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“Ah, well then.” He gave her the wine. “Did he tell you we also found a number of transmissions? To and from Price and Dwier. And three, so far, from Mayor Peachtree’s office ’link. The last coming in the afternoon of your visit to the Dukes house. Text only. It advises Dukes to take a little holiday with his family, and gives a suggestion for the address in Albany. It’s carefully worded, but under the circumstanc

es, damning enough.”

“I take Dukes and the mayor tomorrow.” She sat on the arm of a chair, but didn’t drink the wine. “I split up the interviews after the bust. Gave a push at suspects with various team members and combos. Everybody yelled lawyer, like it was their team cheer. I broke some pathetic housewife in under thirty minutes. Spilled her guts while her lawyer’s huffing and puffing about duress. Pleaded her down a couple levels to shut him up, and she rolled over like a puppy.”

“You stopped them. You shattered them.”

“I took in a judge, two other cops—a retired cop who’d put thirty years in. I took in mothers who were almost as panicked about notifying their child care provider as they were about spending the night in a cage. I took in a boy barely old enough to shave, and a woman who won’t see a hundred again. She spit on me.” Her voice quavered just a bit on that. “She spit on me when we were putting her in the wagon.”

Roarke stroked a hand over her hair, and when she turned her head, cradled her face against his side. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” she murmured. “I just don’t know what I’m sorry about. I’ve got to go to bed.” She eased away, stood. “I’ll look over the data you and Jamie extracted in the morning.”

“I’ll be along when I can. I have a meeting shortly.”

“A meeting? It’s almost three in the morning.”

“It’s in Tokyo. We’ll do a holoconference.”

She nodded, then set the untouched wine aside. “Were you supposed to be there? In Tokyo?”

“I can be where I want. And I want to be here.”

“I’ve cut into a lot of your time just lately.”

He rubbed a thumb over the shadows under her eyes. “You certainly have, and I expect to be properly recompensed.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “Now go to bed. I’ve work here.”

“I could come into midtown sometime, and . . . consult.”

“I’d like to know what I’ve done to deserve a threat like that.”

It helped to smile. “Or, you know, go shopping with you. Help you pick out a suit or something.”

“I felt that chill right down to the bone. Go away, Lieutenant.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“Mmm.” And as his holo unit signaled, he watched her go.

Chapter 22

She woke before dawn, and gauged the time by the quality of the dark. She calculated an hour before daybreak, and thought about trying to zone out again for the best part of that.

She’d slept like a woman in a coma, falling facedown on the bed after stripping down to the skin. She hadn’t heard Roarke come to bed. But at least she hadn’t dreamed.

She shifted to her side and made out the shape of him. It wasn’t often she woke before he did. Because of it she rarely had the opportunity to lay in the dark, in the silence of the house and listen to him sleep.

He slept like a cat, she thought. No, quieter than a cat. The light rumble of snoring she heard was from the other side of the bed where Galahad lay sprawled on his back like roadkill.

It was kind of nice, she decided, with everyone all tucked up safe and warm.

Too nice to waste the best part of the hour she had left for bed sleeping.

She crawled on top of Roarke, found his mouth just where she’d left it. And woke him with heat.

She felt his body throw off sleep. A fingersnap. Brace, assess, relax again.

“Work late?” she asked against his mouth.


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery