The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [446]
“Units are on the way, Dallas.”
“Stand at the gate,” Eve ordered. “Secure it if necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” With some sympathy, Peabody watched as Eve walked over to deal with her husband.
“Look, Roarke, I know you’re pissed off. I don’t blame you. Somebody blows up one of your buildings, you’ve got a right to be pissed.”
“Damn right I do.” He spun back to her, fury ripe in his eyes. The fact that she’d nearly backed up a step in the face of it both mortified and infuriated her. She compensated by leaning forward until her boots bumped his shoes.
“This is a goddamn crime scene, and I don’t have the time or inclination to stand around and pat you on the head because one of your six million buildings got blown to hell. Now, I’m sorry about it, and I understand you feel ticked off and violated, but don’t take it out on me.”
He gripped her arms and hauled her up to her toes in a move guaranteed to make her snarl and spit. If his property hadn’t been heaved out in a half-block pile of stinking ruin, she might have decked him.
“Do you think that’s the problem?” he demanded. “Do you think the fucking warehouse is the problem?”
She struggled to think through her own temper. “Yes.”
He hauled her up another inch. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot? I’m an idiot? You’re a moron if you think I’m going to stand here making clucky noises to your ego while I’ve got somebody blowing up buildings on my watch. Now, get your hands off before I take you down.”
“How close were you to going in?”
“That’s not—” She broke off, deflating as it hit her. It wasn’t the building that put that wicked light in his eyes. It was her. “Not that close.” She said it quietly as she unclenched her fists. “Not that close, Roarke. I didn’t like the setup. I’d just ordered Peabody to call it in, send for a couple of backup units. I know how to handle myself.”
“Yeah.” He took a hand off her arm to brush his fingertips over her filthy cheek. “It shows.” Then he released her completely, stepped back. “Have that leg tended to. I’ll meet you at your office.”
When he started to walk away, she jammed her hands in her pockets, pulled them out. Rolled her eyes. Damn it, she did know how to handle herself. She just didn’t always know how to handle him. “Roarke.”
He stopped, glanced back. And nearly smiled when he watched the obvious struggle between duty and heart on her face. Looking over to make certain Peabody had her back discreetly turned, she crossed to him, lifted a hand to his cheek.
“Sorry. I was a little pissed off, myself. Having a building blow up in my face does that to me.” When she heard the approaching sirens, she dropped her hands, frowned. “No kissing in front of the uniforms.”
Now he did smile. “Darling, no kissing until you wash your face. I’ll meet you at your office,” he repeated and walked away.
“Give it a couple of hours,” she called out. “I’ll be tied up here at least that long.”
“Fine.” He stopped by her car, angling his head as he studied it. “Actually, this suits you better now.”
“Bite me,” she said with a laugh, then put on her official face for the bomb squad.
When she returned to Cop Central, Eve hit the showers and washed off the stink and soot. She remembered the gash in her leg when the hot water stung. Setting her teeth, she cleaned the wound herself, dug out a first-aid kit, and went to work on it. She figured she’d watched the med-techs poke around her body often enough to handle a few cuts.
Satisfied, she rooted through her locks for her spare set of clothes and made herself a memo to bring more in. Those she’d been wearing went straight into the recycler as a dead loss.
She found Roarke in her office, having a cozy chat with Nadine Furst from Channel 75.
“Scram, Nadine.”
“Come on, Dallas, a cop nearly gets blown up when her husband’s building is destroyed by person or persons unknown, it’s news.” She offered Eve one of her pretty cat smiles, but there was concern in her eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, and I wasn’t nearly blown up. I was yards away from the building at the time of the