Chapter Twenty #3
“Well, well, fucking well.” The huge smile made her lip sting, but she couldn’t stop it. “The annoying gnat’s going to buzz straight into his ear tomorrow morning. Maybe the Irish upstart wants to observe.”
“Oh aye, that he fecking does.”
“I need to write my report, including all this. Whitney has to hold off the media conference until I’m finished in the box. Senator Hawley from where?”
He’d already checked. “Alabama.”
“Yeah? I believe that mention warrants a conversation with the FBI. Teasdale’s going to love this.”
“Feeney’s fond of an occasional glass of the Irish.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I think a case of the best of it’s in order.”
“He did his job,” Eve began, then nodded. “Sure, why not?”
“For now, I’ll see to your board.”
“This is turning into a really good day.”
He touched his fingers to her bruised and swollen jaw. “You would think so.”
She considered contacting Whitney directly, but figured that would bring more comments about her face. She opted for a minutely detailed report, the request for the media conference to follow her interview with Banner, and the request to schedule that at oh-eight-thirty.
No real need to go to the morgue. The adjustment gave her time, enough time, just enough, to work things out with Peabody and Reo.
“Bath,” Roarke decreed. “Blockers, wanding, rest.”
“Just let me—” She got up, because he had her hand, didn’t give her much choice, but stood, looking at the board he’d updated.
“It’s all right there,” she said. “You can see it all now. Redman confides in Chu—friend, colleague. Chu’s working on Rainmaker, too, so he confides. Chu, bottom-lining it, wanting to avoid trouble, goes to Wyst, maybe O’Brian, but it all moves to Wyst.
“Wyst calls for a conference, so one night thirteen years ago, Banner, Wyst, maybe O’Brian, Delgato, possibly Dent, get together and decide the best way to protect their bottom line, keep the project moving forward, to keep Redman from blowing the horn—makes more noise than a whistle—is to kill him.
An accident, a big, tragic accident. One among many, so who’d look at them?
Hire Cruz on Delgato’s recommendation. You can follow it all, from then to now, on that board. ”
Procedure, she thought. It mattered.
“You hope by telling Redman, through the media, Banner and O’Brian will be tried, will face justice, you’ll save him.”
“Stop him.”
“By stopping him you save him. You want both.”
“You don’t think I can have both.”
As he led her to the bedroom, he kissed the hand he held. “Wanting both makes you who you are. I love, very much, who you are.”
He ran the bath, helped her undress, remove the brace.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured.
“I’m not going to look. Hell, yes I am.” She moved to the full-length mirror in her closet. “Shit.”
Banged up knee—well, both, but one more than the other—bruised hip and, yeah, ass, too. Ribs, shoulder looked like a mean and dirty storm cloud rolled over them. Ankle, wrist both looked to be healing well enough.
Face? Not as bad as it had looked in the vanity mirror. But not good.
“Not the first time.” She started to shrug, but the shoulder couldn’t handle it.
She walked to the bath. He’d lit candles and was pouring something into the water.
“Looks romantic.”
“Not tonight, dear,” he said, and made her laugh. “Summerset recommended aromatherapy as well as the rest.”
“What’s in that bottle going in there?”
“I’m not altogether sure, but it has a lovely scent. In you go now.”
He helped her into the enormous tub. He knew she liked bathwater close to scalding and hadn’t let her down. It felt as if she lowered her body into hot, slightly rolling wonderful.
“Okay, this is good.”
“A bit more.” He started to lower some sort of mask over her eyes.
“Hold on, what’s that thing? It’s purple.”
“Healing mask. Amethyst crystals, and smooth as glass. For your eyes.”
She started to object, but when he lowered it, she experienced cold, penetrating wonderful.
“Try to turn your brain off. Fifteen minutes.”
She couldn’t, so didn’t, and spent the time in the wonderful working out how she’d handle Banner and his lawyers.
Busy brain, Roarke thought when he lifted the mask away. Even half asleep, a busy brain. He helped her up, wrapped her in a bath sheet.
“Lie down now. Blockers first, there you are. There’s a salve, then the wanding. It’s best you wear the brace through the night.”
He smoothed the salve over bruises and scrapes, wanded them all, and the face he loved. As gently as he could, he fit the brace back on, slid a soft, thin nightshirt over her.
He’d intended to push a soother on her, but doubted she needed it.
He saw he’d been right when, with barely a murmur, she slept.
“There now, a ghrá, no dreams tonight.”
He gave the cat, who’d sat, watching all, guarding her, a long stroke.
“Well now, mate, we’ve done what we could for tonight. Not the first time, is it now? And we know, both of us, don’t we, it won’t be the last.”
Roarke slid in beside her, and the cat did the same. Rather than holding her close, Roarke just took her hand in his.
“Lights out,” he ordered.