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“I’m all right. I’m all right.”
“You’re not, but you will be. Look at me.”
She couldn’t stop the shaking, but made herself look into his eyes. Anger, yes, some anger in there, and the kind of desperation she understood too well.
“I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’ll piss me off.” He grabbed the throw from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around her, rubbed her back, her arms while the cat bumped his head against her hip. “You’re cold.”
Then he wrapped his arms around her and rocked. “I swear, you stopped breathing for a moment. Just stopped. You’ll have a soother.”
“I—”
“Don’t argue about it, you’re having one. I’m having a bloody soother myself.”
She said nothing when he got out of bed, but sat, shivering under the cashmere throw, stroking the cat. They’d have tried to wake her, she thought, her husband and her cat, but she’d been in too deep.
Roarke lit the fire first to add more light and warmth to the room, then moved to the AutoChef.
“You need the soother,” he said more calmly. “You haven’t had a nightmare that . . . intense in some time.”
“Soothers all around.” She fought to make her voice sound normal. “Maybe the cat needs one.”
“He’s his own soother.” Roarke brought two glasses back to the bed, handed her one, gave the loyal Galahad a rub. “He’s fine now, though I’ll say he was nearly as shaken as I. Drink that now.”
She gulped some down, sighed. “It’s chocolate.”
“I know my cop.”
That brought the tears up, had her pressing her face to his shoulder. “I couldn’t get out of it. I knew what it was, but I couldn’t get out.”
“You’re safe now.” He kissed the top of her head, dug in for tenderness. “Drink the rest, darling. Drink it up, and tell me.”
She did what he asked, and when she was finished, when he’d set the empty glasses aside, he gathered her close.
“I know it’s not true, what he said—what my subconscious went into. But—”
“There’s no but in this. You were an innocent child defending her life against a monster. These are grown women who killed with calculation.”
Yes, yes, that was the logic. That was reason. But . . . “The motives align. If I’m right, I will smear his reputation.”
“If you’re right, his reputation is a lie. It’s truth you’re after, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. If I’m right . . . you’d come down on their side of it.”
He kissed her cheek, then the other before drawing her down so she could curl into him, find the warmth.
“We have different views on some matters, but as you’re fond of telling me, you’re the one with the badge. You’ll do your job, Lieutenant, as you must. And I’ll help you as I can to find the truth. After that, it’s not in my hands or yours, is it?”
“No.”
The cat curled against the small of her back, sandwiching her in the safe. Tears stung her eyes again, so she closed them. And as the soother did its work, she drifted back to sleep.
Holding her close, Roarke lay awake, listening to her breathe.
11
Eve’s communicator buzzed, a rude, insistent sound that woke her in the dark.
