The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [363]
He nodded coolly. “Then fight back, and get what you need.”
“I’ve got nothing. Goddamn it, Roarke, can’t you see? When they took my badge, they took everything I am.”
“No, Eve. They didn’t take what you are unless you let them. They only took your symbols. If you need them,” he continued, stepping to her, “pull yourself together, stop whining, and get them back.”
She jerked away from him. “Thanks for the support.” Her voice cracked like ice under a pick as she turned and walked out of the room.
Driven by temper, she stormed through the house, down to the gym. She stripped off the robe, dragged on a unisuit. Her blood blazing, she activated the combat droid and beat the shit out of it.
Upstairs, Roarke sipped brandy and grinned like a fool as he watched her on a monitor. He imagined she’d replaced the droid’s face with his. “Go ahead, darling,” he murmured. “Pound me into dust.” He winced a little when she jammed her knee hard into the droid’s crotch, felt a sympathetic twinge in his own balls.
“I guess I had that coming,” he decided and made a mental note to order a new combat droid. This one was toast.
It was good progress, he mused after she’d left the mangled droid on the mat, stripped off her sweat-soaked suit, and stomped into the pool house. He counted thirty strong, steady laps when Summerset hailed him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but a Detective Baxter is at the gate. He wishes to see Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Tell him she remains unavailable. No.” On impulse, Roarke shifted gears. He was more than a little tired of doing nothing himself. “Let him in, Summerset. I’ll see him. I have a few words for the NYPSD. Send him to my office.”
“I’ll be happy to.”
Baxter was doing his best not to gawk. His mood was glum, his nerves on edge, and he’d already dealt with the wave of reporters at the gate. Beating on the windows of an official vehicle, for Christ’s sake, he thought. Where was the respect and the good healthy fear for cops these days?
And now he found himself being led through a fucking palace by a stiff-assed butler type. The place was like something out of a video. One of his favorite pastimes had been to razz Eve about the unlimited credit well she’d fallen into with Roarke. Now he had all this new material and didn’t have the heart to use it.
He got another eyeful when he walked into Roarke’s office. The equipment alone was enough to make his eyes want to pop out of his head, and the setting, acres of treated glass, miles of glossy tiles, made him feel shabby in his off-the-rack suit and well-broken-in shoes.
Just as well, he decided. He felt pretty damn shabby all around.
“Detective.” Roarke remained seated behind the desk, the position of power. “Your identification?”
They’d met more than once, but Baxter simply nodded and took out his badge. Couldn’t blame the guy for being tight-assed under the circumstances, Baxter decided. “I need to interview Dallas regarding the Bowers homicide.”
“I believe you were informed yesterday that my wife is unavailable at this time.”
“Yeah, I got the message. Look, it’s got to get done. I’ve got a job to do here.”
“Yes, you have a job.” Not bothering to disguise the threat in his eyes, Roarke got to his feet. Every movement precise, like a wolf stalking prey. “Eve doesn’t, because your department is quick to turn on their own. How the hell can you stand here with that badge in your hand? You come into her home prepared to interrogate her? You son of a bitch, I ought to make you eat that fucking badge and send you back to Whitney on a pike.”
“You’ve got a right to be upset,” Baxter said evenly, “but I’ve got an investigation going, and she’s part of it.”
“Do I seem upset, Baxter?” His eyes glinted like a sword turned edge-up in the sun as he came around the desk. “Why don