Connections in Death (In Death, #48)- J. D. Robb Page 0,101
effort they took him by thinking the system failed him.”
He trailed his fingers, lightly, so lightly over her battered face.
And you fought for him, he thought, will fight for others like him. Again and again and again.
“Five people are responsible for his death,” he reminded her, “and two of them have paid with their own lives. You and your system will see to it the other three pay, will demand justice for Lyle, and give solace to his family. A family, Eve, who will remember and cherish the man he began to be in prison, and not the one he was when he went inside.”
“I feel it’s . . . Do you really believe that?”
“Believe it? I’m proof of it.” He skimmed a hand over her hair, down to the nape of her neck still tight with tension. “Do you think I work with you and the cops only for the entertainment? Not to downplay that value at all, as it’s considerable. But since you—you and your system, no matter how I might push against it from time to time—I’ve seen what it can do and be in the right hands. And having a part in that? It’s shown me that I can make a difference in my way. Maybe offset some of my darker deeds.”
He kissed her bruised face. “I know a failed system, as it failed me as a boy, and Christ, it failed you. But you changed that, for yourself, for others. For me. The system you stand for didn’t fail Lyle, Eve. And it’s not failing him now.”
She drew him closer, rested her head on his shoulder. And realized he’d given her what she hadn’t been able to find for herself. Peace of mind.
“I’m going to remember all that, everything you just said, when I break them tomorrow.”
“I’ll regret not being there for that, but—”
“Somebody has to buy the next galaxy.”
“Very true. Now, let’s see to the rest of you. Lie down and I’ll see what the bat-wielding, concrete-biceps-on-Zeus Tank has done to my cop.”
“It’s not too bad. Truth,” she insisted, when he took her hand, pulled her up.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” At the side of the bed, he circled a finger in the air. “Robe off, lie down.”
“You just want to play doctor.”
“A favorite of mine.” To Galahad’s annoyance, Roarke lifted his bulk from the bed and set him down in front of the fire he had simmering low.
Eve shrugged out of the robe, sat on the side of the bed. “See, not too bad. She got a couple of shots in the ribs—fist, not bat. The bat bashed my helmet, then sort of bounced off my shoulder.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He started wanding the thunderous rainbow of bruising on her shoulder. “And was she the only one you dealt with hand to hand?”
“Couple more, but they didn’t really land anything. Carmichael’s sporting a mouse, and Reineke got a little bloody. Nothing major. Peabody got the worst of it on our side. A bunch of them got the worst altogether. One of them tossed out a mini boomer,” she remembered.
However casually she mentioned it, it still stopped his heart for a beat. “And no one was hurt?”
“On their side some because I fielded it and pitched it back in. Lucky for them it didn’t have much juice.” She turned her head, smiled at him. “I feel better.”
“Good. There’s some balm in the kit Summerset swears by. We’ll try some on your face, but the rest, as you said, isn’t too bad.”
“I feel better,” she repeated. “And I’m naked.”
His gaze shifted to hers. “I had noticed, but I’m trying to maintain my medical ethics.”
“Screw ethics,” she said, and whipped a leg over, shoved him back, straddled him. “I soaked in the stuff, did the ice, got the wand. The least you can do is polish me off.”
“When you put it that way.”
“You could put it this way.” She lifted his hands, pressed them to her breasts.
“You’re definitely feeling better.”
“Yeah. You’re so pretty. I’m glad nobody punched you in the face.” She leaned down, brushed her lips over his cheeks. “Dreamcake.”
“I’m sorry, that nickname’s taken. You have to think of your own.”
“I’ll come up with something. Meanwhile.” She stripped off his sweater, ran her hands up that excellent torso, then up over his chest, his shoulders, into his hair as she leaned down to take his mouth with hers.
A long, quiet kiss, one that soothed the soul, a soul that had felt more battered than the rest of