Chapter Twenty
Eve kept her eyes closed.
“Watch the left shoulder. It was dislocated, fixed now, but sore.”
“We’ll need to remove your jacket, your weapon harness. The vest as well.”
“I’ll do it.” Roarke eased her up. “All right now, baby, I’ve got you.”
That fury, she noted, had simmered down. At least for now.
She had to bear down, as however careful he was still had fresh pain shuddering through her.
“Don’t take off my shirt. I’m not giving Summerset a thrill.”
“I believe he can restrain himself, and you’re wearing a support tank, so deal with it.”
He took off her shirt—she’d known he would.
“Ah God.”
“The bruising on the shoulder’s from the dislocation. It’s back in place. Put a cold pack over it, boy. Have you taken any medication, Lieutenant?”
She preferred, by an Arena Ball field, Summerset’s briskness to Roarke’s distress.
“A blocker.”
“One?”
“Yeah, maybe forty minutes ago.”
“I have stronger meds.”
She opened her eyes, saw the pressure syringe.
“Don’t you put that shit in me. Makes me weird and stupid. I need to function.”
“Then another blocker. Perfectly safe, and no risk of weird and stupid. And if you behave, with only blockers you can have a nice glass of wine when we’re done.”
“Goodie.”
“Right wrist. Not broken. Bruising and swelling from a sprain. Ice this as well.”
“Ribs are bruised,” she said. “Nothing’s broken.”
Clearly, he didn’t trust her on it, as his long fingers checked her. “I’d prefer a full scan, but I believe the lieutenant’s correct. No breaks.”
“He didn’t break anything. He was holding back.”
“This is holding back?” Roarke demanded, and wrapped a cold pack around her wrist.
“He didn’t want to hurt me. The pants stay on.” She whipped that out when Summerset pressed a hand against her hip. “Left hip, left knee, right ankle.
“He wanted me to listen, told me to stay down and listen.”
“You wouldn’t stay down,” Roarke murmured.
“It’s not my job to stay down when dealing with a man who’s killed five people.”
“Redman then. I thought as much.”
“If you’re thinking about payback, shut it down.” She gritted her teeth when Summerset removed her boots, rolled up her pants legs. “And think about this. He had me. I was down, trapped, he’d disarmed me. He could’ve killed me, but he just wanted me to listen.
“Fucking ow!”
“Lacerations where I assume you had a clutch holster.” Summerset spoke mildly. “The stinging from the treatment’s temporary.”
“Not temporary enough. Roarke, they came to him when he was in the hospital. Inside, he was aware, he could hear, unable to respond at the time, but aware. Chu, his friend, the friend and colleague he’d told he’d decided to go to the FBI, to stop them.
And who’d gone to Wyst. ‘Let’s work this all out?
’ They worked it out by hiring Cruz to kill him, and most everyone else in the building.
And he comes in, tells Redman, gee, he’s really sorry. Didn’t know they’d do that.”
“And yet he continued to work for them, he profited from it all.”
“That’s right. Dent came in, told him he should have stuck with the company, that he’d have been able to give his family the best. Wyst came in, said he got what he deserved, that it was his fault his family was dead.”
“Bloody bastards all,” Summerset muttered as he worked.
Roarke put a hand on Summerset’s shoulder. He remembered, Eve thought, as she did, Summerset’s wife had died in an explosion, betrayed by a colleague.
Deciding he’d probably prefer the brisk, too, she aimed for it.
“Yeah, they rank. And he couldn’t do anything but lie there. He’d had the proof. He’d destroyed his own work in the lab, but he’d taken proof home with him.”
“And that was destroyed in the explosion.”
“Move aside, Roarke. I’ll work on her face, her head. Did you lose consciousness, Lieutenant?”
“No. Came close, I guess, but no. I don’t have a concussion. No dizziness, no blurred vision. Headache, I did, yeah. Small wonder. No nausea, and blah blah. I know the signs.”
“Regardless, you have lumps back here. Had some bleeding as well.”
“Wyst is dead. He got to him. Penthouse, executive-type penthouse in Nadine’s building. Your building.”
The blazing blue returned. “He got through security?”
“Roarke, you have to see—or feel—to believe. I have to see the security tapes.”
“As do I.”
“The report is, air ducts, staff lounge, and a service elevator. He pried the freaking doors open on an elevator with just his hands, then he traveled inside the shafts, climbing up, must’ve climbed up on the cables. Up and over, up and over to the private elevator.”
She looked at him. “Ever done something like that?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“So sort of anyway. After examining the body, assessing the scene—which had two armed security guards outside—I knew he didn’t just walk in the doors.
No way in from the outside unless he climbed up fifty-three floors.
I thought of the elevator. The only other way in.
I was heading down to look at the security feed, and he dropped down on me. ”
Summerset ran a healing wand over her jaw, her cheek. It felt good, almost lulled her.
“Wyst taunted him, actually taunted him in the hospital. Told Redman he hoped he lived a long life as a vegetable.”
“You feel for Redman.”
She glanced at Summerset as he smoothed something around her aching eyes.
“They killed his wife, his pregnant wife, his little boy while he was out getting his wife ice cream on a hot summer night. Collateral damage, them and everyone else who died that night. I feel for him. That doesn’t mean I won’t stop him. ”
“Why?” Roarke took her hand now, gently. “Did he tell you the why of all of it?”
“Banner’s in custody—remanded without bail—because we linked them to Cruz. And we found files and chemicals in a restricted lab. They’re busy making bioweapons, on the order of Red House.”
“And he worked that?”
“No, that’s new. He called his project Rainmaker.
Some weather manipulation, something. He was developing it to help people, the planet.
Beyond my scope, but he said they’d be able to end droughts, control floods, more.
But he’d learned the company intended to use it to cause them, so they could wipe out livable land, then take it over, save it—for themselves.
Seems to me they’d make a tidy fortune while scooping up worthless land, then regenerating it.
“Am I done yet?”
“Nearly. Since you’re modest, Roarke will see to any other bodily injuries. When have you last eaten?”
“I don’t know.” Chips, she thought, salty chips in the car.
“That long. Soft food,” he told Roarke. “No need to aggravate her jaw. She favors spaghetti, so that would serve. Once she has something in her stomach, a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt, as she won’t tolerate a tranq.”
“I’m right here, and I won’t.”
“I’d rather you didn’t in any case. You’ll run her a bath. I have something to add to the water.”
“What?” Eve demanded.
“Something that will ease the soreness, stiffness. She’ll insist on working.”
“Still right here.”
“So another two blockers before bed, two in the morning. Then she should be able to go back to one. Healing wands every two hours until she sleeps. I have a healing brace for the shoulder.”
Summerset held up a finger before Eve could protest.
“It will allow you more freedom of movement than the sling you’d refuse, and aid in reducing the swelling, the bruising. If you don’t trust me on this, Roarke will carry you off to a hospital.”
“I bloody well will.”
The cat, who’d sat on the top back of the couch, watching throughout, gave a low, rumbling growl. Eve understood he aimed that growl at her.
Outnumbered, tired, and since she’d heard spaghetti, hungry, she surrendered.
“Fine, fine. Am I done?”
“For the moment. You’ve a remarkable constitution, Lieutenant, and tolerance for pain. Anyone else in this condition would have been begging for what’s in the pressure syringe.”
He laid a hand over hers, briefly. “Follow instructions, and listen to the man who loves you. She’ll do, boy.”
“She will. Thank you.”
Roarke’s obvious gratitude made her feel petty.
“Thanks. It, all of it, feels better.”
“Follow instructions and it will continue to feel better. I’ll get that brace. Keep your shirt off until it’s in place.”
When he left, Roarke took her hand, pressed it to his lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and he shook his head.
“I may have gotten more than I bargained for with you, but you’re what I want, what I need, what I love. I hate he did this to you, and yet—”
“You feel for him, too.”
“How could I not?”
“Roarke, I have to look at the recordings, look at all of them. Including what’s on mine. If seeing that makes it worse for you—”
“I’m entitled to see it. As the man who loves you, and as your consultant. You’re here, aren’t you? You came home to me.”
She shifted, eased herself to sitting. “I could handle a hug now if you’re careful with it, and if you need one.”
He wrapped around her, gently, laid his lips on hers, gently.
“I scared the cat.” She started to reach up to pet Galahad, but that brought an unwelcome twinge.
He slid down, rubbed against her.
When Summerset came back with the brace, he paused, and thought: The children are safe, at least for now.
“If you’ll take a moment, I’ll put this on you, show you both how it works.”
So she tolerated that, and had to admit, the shoulder felt better with it than without.
“I just want to do the updates, write the report.”
“You’ll eat first,” they said together.
“Sit,” Summerset added. “I’ll see to it.”
Maybe it felt weird to sit and have Summerset serve plates, a glass of wine, but now that she’d thought about food, she wanted it.
She ate slowly, carefully, but it went down just fine.
“Is the face any better?”
“A bit.”
“Needs more than a bit. You get body blows, nobody notices, but get your face banged up, everybody does.”
“And that, of course, is the main thing.”
“I go in tomorrow with this? Jenkinson’s going to go on a fuck rampage. Worse? I’ve got a media conference scheduled first thing.”
“Where you’ll look like a cop who doesn’t back down.”