25. Creation In Death by J.D. Robb

Author:J.D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-12-26T08:00:00+00:00

“Does it help you if I’m not okay with it? Obviously not. So I’ll deal with it. And I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

“Hey, hey.”

“I’m not meaning the garden variety of bumps, bruises, and occasional bites,” he added with a glance at her leg, “you seem to incur on an alarmingly regular basis.”

“I hold my own,” she snapped back, oddly insulted. “And you’ve taken some hits yourself, pal.”

Her eyes narrowed when he held up a finger. “Oh, I really hate when you do that.”

“Pity. If he manages to get past your guard, past me, and all the rest, and causes you real harm, I’ll do him with my own hands and in my own way. You’ll have to be okay with that, as that’s as much who and what I am and it’s who and what you are that put your own face up there.”

“He won’t get past my guard.”

“Then we won’t have a problem, will we? What’s for dinner?”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t find any room to maneuver. So she shrugged and stalked off toward the kitchen. “I want carbs.”

The man was exasperating. One minute he was kissing her hand in the sort of quietly romantic gesture that turned her to putty, and the next he was telling her he’d do murder in that calm, Creation In Death – Eve Dallas 30

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cool voice that was scarier than a blaster to the temple. And the hell of it was, she thought as the cat bumped his head against her leg, he meant both those things absolutely. Hell, hewas both of those things absolutely. She ordered spaghetti and meatballs, leaned back on the counter, and sighed. He might be exasperating, complicated, dangerous, and difficult, but she loved every piece of the puzzle that made him.

She gave the now desperate Galahad a portion from each plate—fair was fair—before carrying them back into the office. She saw he’d correctly interpreted her carbs as spaghetti, and had opened a bottle of red. He sat, sipping, and scanning her comp screen.

“Maybe he’ll cause you real harm.” Eve set the plates on her desk. “Then I’ll kill him.”

“Works for me. Interesting questions posed here, Lieutenant.” As if it were any casual meal—

and for them perhaps it was—Roarke expertly wound noodles around his fork. “Interesting percentages.”

“Probability’s high Mira hit it with the reasons he’s come back to New York, and the reason he’s targeted me. Also in the high range he’s connected to opera professionally. I’m not sure I agree.”

“Why?”

“Has to be a lot of work, right? Focus, energy, dedication. And in most cases, a lot of interaction with others. Factor it in, sure,” she said, studying the display on-screen, “but when I rolled it around during my thinking time, it doesn’t fit for me. He’s no team player. My gauge is he likes his quiet time. You could, on some level, call his killings performances, but that’s not how I see them. They’re more intimate. Just between him and the vic until he’s done.

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