Dark in Death (In Death 46)

nking it down. “Bennie’s got his hands all over me. Maybe I’ll let him do me later. Probably. Definitely want to get laid. Can’t get my breath—weird. I don’t feel right. Something’s wrong, it’s wrong. Bennie’s humping me, but I can’t breathe. I can’t—

Eve drew a line with her hand from where she sat to where Roarke stood. “Almost had to see her. Not unconscious like the first vic, not in the back like the second. She wanted to be seen. She wanted to see and be seen. And that matters, because she’s going to want that again.”

Heaving out a breath, Eve rose. “Did Loxie have that moment of awareness—seeing the woman with the blue dreads, thinking about the taste of that stupid martini? Did she have enough time for that fuckme moment?”

She shook her head again. “Anyway. Strongbow cut back her lag time. Cut it way back. That’s the broadcast with Nadine.”

“You won’t blame yourself for this.”

She turned back to Roarke. “Damn right I won’t. I laid all this out for Loxie Flash, just like the others. I warned her, showed her crime scene pictures. Hardly more than a goddamn hour before she walked in here, I talked to her again, warned her again. She had to do one fucking thing to stay alive. Stay out of the clubs. Give me a few days, and stay out of the clubs. Instead she got her slut on, walked in here. Bad enough, all that’s bad enough, but I told her the drink to avoid. She drinks it anyway. Drinks what’s in front of her because she was weak, stupid, and liked sticking her finger in authority’s eye. She’s a goddamn accessory to her own murder.”

Releasing frustration, Eve kicked the booth, twice. “And now she’s mine.”

“She’s yours,” he agreed. “And you’re tired. Let’s follow your own orders and go home, get some rack time.”

“Yeah. Nothing more to do here.” Looking at him, knowing he saw her, saw in her, she let the exhaustion come. “Damn it, Roarke, goddamn it. She just had to stay home.”

“Baby.” He moved to her, drew her in. “Some can’t. For some, being alone is a kind of death.”

“She made her choice. The last shit choice in a series of shit choices. Yeah, let’s go home. I need to notify her next of kin, though if Yola’s anything to go by, they already know.”

18

Eve surfaced out of dreams mildly annoyed with her subconscious. Couldn’t it give her a break once in a while, come up with some puffy white clouds for her to float on?

Why would she—or anybody—want to float around on puffy white clouds? One strong wind could knock you off, then you’d have to dream up a parachute. And for all you knew, you could end up splashing into some big dream ocean and get eaten by sharks.

Forget the damn, stupid clouds.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Eve opened her eyes, looked straight into Roarke’s.

So blue, she thought. If you splashed into an ocean that blue, there wouldn’t be any sharks because it would be perfect.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was sleeping until your brain woke up and started muttering.”

“Is there nothing left in the universe to buy or sell or build or invent? Have we reached critical mass?”

“Buying, selling, and so on can wait another hour.” As he spoke, his hand skimmed down her back, glided over her ass.

“Somebody told me last night that sex was life.” Since it was handy, she gave his really exceptional ass a pat. “I wish I had time to live,” she added, rolling away from him and out of bed.

Galahad leaped off behind her, beat her to the AutoChef. Pretty much on auto herself, she programmed his kibble, and two mugs of black coffee.

The first glorious sip fired up a few circuits as she walked over to hand Roarke the other mug.

“Thanks.”

She narrowed her sleepy eyes at him. “How can you look awake? How can anybody look awake before the coffee? It’s just not right.”

“I enjoy the awake more after the coffee.”

“Not the same thing. Do you think the subconscious gets bitchy because it knows it’s starting the day at the morgue?”

“It may factor. Bad dreams?”