Indulgence in Death (In Death 31)

He patted her thigh. “It’s a long way to travel for a pint. Added to it, you’ve thrilled my boy to pieces.”

“Sorry?”

“My Sean, who was just here interrogating you.”

“Oh. It’s hard to figure who’s whose.”

“Sure it is. Since we visited you last year, he’s given up his dream of being a space pirate in favor of being a cop and blasting bad guys for his living.”

“He mentioned it.”

“Truth be known he’s wishing desperately for a murder while you’re about. Something gruesome and mysterious.”

“Get a lot of those around here?”

He sat back, took a contemplative sip of beer. “The last I recall was when old Mrs. O’Riley broke her husband’s head with a skillet when he, once again, came home pissed and smelling of another woman’s perfume. I suppose it was gruesome enough, but not altogether mysterious. That would be about a dozen years back.”

“Not much action in the area for a murder cop.”

“Sadly for Sean, no. He likes to follow your cases, searching out tidbits on his computer. This last? The hologames murder gave him endless thrills.”

“Oh.” She glanced over to where Roarke stood with Sinead, her arm around his waist. And thought of the blade slicing into his side.

“We’ve a parental lock on, so he can’t get the juicier details.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good thing.”

“How bad was he hurt, my cousin? The media didn’t have much on that—which is, I suppose, how he wanted it.”

His blood, warm, sliding through her shaking fingers. “Bad enough.”

Seamus nodded, lips pursed as he studied Roarke. “He’s not at all his father’s son, is he then?”

“Not where it counts.”

Irish picnics, Eve discovered, went on for hours, as did the Irish summer day, and included music, dancing, and general carryings-on till well after the stars winked on.

“We’ve kept you up late.” Sinead walked them upstairs, this time wrapping an arm around Eve’s waist.

Eve never knew exactly what to do when people looped their arms around her—unless it was combat, or Roarke.

“After all your travels, too. Barely giving you time to unpack, and none at all to settle in.”

“It was a nice party.”

“It was, it was, yes. And now my Seamus talked Roarke into going out in the field in the morning.” She gave Eve a little squeeze. At the signal, Eve glanced back at Roarke.

“Seriously. In the field, like farm field?” Eve said.

“I’ll enjoy it. I’ve never driven a tractor.”

“I hope you say the same when we’re dragging you out of bed at half-six.”

“He hardly sleeps anyway,” Eve commented. “He’s like a droid.”

Sinead laughed, opened the door to their bedroom. “Well, I hope you’ll be comfortable for the time you have.” She looked around the room with its simple furniture, its soft colors, and white lace at the windows under the slant of the ceiling.

Flowers, a charm of colors and shapes, stood in a squat pot on the dresser.