controls and had a simple backbeat playing. "Recorded vocals." He tapped his fingers over buttons and Mavis's voice punched out, surprisingly gritty and rich. A monitor displayed the sounds with washing of colors and shapes. "I use that for computer analysis. Musicologists" – he flashed a charming, self-deprecating smile – "we can't help ourselves. But that's another story."

"She sounds good," Eve commented, pleased.

"And she'll sound better. Overdubbing." Mavis's voice split, layered over itself in close harmony. "Layers and fill." Jess's hands danced over the controls, drawing out guitars, brass, the jingle of a tambourine, the searing wail of a sax. "Cool it down." Everything slowed, mellowed. "Heat it up." Went into double time, blasted.

"That's all very basic, as is having her duet with recording artists of the past. You'll have to hear her version of 'Hard Day's Night' with the Beatles. I can also code in any sound." With a smile flirting around his mouth, he spun a dial, and skimmed his fingers over the keys. Eve's voice whispered out.

"Down, girl." The words melded into Mavis's vocal, repeating, echoing, drifting.

"How did you do that?" Eve demanded.

"I'm miked," he explained, "and hooked into the console. Now that I have your voice on program, I can have your voice replace Mavis's." He skimmed the controls again, and Eve winced when she heard herself singing.

"Don't do that," she ordered, and laughing, Jess switched it back.

"Sorry, I can't resist playing. Want to hear yourself croon, Peabody?"

"No." Then she gnawed her lip. "Well, maybe."

"Let's see, something smoky, understated, and classic." He worked for a moment, then sat back. Peabody 's eyes rounded when she heard herself quietly torching through "I've Got You Under My Skin."

"Is that one of your songs?" she asked. "I don't recognize it."

Jess chuckled. "No, it's before my time. You've got a strong voice, Officer Peabody. Good breath control. Want to quit your day job and join the party?"

She flushed and shook her head. Jess cut out the vocals, tuned the console to a bluesy instrumental. "I worked with an engineer who designed some autotronics for Disney-Universe. It took nearly three years to complete this." He patted the console like a well-loved child. "Now that I have the prototype and a working unit, I'm hoping to manufacture more. She works on remote, too. I can be anywhere and link up, run the board. I got specs on a smaller, portable unit, and I've been working on a mood enhancer."

He seemed to catch himself, shook his head. "I get carried away. My agent's starting to complain that I'm spending more time working on electronics than recording."

"Food's here!" Big Mary bellowed.

"Well, then." Jess smiled, scanned his audience. "Let's dig in. You've got to keep your energy level up, Mavis."

"I'm starving." She grabbed Leonardo's hand and headed for the door. Below, Mary was carting bags and boxes into the studio.

"Go help yourselves," Jess told them. "I've got a little fiddling to do. I'll be right along."

"What do you think?" Eve murmured to Roarke as they headed down, trailed by Peabody.

"I think he's looking for an investor."

Eve sighed, nodded. "Yeah, that was my take. I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem. He's got an interesting product."

"I had Peabody run a make on him. Nothing's come up. But I don't like to think of him using you – or Mavis."

"That's yet to be seen." He turned her into his arms as they stepped into the studio, ran his hands over her hips. "I missed you. I miss spending large quantities of time with you."

She felt the heat kindle between her thighs, hotter, lustier than the moment called for. Her breasts tingled with it. "I missed you, too. Why don't we figure out how to cut the evening short, go home, and fuck like rabbits?"

He was hard as iron. As he leaned down to nip at her ear, he found himself struggling not to tug at her clothes. "Good thought. Christ, I want you."

The hell with where they were, Roarke thought and dragged her head back by the hair to plunder her mouth.

At the console, at the controls, Jess watched them and smiled. Another few minutes, he mused, and they could very well be on the floor, mindlessly mating. Better not. With deft fingers, he skimmed buttons, changed the program. More than satisfied, he rose and started downstairs.

Two hours later, driving home through the dark streets that ran with colors from flashing billboards, Eve pushed her cruiser past the limits of the law. Need was a low, throbbing beat between her thighs, an itch desperate to be scratched.

"You're breaking the law, Lieutenant," Roarke said mildly. He was rock hard again, like a teenager cruising on hormones.

The woman who prided herself on never abusing her badge muttered, "Bending it."

Roarke reached over, cupped her breast. "Bend it more."

"Oh Jesus." She could already imagine what he'd feel like inside her, so she punched the accelerator and shot like a bullet down Park.

A glide-cart operator flipped up her middle finger as Eve screamed around a curb and headed east. Cursing lightly, Eve switched on her duty light, popped up the red and blue globe, and had it flashing.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I never do this."

Roarke slid his hand down to her thigh. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

She gave a hoarse laugh, swallowed hard. "Don't tell me, for God's sake. I'll kill us."

Her hands were glued to the wheel and trembling, her body vibrating like a string already plucked. Her breath was already hitching. Clouds slipped past the moon and freed its light.

"Hit the remote for the gate," she panted. "Hit the remote. I'm not slowing down."

He coded it quickly. The iron gate eased majestically open, and she burst through with inches to spare. "Excellent job. Stop the car."

"Just a minute, just a minute." She rocketed up the drive, flying past the gorgeous trees and musical fountains.

"Stop the car," he demanded again and pressed his hand to her crotch.

She came instantly, violently, barely managing to keep from steering into an oak. Gasping for air, she pulled the vehicle to a stop, fishtailing and ending in a drunken diagonal across the drive.

She flew at him.

They tore at clothes, fighting to find each other in the narrow confines of the car. She bit his shoulder, yanked his trousers open. He was cursing, she was laughing, when he dragged her out of the car. They fell on the grass in a tangle of limbs and twisted clothing.

"Hurry up, hurry up." It was all she could manage through the unbearable pressure. His mouth was on her breast through her torn shirt, teeth scraping. She pulled at his trousers, dug her fingers into his hips.

His breathing was fast, rough, the raw need clawing through him as urgently as her nails clawed at his back. He could feel his blood roaring, a tidal wave through his veins. His hands bruised her as he rocked her legs back, drove deep inside her.

She screamed, a wild, savage sound of pleasure, her nails raking his back, her teeth fixing on his shoulder. She could feel him pulsing inside her, filling her with each desperate thrust. The punch of the orgasm was painful and did nothing to lessen the monstrous need.

She was wet, hot, her muscles vising over him like teeth with each pump of hips. He couldn't stop, couldn't think, and plunged again and again like a stud covering a mare in heat. He couldn't see her through the red haze that clouded his vision, he could only feel her, racing with him, pistoning her hips. Her voice buzzed in his ears, all whimpers and moans and gasps.

Each sound beat in his blood like a primal chant.

It shattered without warning, beyond his control. His body simply peaked like an engine on maximum power, battered into hers, then erupted. The hot wave of release swamped him, swallowed him, drowned him. It was the only time since he'd first touched her that he didn't know if she had followed him over the edge.

He collapsed, rolled weakly away to try to find air for his overtaxed lungs. In the glowing moonlight, they sprawled on the grass, sweaty, half-dressed, shuddering, like the lone survivors of a particularly vicious war.

With a groan, she rolled over on her stomach, let the grass cool her burning cheeks. "Christ, what was that?"

"Under other circumstances, I'd call it sex. But…" He managed to open his eyes. "I don't have a word for it."

"Did I bite you?"

A few aches were making themselves known as his body recovered. He twisted his head, glanced at his shoulder, and saw the imprint of her teeth. "Someone did. I think it was probably you."

He watched a star fall, shooting silver from sky to earth. It had been much like that, he thought, like plunging helplessly to oblivion. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it." Her head was still spinning. "We're on the lawn," she said slowly. "Our clothes are torn. I'm pretty sure I have the imprint of your fingers dented into my butt."

"I did my best," he murmured.

She snickered first, then chuckled, then broke into fits of giddy, hiccupping laughter. "Jesus, Roarke, Jesus Christ, look at us."

"In a minute. I think I'm still partially blind." But he was grinning as he shifted. She was still shaking with laughter. Her hair stuck up at odd angles, her eyes were glassy, and there were grass stains as well as bruises on her pretty ass. "You don't look much like a cop, Lieutenant."

She rolled to sit up as he had, angled her head. "You don't look much like a rich guy, Roarke." She tugged on his sleeve – it was all that was left of his shirt. "But it's an interesting look. How are you going to explain that to Summerset?"

"I'll simply tell him my wife is an animal."

She snorted. "He's already decided that for himself." Blowing out a breath, she looked toward the house. Lights glimmered on the lower level to welcome them home. "How are we going to get into the house?"

"Well…" He found what was left of her shirt, tied it around her breasts, and made her giggle helplessly. They managed to tug on ruined slacks, then sat looking at each other. "I can't carry you to the car," he told her. "I was hoping you'd carry me."

"We have to get up first."

"Okay."

Neither of them moved. The laughter started again, continued as they grabbed onto each other like drunks and staggered to their feet. "Leave the car," he decided.

"Uh-huh." They limped off, weaving. "Clothes? Shoes?"

"Leave them, too."

"Good plan."

Snickering like children breaking curfew, they stumbled up the steps, shushing each other as they fell through the door.

"Roarke!" Shocked tones, rushing feet.

"I knew it," Eve muttered dourly. "I just knew it."

Summerset rushed out of the shadows, his normally set face alive with shock and worry. He saw tattered clothes, bruised skin, wild eyes. "Was there an accident?"

Roarke straightened up, kept his arm around Eve's shoulders as much for balance as support. "No. It was on purpose. Go to bed, Summerset."

Eve glanced over her shoulder as she and Roarke helped each other up the stairs. Summerset stood at the base, gaping. The picture pleased her so much, she snickered all the way to the bedroom.

They fell into bed, exactly as they were, and slept like babies.