Chapter Twenty-One
Eve woke stiff, sore, and irritated. Roarke, already sitting on the side of the bed, held out one hand with two blockers. The other held coffee.
“Blockers first, then coffee.”
“I really want to take this brace off. The shoulder feels better.”
“You’re lying, as you’d be stiff as any board and sore with it. But we’ll take a look at your shoulder and the rest of you with the wanding.”
“Don’t you get tired of playing Nurse Sexy?”
“More than I can say, and if only it were playing.” He drew the sleep shirt up and away.
“I want that coffee.”
He handed it to her while he removed the brace. “Swelling’s down more than a bit, and the bruising’s better.”
She couldn’t quite get a good look. “Are you lying now?”
“You’ll see for yourself I’m not, no, after the wanding.”
As before, Galahad sat, watched.
“You won’t want it, but you’ll need the brace another eighteen hours. Twenty-four would be better.”
“According to Summerset.”
“According to the medic you chose rather than a doctor or hospital, so back on it’ll need to go. If you’re wanting a shower, don’t put the jets on full as you usually do.”
When he’d finished wanding her face, she gave in, rested her forehead to his. “Thanks.”
“Blockers kicking in, are they?”
“Maybe. Either way you’re the last one I should get bitchy with. I want the shower. Jets half power.”
“To save you the effort and the time, why don’t I get your clothes this morning?” He smiled at her narrowed look. “I perfectly understand you’ll take Banner in the box, and you have the media. So kick-ass cop is the guideline.”
“Okay, but I have the right to object.”
“As always. How’s the jaw?”
She moved it side to side. Cautiously. “Better. No lie.”
“Good. Have your shower.”
She wanted one for the ritual, and the soothing, but first braced herself for another full-length mirror check.
The sick yellow mixed in with the black-and-blue meant healing was happening.
Ribs, shoulder, the worst of it. Facial swelling?
Definitely down. Her nose looked almost normal.
Normal-ish? Bruised but barely swollen. Right cheek, still blooming.
Two shiners, yes, but some of that sick yellow in there, too.
She got her shower, embracing the gentle pulse of half-power jets. By the time she eased into a robe, she decided:
Not as stiff, not as sore, and not nearly as irritated.
Satisfied, she stepped out to find Roarke—casual navy sweater, stone-gray jeans—on the sofa with the cat. Domed plates held whatever breakfast he’d decided her healing jaw could manage.
On the bed he’d laid out her clothes for the day.
Trousers several shades darker than his jeans with a leather vest—she had a weakness for leather—the same tone as the jeans but with thin black stripes.
Black jacket with the dark gray, in leather again, in a thin line at the cuffs, along the pockets.
A white shirt that looked cloud soft, lay with the rest, along with a black belt.
For the boots, he’d gone with the dark gray.
“Objections?”
“I can’t come up with any.”
“I’d suggest you leave the jacket off for the interview and the media.
” At her frown, he smiled. “You quite obviously took a hammering, Lieutenant, but you’re not only still standing, aren’t you now, you’re doing the job of the tough, kick-ass cop.
You’re more than your weapon, Christ knows, but showing it shows that as well. ”
“You really think this all through.”
“Well, it’s a gift. Come eat. You’ll want fuel to do that job.”
She walked over, displaced the cat, sat.
“Scrambled eggs,” he said as he removed the domes. “And a French toast casserole smothered in crushed strawberries. Easy on the jaw.”
She sampled it. “Easy on the jaw, and on everything else. Why is it—”
“Knowing you’d ask why it’s French toast, I educated myself. The dish predates France, but the French added the flair of cinnamon, vanilla, and used better bread. So the name.”
“You could call it whatever, it’d still be really good.”
“You’ve worked out how you’ll approach Banner.”
“Pretty straightforward, considering. I’ll—”
“Surprise me. I do love watching you work.”
“That’s because you’re an Irish upstart. You’ll take over the company, boot out the bad—if any of it’s left by the time numerous law enforcement from numerous countries gets done with it. You’ll enhance the good. You’ll change it.”
“I plan on it.”
“You’ll do it. You’ll spend a fortune, lose a lot with the changes. Then you’ll make two fortunes, at least, probably inside five years.”
“Three should do it.” Then he smiled. “You know a bit more about my business than you think.”
“No, I know you. You make me proud.”
For a moment, she struck him speechless.
“I rag on you about the great gobs of money, the business, all that because I can. And it’s fun.
But I don’t think to tell you, at least not just that way, you make me proud of what you do.
What you do, it’s what Redman wanted to do.
You make the world better. People like Wyst, Banner, it’s all about the money, the power and influence.
You get all of that, but you make the world better, never aim to fuck over the little guy. So you earn it.”
“You undo me,” he murmured. “I wonder how much I’d have done that earns it in that way if I hadn’t felt the stare at the back of my neck at a funeral for a friend’s daughter. If I hadn’t turned and seen you.”
“All of it.” She ate some eggs. “Maybe I kick-started the timing, but all of it. That’s who you are.
I’m who I am, do what I do because they made me a victim, made me helpless and constantly afraid.
So I earned the badge because I need to stand up for the victim.
You’re who you are, do what you do because they beat you into the ground whenever they wanted to, they tried to make you nothing.
They couldn’t, any more than they could beat the humanity out of you. ”
“So here we are.”
“Yeah, and we’re going to keep being who we are and doing what we do. This was good. Jaw’s okay. I would rather not take a punch anytime soon, but it’s okay. So am I, so I’m putting on my ass-kicking cop clothes.”
“Do you want a change in case we can’t get back before the party?”
“Shit.” She shoved her hand through her hair. “Not ready to think about it. That’s okay, right?” She gestured to the bed. “It’s not all dressy—Peabody and Mavis said. I can lock my weapon in the car.”
“It’ll do very well. We’ll put the brace over your support tank.”
She tolerated that, finished dressing. For once Galahad didn’t eye the breakfast dishes. He stayed busy watching her.
So she bent down, stroked him. “I’m okay, and I’m going to work. You’re off duty.”
Regardless, he followed them down, waited until the door closed behind them before he ran back to Summerset’s quarters. Where he might charm his way into some cat candy.
“I’ll drive.”
“Good.” Eve got in the passenger seat. “Because I’m about to start Special Agent Teasdale’s day off with a bang.”
Once she had, she switched to Reo.
“Oh, jeez. We heard. Ow!”
“Most of the ow’s over. I’m heading into Central to interview Banner.”
“Also known. We have the data—and it’s still coming in—from the raid.
We’re strategizing right now. I’ll be there for Banner.
The boss and some others are going to be busy, as the data includes a Supreme Court justice, three federal judges, a U.S.
senator, two congresspeople, a former White House chief of staff, and a current cabinet member.
“So far.”
“You look giddy, Reo.”
“Do I? Wonder why. Oh, and that’s just in this country. We’re getting documentation, payments, kickbacks, bribes, blackmail not only from here but global. We’ll be sharing the riches.”
“Banner’s priority for me.”
“Understood, and he’ll be mine. Trust me.”
“I do. See you there.”
“The fallout,” Roarke commented, “will be awesome.”
“It has to be. I need to use it, direct to Redman, show him the system will work. I need him to come in.”
He pulled into Central and her slot. She’d barely gotten out of the car when Feeney did the same.
He took a long look. “Super ’roids.”
“Yeah. I hear you’re still punching out the data.”
“I had two of the boys working it on night shift. We’ll take over. You want in?” he asked Roarke.
“I’ll start with you, but I’m in Observation when the lieutenant takes Banner.”
“So am I. If you need any tech assist in the box, kid, give me the high sign.”
“I will. Meanwhile, I shouldn’t ask, but I want to get going, and you know, injured, so I shouldn’t get jostled.”
Feeney grinned, did whatever e-magic he—and Roarke—knew how to do to put the elevator on express to Homicide.
“Smooth, thanks. You’ve got maybe forty minutes.”
“We’ll be back.”
She thought she’d beat them in by at least ten minutes, but Jenkinson sat scowling at his desk.
“Today? You’d wear that tie today? Look at my eyes.”
“See what it is?” he demanded. “Badges, police badges.”
“Police badges aren’t issued in those horrific, torch-your-retinas colors.”
“Police badges, which I’ve got, you’ve got, and every cop in the city’s fucking got. And some fucker fucking beats our lieutenant bloody? We’re taking that fucker the fuck down. He does that to you, he fucking does it to fucking all of us.”
“I’m sending you the record. You’re going to play it for the bullpen.”
“We don’t need fucking motivation on this. Fuck it!”
“You’re going to watch the recording, everyone. You’re going to see, because you’re damn good cops, that Steven Redman needs help.”
She held up a hand before he could paper the air with another medley of fucks.
“We need to bring him in. And you need to understand this: If he’d wanted to kill me, I’d be in the morgue.
“I’ve got work to do because I’m going to take down the man responsible for Redman kicking my ass. That’s Calvin Banner. Send Peabody and Reo into my office as soon as they come in.”
She turned, went into her office. After cuing up the recording, she sent it. Then let out a breath.
That checked off another step she’d worked out while lying in the tub with crystals over her eyes.