Witness in Death (In Death 10)

“Not in this lifetime.”

She tried to turn away from him, but he slipped his arms under her.

“Sick.”

“Yes, baby, I know.” She felt fragile as glass when he lifted her, carried her to bed.

She began to shiver as he drew off her boots, covered her with a blanket. “I wanted to come home.”

He said nothing, only got a damp cloth and bathed her face. She was too pale, the shadows under her eyes too deep. When he held a glass to her lips, she turned her face away.

“No. No soothers. No tranqs.”

“It’s for the nausea. Here now.” He brushed her damp hair back and hoped he wouldn’t be forced to pour it down her throat. “That’s all. I promise.”

She drank because her stomach was quivering again, and her throat felt as if it had been raked by claws. “I didn’t know you were here.” She opened her eyes again, and the tears that burned in her chest flooded into her eyes. “Roarke. Oh God.”

She pressed herself against him. Burrowed. As her body shook, he tightened his arms around her. “Get rid of it,” he murmured. “Whatever it is, let it go.”

“I hate what I did. I hate myself for doing it.”

“Ssh. Whatever it was, you wouldn’t have had a choice.”

“I should have found one.” She turned her head so that her cheek rested against his shoulder, and with her eyes closed, she told him everything.

“I know what went through her.” She was better now, the worst of the sickness eased. “I know what she felt. And I saw myself in her when she looked at me.”

“Eve. No one knows better than you, or I, what vileness there is in the world. You did what you had to do.”

“I could’ve—”

“No.” He leaned back, cupped her face so that their eyes met. There wasn’t pity in his, which she would have hated. There wasn’t sympathy, which would have scraped her raw.

There was simply understanding.

“You couldn’t have. Not you. You had to know, didn’t you? You had to be sure if she’d known who he was to her. Now you do.”

“Yeah, now I do. No one’s that good an actress. She’ll see herself, again and again, together with him. Over and over.”

“Stop. You couldn’t have changed that, no matter how she found out.”

“Maybe not.” She closed her eyes again, sighed. “I swiped at Peabody.”