The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [40]
Her voice had that peppy, behave yourself tone used by child-care workers and novice parole officers.
“Isn’t it nice to have company? But it’s time for our nap.”
“Madam.” Summerset’s tone was barbed wire. “WE do not nap.”
“We do today,” she said, unfailingly pert. “A nice hour’s rest, then an hour of therapy.”
“Eve, this is PA Spence. She’ll be seeing to Summerset’s at-home care for the next several days. Ms. Spence, my wife, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Oh yes, a policewoman, how exciting.” She marched to Eve, grabbed her hand and pumped. The skin might have been soft, Eve thought, but the woman had the grip of a wrestler. “Don’t you worry about a thing, not a thing. Mr. Summerset’s in good hands.”
“Yeah, I bet. I guess we should clear out.”
“I am not going to be put to bed like a toddler. Or spoonfed, or clucked over by this—this person.” Summerset snarled out the words. “If I can’t be left in peace in my own quarters, then I’ll go somewhere I can be left in peace.”
“Now, Summerset.” Still on the arm of his chair, Mavis, stroked his head. “It’s just for a few days.”
“I’ve made my feelings on this matter abundantly clear.” Summerset folded his lips and stared holes in Roarke.
“As I have mine,” Roarke returned. “And as long as you’re living under my roof and in my employ, you’ll—”
“That, too, can be rectified.”
“Oh, you bet your ass.”
It wasn’t Roarke’s response—one that was music to Eve’s ears—that had her stepping forward. It was the tone, thick with Ireland that warned her he was about to snap.
“Okay, everybody out. You—” She pointed at Spence. “Take five.”
“I don’t believe—”
“Take five,” Eve repeated in a tone that made even seasoned officers tremble. “Now. Mavis, Leonardo, give me a minute here.”
“Sure.” Mavis leaned over, kissed Summerset’s cheek. “It’s going to be okay, honeybunch.”
“You, too.” She jerked a thumb at Roarke. “Out.”
Those blue eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said clear out. Go down to the gym and beat up a workout droid, or up to your office and buy Greenland. You’ll feel better. Take off,” she said and gave him a good, solid nudge.
“Fine.” He bit the word off. “I’ll just go and let the two of you snipe each other to death. At least that’ll put paid to the bickering around here.”
He strode out, slammed the door.
Summerset remained, arms folded, face set. And trapped in his chair. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Good.” Eve nodded, slurped a little more flavored ice. “Keep your mouth shut. Personally, I don’t care if you roll yourself out of here in that chair, and get mowed down by a maxibus, but he does. He’s spent the last, what is it?” She checked her wrist unit. “Oh, thirty hours or so worried sick about you, arranging things, re-arranging things so you’d be comfortable, and as happy as your demon soul allows you to be. You scared him, and he doesn’t scare easily.”
“I hardly think—”
“Shut up. You don’t want to be in the hospital. Okay, there we’ve got a point of agreement. You don’t want the PA—”
“She smiles too goddamn much.”
“You’ll take care of that in no time. I wouldn’t want her either, and I’d kick about it some. But if I came out of my own little bitch-world long enough to see how miserable it was making him, I’d put a plug in it. And that’s what you’re going to do, or I’ll put one in for you.”
“He needn’t worry about me.”
“Maybe not, but he will, and you know it. He loves you. And it rips him when someone he loves is hurt.”
Summerset opened his mouth, shut it again. Sighed. “You’re right. It burns my tongue to say it, but you are. I hate this.” He rapped his fist on the arm of the chair. “I don’t like being tended.”
“Can’t blame you for that. Got any alcohol in here? The drinking kind?”
“Perhaps.” Suspicion covered his face. “Why?”
“I figure Spence is going to poo-poo any alcoholic beverage,