In Death 06 - Vengeance in Death

stylishly black armor. "Okay, let's see what you can do. Run probability scan, file A data. What is the probability that victims Brennen, Conroy, and O'Leary were murdered by same perpetrator?"
    Working, the computer announced in a creamy baritone enlivened with a hint of Parisian French. Before Eve could finish her grin, the scan was complete.
    Probability ninety-nine point six three percent.
    "Dandy, remain in file A. What is the probability that suspect Summerset committed murders?''
    Working.... Probability eighty-seven point eight percent. With current data arrest warrant for murder, multiple, first degree, is recommended. Please advise if list of available judges is desired.
    "No thanks, Bruno, but I appreciate the advice."
    Please advise if you wish to contact the prosecuting attorney's office.
    "Eve."
    She looked over, saw Roarke in the doorway. "Hold on, Bruno." Eve swiped her hair back, rolled her shoulders. "I told you I was going to work."
    "Yes, so you did." He wore only jeans, unhooked at the waist and obviously tugged on as an afterthought.
    Despite the fact that her blood was still warm from him, it heated now. She found herself fantasizing about tugging those unfastened jeans off again, then maybe nipping her teeth into his firm, naked butt for good measure.
    "Huh?" she managed when his voice got through her fantasy.
    "I said..." He paused, then, recognizing the glint in her eyes, arched a brow. "Christ Jesus, Eve, what are you, a rabbit?"
    "I don't know what you mean." She shifted back and stared hard at her monitor.
    "You certainly do, and I'm more than happy to accommodate you... after you explain why you're running probabilities on Summerset. I thought you agreed he was innocent."
    "I'm doing my job, and before you start," she continued, holding up a hand, "I'll explain. I've run the probability from my file A, which contains all the data, all the evidence that I'm free to pass on through official channels at this time. This analysis indicates that I'll be carting Summerset off to maximum lockup in restraints. It's not a lock at under ninety percent, but nobody would argue with the arrest."
    She rolled her shoulders again, blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Now we'll run the scan using file B, which is everything I know, everything I have. Computer -- "
    "I thought its name was Bruno."
    "Just a joke," Eve muttered. "Computer, run probability scan, suspect Summerset, using file B."
    Working... With additional data probability index drops to forty-seven point three eight percent. Warrant is not advised with available data.
    "Cuts the probability by more than half. And I'd say with Mira's testing results logged in after tomorrow, it'll drop more. File A will drop some, too, maybe just enough to keep his ass from swinging."
    "I should have known." Roarke moved behind her, leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head.
    "He's not clear yet. The God guy's counting on me not being willing to trade you off for Summerset -- and he's got that right."
    "But he's underestimated you."
    "Goddamn right. And he's overplayed, Roarke, I can use that with Whitney, too. A man smart enough to pull off these murders isn't stupid enough to leave such an obvious trail. It stinks from setup. And he's going to want to play again. Riddles. Games," she mused, leaning back in her chair. "He likes to fall back on God, but he likes his games. Games are for children."
    "Tell that to the linebacker for Big Apple Arena Ball and see where it gets you."
    She only shrugged. "So, men are children."
    He barely sighed. "Thank you so much."
    "Men are more into toys, games, gizmos as status symbols. You've got a house full of them."
    A bit nonplussed by her opinion, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "I beg your pardon?"
    "I don't just mean the toy toys like video and holo rooms." Her forehead was furrowed now, the line between her brows deepening. "Cars, planes, entertainment centers, spar droids, VR equipment, hell, your businesses are toys."
    Now Roarke rocked back on his heels. "Darling Eve, if you want to tell me I'm shallow, don't be concerned with bruising my feelings."
    "You're not shallow," she said with an absent, back of the hand gesture. "You just overindulge."
    He opened his mouth, struggling to be insulted, and ended up laughing. "Eve, I adore you." He slid his hands down over her breasts, his mouth to her neck. "Let's go overindulge each other."
    "Cut it out. I want to --" His fingers grazed over her nipples and