“You think I can’t handle myself? That I need some idiot IAB moron half-ass to knock me down and stick out his chest for a knife?”
“No.” The humor was coming back. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“If you’d stuck with the streets instead of getting fat and happy behind a stupid desk, you wouldn’t be lying here. And when you’re on your feet, I’m going to put you right back in the hospital.”
“That’ll be fun. Give me something to look forward to. Did you get him? They won’t tell me a damn thing in here.”
“No. No, I didn’t get him.”
“Shit.” He closed his eyes again. “That’s on me.”
“Oh, shut up.” She stalked to the tiny window, fisted her hands on her hips, while she tried to calm down.
In her place, Roarke moved to the side of the bed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
And that was all they needed to say on the subject.
“We got Ricker,” Eve continued, as her anger abated. “Took him down last night.”
“What? How?” Webster tried to sit up, couldn’t even lift his head. And swore with as much energy as he could muster.
“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in some other time. But we got him, solid, and have his lawyer on the hot seat for good measure, and a dozen of his men.”
She turned back, walked to the bed. “He’s going to stay in MD status by the looks of things, and we’re going to take his organization apart, piece by piece.”
“I can help. Do some of the data searches, run scans. Let me in on this. I’ll go crazy in here with nothing to do.”
“Stop, you’re breaking my heart.” Then she shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
“Come on, you know you’ll cave on it. You feel sorry for me.” He managed a grin. “And I should tell you, both of you, so there’s no baggage, I’m pretty much on the way to getting over you.”
“That really adds to my peace of mind, Webster.”
“It does a lot for mine. Only took getting sliced in half, more or less. Nothing like a good coma to give a guy the opportunity to put things in perspective.”
His eyes drooped, nearly shut before he fought them open again. “Man, the meds just knock you out.”
“So, get some sleep. Word gets out you’re coming around, you’ll have plenty of company. You’ll need all the rest you can manage.”
“Yeah, but wait.” He was losing it, struggling to hold out another minute. “I gotta ask you a question. Did you come in before?”
“Before what?”
“Come on, Dallas. Before now. Did you come in and talk to me?”
“Maybe I dropped in to see what an idiot looked like. Why?”
“ ’Cause I had this dream. Maybe a dream. You were standing over me. I was just floating and you were standing there, ragging my ass. Ever tell you how sexy you look when you’re ragging ass?”
“Jesus.”
“Sorry, a little re . . . residual lust. D’ya say you’d spit on my grave?”
“Yeah. I will, too, if you try to cash out again.”
He gave a weak chuckle. “Who’s the idiot? Not gonna have a grave. You gotta be rich or religious these days for that. Recycle and cremation, thatsa way to go. Return and burn. Sure nice to hear your voice though. Made me think I’d prob’ly get bored floating. Gotta go. Tired.”