Page 21 of Fury In Death

“I beg your pardon, I believe I think like a man who owns and runs companies, and knows what goes on inside them.”

“All of them? All the time?”

“All of them, and if not minute-by-minute, eventually.”

They stepped into the bedroom, where the cat stretched out on the bed, taking up as much room as he could manage.

Eve took off her weapon harness, set it aside.

“It’s a lot of balls to juggle. Do you ever get tired of it?”

“Tired, yes. Tired of it, not a bit. It’s the very same for you,” he added as he undressed. “A lot of balls you juggle as well. Running your division, knowing what’s going on inside it, heading investigations, talking to witnesses, survivors, suspects. You get tired, as you are now, but not of it. You don’t tire of the hunt, of putting pieces together, of taking down those who choose to kill.”

Yes, she thought as she pulled on a nightshirt, she was tired now. But not of the job.

“Right before we met, I think I was in or heading for some sort of crisis. Something was starting to crack. Part of it had to be the memories I’d buried pushing back. Dreams, that room in Dallas, the red light flashing, blood on my hands. The little girl’s hands.”

Saying nothing, he went to her, folded her in.

“It wasn’t all that, but as hard as I tried to lock it away, Richard Troy kept eking through. And part, I kept myself closed off, no outlet. Well, Mavis, and she’s a hell of an outlet.”

“She is all of that.” He kissed her again before he drew her to the bed.

“But I worked alone, primarily. After I made lieutenant, and Feeney went to captain EDD, that’s what suited me. For a while. Then right before we met, right before I caught the DeBlass case, I couldn’t save that little girl, that baby. I was just that much too late to save her, and the crack widened.”

The cat shifted with a grunt, then padded to curl against Eve’s back. “DeBlass, very sensitive, Code Five, and Whitney pulled Feeney in to work it with me. Then I met you, major pain in my ass.”

“And you an ache in my heart from the first.”

Even as she snorted, she smiled. “Then there’s this pudgy, weird-eyed cat, and I wanted him. Never had a pet, never thought of getting one, but I wanted him.”

“He’s saved your life. Twice.”

“Yeah, he has. You and me, we’ve saved each other so I could let what needed to push through the crack push through. And I could close it again.”

She laid a hand over his heart. “Sometimes you’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you anyway.”

Holding her, he kissed her lightly. “We’ll keep juggling, together and separately. Sleep now, darling Eve.”

In the dark, held close, she slept.

When she woke in the morning, they were there. Roarke sat on the sitting area sofa, the cat a gray lump in his lap. Stock bullshit scrolled on the wall screen as Roarke, in today’s gunmetal-gray power suit, did whatever masters of the business world did on their PPCs.

And the scent of coffee, strong, black, and beautiful, wafted to her.

Maybe it was foolish that it was all such a comfort to her. The man, the suit, the cat, the screen, and, oh yeah, the coffee. But somehow the simple, the ordinary routine of it kept her centered.

Kept the cracks at bay, she supposed, so she could keep on juggling.

“It rained earlier,” he told her, though he hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction. “But you’ll have a bright day to pursue justice.”

“You keep tossing umbrellas in my ride, so rain’s fine, too.”

“You’ll want your ass-kicker sunshades today, I’d wager.”

“Where are they?”

“In your ride.”