Celebrity in Death (In Death 34)

“Peabody. We need a conference room in the morning, with Whitney, Reo if we can get her, Mira—” She paused, gave Roarke a thoughtful look.

“I have several steps toward world financial domination scheduled in the morning, but—”

“No, who wants to get in the way of that? Can you just copy everything to Feeney? I’ll bring him in, with his favorite boy.”

“I’ll see to it.”

There was a breathy pause on the ’link, then a husky “Peabody,” with blocked video.

“Locate Violet Holmes,” Eve ordered.

“Huh? Who? Oh. Sir?”

Eve ignored the sound of rustling, a slurry male murmur, a quiet, groaning sigh. “Holmes—the boat. I want her location. Arrange a conference room, zero-eight-hundred. Be there. Bring McNab.”

“Okay. What … Sorry, we were just—”

“I don’t want to know what you were just. In fact, I’ll issue a thirty-day rip if you so much as hint what you were just. Holmes, conference room. Report to my office thirty minutes prior for an update.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work on the boat.”

“Thanks.”

“Go back to just,” Eve said and cut her off.

She sent priority requests to the others she wanted at the briefing, but through message only.

“In case they’re just?” Roarke wondered.

“I’m ignoring that, because I’m not picturing that. I need to put this in solid order. I’m close, but I want to fine-tune.”

“I’ll do the same so Feeney can easily intercept the pass.”

“Appreciate it. I guess I just owe you.”

He laughed, leaned down and kissed her head. “I’ll just have to collect another time. In the meanwhile, lay off the coffee.”

She waited until he’d gone into his office to roll her eyes. But she reached for the water instead.

18

WHEN HE FELT HER STIR BESIDE HIM, ROARKE rew her closer, rubbed her back.

“Ssh,” he said. “Ssh now. Hold on to me and sleep.”

She shivered a little, burrowed closer still.

He’d lit the fire before they’d slipped into bed. Now, only a few hours later, it simmered in the hearth and tossed its gold-washed red light into the room.

Quiet, warm, soothing. It’s what he’d wanted for her in sleep.

Yet she clung, anchored to him against the dreams.

He brushed his lips over her hair, wanting to will the tension in her body away, to erase those images and emotions that gave her so little peace.

With his eyes closed, he continued to stroke her back in light, rhythmic movements designed to lull.