In Death 02 - Glory in Death

Channel 75 and beamed at her. "I'm touched."
    "All right, I owe you." The man never let her get away with anything, Eve thought in disgust as she climbed out of the car.
    "I'll collect." He caught her arm. "You can start paying off by telling me why you want me along."
    "I told you, it'll save time, since you want to go to this opera thing. "
    Very slowly, very thoroughly, he scanned over her dusty trousers and battered boots. "Darling Eve, though you always look perfect to me, you're not going to the opera dressed like that. So we're going to have to go home to change, anyway. Come clean."
    "Maybe I don't want to go to the opera."
    "So you've already said. Several times, I believe. But we had a deal."
    She lowered her brows, toyed with one of the buttons of his shirt. "It's just singing."
    "I've agreed to sit through two sets at the Blue Squirrel, with the idea of helping Mavis into a recording contract. And no one -- no one with ears -- would consider that singing of any kind."
    She huffed out a breath. A deal was, after all, a deal. "Okay, fine. I said I'm going."
    "Now that you've managed to avoid the question, I'll repeat it. Why am I here?"
    She looked up from his button, into his face. It was always hell for her to admit she could use help. "Feeney's got to dig into the E-work. He can't be spared right now. I want another pair of eyes, ears, another impression."
    His lips curved. "So, I'm your second choice."
    "You're my first civilian choice. You read people well."
    "I'm flattered. And perhaps, while I'm here, I could break Morse's face for you."
    Her grin came quickly. "I like you, Roarke. I really like you."
    "I like you, too. Is that a yes? I'd enjoy it very much."
    She laughed, but there was a part of her that wanned foolishly over the idea of having an avenger. "It's a happy thought, Roarke, but I'd really rather break his face myself. At the right time and in the right place. "
    "Can I watch?"
    "Sure. But for the moment, can you just be the rich and powerful Roarke, my personal trophy?"
    "Ah, how sexist. I'm excited."
    "Good. Hold that thought. Maybe we'll skip the opera after all."
    They walked together through the main entrance, and Roarke had the pleasure of watching her shrug on the cop. She flashed her badge at security, gave him a pithy suggestion that he keep out of her face, then strode toward the ascent.
    "I love to watch you work," he murmured in her ear. "You're so... forceful," he decided as his hand slid down her back toward her butt.
    "Cut it out."
    "See what I mean?" He rubbed his gut where her elbow had jabbed. "Hit me again. I could learn to love it."
    She managed, barely, to turn a chuckle into a snort. "Civilians," was all she said.
    The newsroom was busy, noisy. At least half of the on-desk reporters were plugged into 'links, headsets, or computers. Screens flashed current broadcasts. A number of conversations stopped dead when Eve and Roarke stepped from the ascent. Then, like a horde of dogs with the same scent in their nostrils, reporters scrambled forward.
    "Back off," Eve ordered with enough force to have one eager beaver stumbling backward and stomping on the foot of a cohort. "Nobody gets a comment. Nobody gets squat until I'm ready."
    "If I do buy this place," Roarke said to Eve in a voice just loud enough to carry, "I'll have to make several staff cuts."
    That created a swath wide enough to stride through. Eve zeroed in on a face she recognized. "Rigley, where's Furst?"
    "Hey, Lieutenant." He was all teeth and hair and ambition. "If you'd like to step into my office," he invited, gesturing toward his console.
    "Furst," she repeated, in a voice like a bullet. "Where?"
    "I haven't seen her all day. I covered her morning report myself."
    "She called in." Beaming smiles, Morse sauntered over. "Taking some time off," he explained, and his mobile face shifted to sober lines. "She's pretty ripped up about Louise. We all are."
    "Is she at home?"
    "Said she needed some time, is all I know. Management cut her a break. She's got a couple of weeks coming. I'm taking over her beat." His smile flashed again. "So, if you'd like a little airtime, Dallas. I'm your man."
    "I've had plenty of your airtime, Morse."
    "Well then." He dismissed her and shifted toward Roarke. His smile bumped up in wattage. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You're a difficult man to contact."
    Deliberately insulting, Roarke ignored Morse's offered hand. "I only give time to people I consider interesting."
    Morse