Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Have they identified the substance?”

“I don’t know. I’m going up to check. I’m fine.” Irritable now, she dragged off her jacket, tossed it on the newel post.

“Make sure he knows.”

She started to snap she already had, but that seemed pointless. Instead she paused on her way up the stairs. “Do you think I’d come home if there was any chance, any, I carried something with me that could hurt him?”

“Absolutely not. Which is why, as it’s after nine, he worries.”

Damn it, damn it, of course he did. “I had to— Shit. Where is he?”

“Your office, of course. He knows you’re home. He set an alert.”

She jogged up. She’d followed the Marriage Rules, she thought. And still she felt as if she’d screwed up somehow.

He sat on the sofa in her office, the fire going low, the fat cat across his lap. He had a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other.

And yes, he looked at her in that way—but she saw relief bloom over it.

“And there she is,” he began, with that wonderful whisper of Ireland in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Even as he put the book aside and rose, she walked to him, wrapped around him, held hard. “I’m sorry.”

“For being late?” Now she heard surprise as she burrowed into him. “Come now, Lieutenant, that’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

“For not making a hundred percent sure you knew I was okay. For not making sure you weren’t worried I wasn’t.”

“Ah.” He brushed his lips over the top of her head, drew her back. “That’s part of the job as well. My part. There will be worry, darling Eve. But now…” He skimmed his thumb over the shallow dent in her chin, leaned in to kiss her—long and warm. “You’re home. So sit a moment with the cat, as Galahad’s had some concerns of his own. I’ll get you some wine.”

No bitching, no guilt trips, just wine and welcome. And a fat cat. So she’d sit for a minute, because he didn’t just bring trips to Italy, real coffee, superior sex, and all manner of things int

o her life.

He brought this, the balance.

She gave the cat some strokes, a belly scratch when he stirred himself to roll over. And took the wine.

“They cleared me right at the scene.”

“So you told me.” Still those wildly, gloriously blue eyes studied her face before he lifted her hand, kissed it. “Have they identified the toxin?”

“I need to check, but not since I checked an hour ago. The body wasn’t discovered until after sixteen hundred when the spouse got home from work. They wouldn’t have started the process until … probably an hour ago. Protocols to follow, and all that.”

“You won’t have eaten.”

“We were pretty busy.”

“I imagine. Let’s have a meal now, and you can tell me about all this.”

“‘Let’s’? Haven’t you had dinner already?”

“I haven’t, no.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “There was worry.”

“Wait.” She tightened her grip on his hands. “I’m going to promise you that I won’t lie or downplay something that happens, if I’m in trouble or something’s really wrong. I’ll be straight with you.”

“All right then.”