In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

floor.
    “Let me see. Let me see.”
    “Not that bad.” He took a labored breath, reached up. “You took a few hits yourself.”
    “Be quiet.” She ripped open his already ruined shirt, shoved his jacket aside. “Why do you always wear so many clothes?”
    She didn’t know she was weeping, he thought, his cop, his cool-headed warrior. When she shed her own jacket, ruthlessly ripped off the sleeve, he winced. “That was a nice one, once.”
    She folded the sleeve, pressed the cushion of material to the wound in his side.
    “It’s not bad.” Well, he hoped to Christ it wasn’t, and concentrated on her face. Eve’s face. Just Eve. “Hurts like the bloody fires of hell, but it’s not that bad. I’ve been stabbed before.”
    “Shut up, just shut up.” She yanked out her communicator. “Officer needs assistance. Officer down. Officer down.”
    “I’m an officer now, am I? That’s insult to injury.” As she shouted out the address, he turned his head at the violent thumping at the door. “Ah, well, there’s the backup. Wipe your face, baby. You’d hate them to see the tears.”
    “Screw that.” But she swiped the back of one bloody hand over her cheeks. She pressed his hand to the makeshift bandage. “Hold that?
    Can you hold that?” She ripped off the second sleeve. “You’re not leaving me.”
    “Darling Eve. I’m not going anywhere.” Her face, he thought again as the pain seared up his side. “I had worse than this when I was twelve.”
    She added the second pad, laid her hand over his. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
    “That’s what I’m telling you,” he said as the door burst open. The entry team came in loaded, with Peabody behind them.
    “Get a medic!” Eve demanded. “Get a damn medic in here. We’re clear. We’re clear.”
    “Sweep the place,” Peabody ordered. “Secure that asshole.” She dropped to her knees beside Eve. “MT’s on the way. How bad?” She reached out, stroked Roarke’s hair back from his face.
    “Stabbed him in the side. He’s lost blood. I think we’ve slowed it down, but—”
    “Let’s have a look.” Feeney crouched down. “Ease back, Dallas. Come on now, kid, ease back.” Feeney elbowed her aside, gently lifted the field dressing. “That’s a good hole you’ve got there.” He looked into Roarke’s eyes. “I expect you’ve had worse.”
    “I have. She’s some of her own.”
    “We’ll take care of it.”
    “It’s clear.” McNab shot his weapon away, knelt down beside Peabody. “How you doing?” he asked Roarke.
    “Been better, but, hell, we won.”
    “That’s what counts. Callendar’s grabbing towels out of the bathroom. We’ll fix you up.”
    “No doubt.” As he started to sit up, Eve shoved in again.
    “Don’t move. You’ll start up the bleeding again. Wait—”
    “Now you shut up,” he suggested, and tugged her to him, pressed his lips firmly to hers.

22
     
     
     
    E ve sat in the conference room with the team, her commander, Mira, and Cher Reo.
    She watched, with the others, while her recording played on-screen, and tried to ignore the fact that on it she fought for her life wearing a black skin-suit and copper breastplate.
    If she couldn’t still feel the memory of Roarke’s blood on her hands, and the aches and burns in her own body, it would’ve been ridiculous.
    Again, she watched Roarke block her from attack while she fired at holo-images. Why hadn’t she hit the controls sooner, she thought? Why hadn’t she found them sooner? Seconds sooner and he wouldn’t have taken the knife. Only seconds.
    She saw it happen again, the pivot and block to save her, the fierceness of his face. And the slide of the knife into his vulnerable side.
    Then the scene changed—like a flipped channel—and they stood in a room ruined by her blasts and streams, smoke thick, the controls crackling flame, and Roarke’s blood staining the floor.
    “It’s bizarre,” Reo murmured. “I’ve watched it twice now, listened to your report, and I still have a hard time believing it.”
    “We’ll need to keep as many of the details as possible out of the media.” Whitney scanned the faces in the room. “As many as possible inside this room. All of his records and equipment were confiscated?”
    “Everything in the place,” Eve confirmed. “He may have another hole, but I believe that’s unlikely. He kept it all close to home. We’ll take him into Interview shortly.” She turned to Mira.