Glory in Death - J. D. Robb [27]
“I’m well aware of that.”
“I don’t need your fancy food or your fancy gifts or your fancy words. I see the pattern, Roarke. Say I love you at regular intervals until she learns to respond. Like a well-trained pet.”
“Like a pet,” he repeated as his fury froze into ice. “I see I’m wrong. You are stupid. You really think this is about power and control? Have it your way. I’m tired of having you toss my feelings back in my face. My mistake for allowing it, but that can be rectified.”
“I never—”
“No, you never,” he interrupted coolly. “Never once risked your pride by saying those words back to me. You keep this place as your escape hatch rather than commit to staying with me. I let you draw the line, Eve, and now I’m moving it.” It wasn’t just temper pushing him now, nor was it just pain. It was the truth. “I want all,” he said flatly. “Or I want nothing.”
She wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t make her panic like a first-time rookie on a night run. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means sex isn’t enough.”
“It’s not just sex. You know—”
“No, I don’t. The choice is yours now—it always was. But now you’ll have to come to me.”
“Ultimatums just piss me off.”
“That’s a pity.” He gave her one long last look. “Good-bye, Eve.”
“You can’t just walk—”
“Oh yes.” And he didn’t look back. “I can.”
Her mouth dropped open when she heard the door slam. For a moment she simply stood, rigid, the sun glinting off the jewel around her neck. Then she began to vibrate. With fury, of course, she told herself and ripped the precious diamond off to toss it on the counter.
He thought she would go crawling after him, begging him to stay. Well, he could go on thinking that into the next millennium. Eve Dallas didn’t crawl, and she didn’t beg.
She closed her eyes against a pain more shocking than a laser strike. Who the hell is Eve Dallas? she wondered. And isn’t that the core of it all?
She blocked it out. What choice did she have? The job came first. Had to come first. If she wasn’t a good cop, she was nothing. She was as empty and as helpless as the child she had been, lying broken and traumatized in a dark alley in Dallas.
She could bury herself in work. The demands and pressures of it. When she was standing in Commander Whitney’s office, she was only a cop with murder on her hands.
“She had plenty of enemies, Commander.”
“Don’t we all.” His eyes were clear again, sharp. Grief could never outweigh responsibility.
“Feeney’s run a list of her convictions. We’re breaking them down, concentrating on the lifers first—family and known associates. Someone she put in a cage for the duration would have the strongest revenge ratio. Next down the line are the uncorrected deviants. UDs sometimes slip through the cracks. She put plenty away on mental, and some of them are bound to have crawled their way out.”
“That’s a lot of computer time, Dallas.”
It was a subtle warning about budgets, which she chose to ignore. “I appreciate you putting Feeney on this with me. I couldn’t get through it without him. Commander, these checks are SOP, but I don’t think this was an attack on the prosecutor.”
He sat back, inclined his head, waiting.
“I think it was personal. She was covering something. For herself, for somebody else. She zapped the ’link recording.”
“I read your report, Lieutenant. Are you telling me you believe Prosecuting Attorney Towers was involved in something illegal?”
“Are you asking me as my friend or as my commander?”
He bared his teeth before he could control himself. After a short internal struggle, he nodded. “Well put, Lieutenant. As your commander.”
“I don’t know if it was illegal. It’s my opinion at this stage of the investigation that there was something on that recording the victim wanted kept private. It was important enough to have her get dressed and go out again into the rain to meet someone. Whoever that was, was certain she would come alone and that she would leave no record