“You know, this is funny, I see your mouth moving but all I hear is blah, blah, blah. Maybe your little trip damaged your vocal chords. I should ask Nurse Happy Time to check it out.”
He peeled his lips back in a grin. “You must have had a quiet day. There’s no blood on you for a change.”
“Day’s not over. I’d better go see if Roarke made it home on schedule, so he doesn’t get scolded.”
“He’s been back for some time.” And hadn’t come back to visit. “He’s in the private office.”
Her eyebrows went up, but she shrugged. “I’ve got work. Oh, and so you know, I left my vehicle out front to embarrass you if you have any visitors this evening.”
When she strolled out, Summerset sat back, satisfied, and listened to Chopin while he scratched Galahad between the ears.
Eve went directly up to the private office, used the palm plate, gave her name and code.
ACCESS DENIED.
Baffled, she stared at the locked door, the blinking red light above it. “Well, that’s bull,” she grumbled and gave the door a little kick before trying again.
ACCESS DENIED.
On an oath, she yanked out her pocket-link and called Roarke’s personal number. Her brows drew together when his voice slid out, but her screen remained blank.
Why the hell would he block video?
“Hey, what’s up? I’m standing outside the door, but my code’s not working.”
“Give me a minute.”
When the ’link clicked off, she stared at it. “Sure, ace, I’ll give you a minute.”
It took a full one, and a bit more, before she heard the security stand down. The light went green.
When she stepped in, he was seated behind the console. His sleeves were rolled up, a sign to her that he was working one or more of the keyboards manually.
But his face was as blank as the wall screens.
The door shut behind her, and locked.
“What’s going on?”
“I have work.”
“On the unregistered?”
Annoyance flickered over his face, and he picked up the heavy crystal glass at his elbow, watching her over the rim, coolly, dispassionately, as he drank. “Yes. On the unregistered.”
There was no warmth in his voice. No smile of greeting. “Is there a problem?”
He swirled the liquid in his glass and watched her the way she’d seen him watch an adversary he intended to dispose of. “Why should there be?”
Baffled, she walked behind the console, but the screens there were also dark and blank. She caught the sharp scents of whiskey and tobacco. The ripple of unease she felt increased. “Because I was denied access, because you’re sitting here drinking, because you closed down whatever you’re working on so I couldn’t see it.”
“You were denied access because I’m working on a private matter. I’m drinking because I wanted a drink.” He lifted the glass to his lips again, as if to prove it. “I closed down because what I’m doing has nothing to do with you. Does that clear it up for you, Lieutenant?”
There was a little punch of shock, dead center in her throat. Instinctively, she searched back through the day for something said or done to have caused his anger.
For it was anger, under all that cold wash. Hot and bubbling.
“If you’re pissed at me about something, I’d like to know what it is. That way when I kick your ass, we’ll both know why.”