Remember When

four men who'd stolen the diamonds were dead. But people rarely got through life without connections. Family, associates, enemies.
    A connection to a thief might consider himself entitled to the booty. A kind of reward, an inheritance, a payback. A connection to a thief might know how to gain access to a secured residence.
    Blood tells, she thought. People often said that. She, for one, had reason to hope it wasn't true. If it was true, what did that make her, the daughter of a monster and a junkie whore? If it was all a matter of genes, DNA, inherited traits, what chance was there for a child created by two people for the purpose of using her for profit? For whoring her. For raising her like an animal. Worse than an animal.
    Locking her in the dark. Alone, nameless. Beating her. Raping her. Twisting her until at the age of eight she would kill to escape.
    Blood on her hands. So much blood on her hands.
    "Damn it. Damn it, damn it." Eve squeezed her eyes shut and willed the images away before their ghosts could solidify into another waking nightmare.
    Blood didn't tell. DNA didn't make us. We made ourselves, if we had any guts we made ourselves.
    She pulled her badge out of her pocket, held it like a talisman, like an anchor. We made ourselves, she thought again. And that was that.
    She laid her badge on the desk where she could see it if she needed to, then, reengaging the audio, she listened as she ordered runs on the names of her four thieves.
    Thinking about coffee, she rose to wander into the kitchen. She toyed with programming a pot, then cut it back to a single cup. One of the candy bars she'd stashed began to call her name. And after all, she'd eaten the damn peach.
    She dug it out from under the ice in the freezer bin. With coffee in one hand, frozen chocolate in the other, she walked back into the office. And nearly into Roarke.
    He took one look, raised an eyebrow. "Dinner?"
    "Not exactly." He made her feel like a kid stealing treats. And she'd never been a kid with treats to steal. "I was just... shit." She pulled off the headset. "Working. Taking a little break. What's it to you?"
    He laughed, pulled her in for a kiss. "Hello, Lieutenant."
    "Hello back. Ignore him," she said when Galahad slithered up to meow and beg. "I fed him already."
    "Better, no doubt, than you fed yourself."
    "Did you eat?"
    "Not yet." He slid a hand around her throat, squeezed lightly. "Give me half that candy."
    "It's frozen. You gotta wait it out."
    "This then." He took her coffee, smirked at her scowl. "You smell... delicious."
    When the hand at her throat slid around to cup the nape of her neck, she realized he meant her, not the coffee. "Back up, pal." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "I've got agendas here. Since you haven't eaten, why don't we go try this Italian place I heard about downtown."
    When he said nothing, just sipped her coffee, studied her over the rim, she frowned. "What?"
    "Nothing. Just making certain you really are my wife. You want to go out to dinner, sit in a restaurant where there are other people."
    "We've been out to dinner before. Millions of times. What's the bfd?"
    "Mmm-hmm. What does an Italian restaurant downtown have to do with your case?"
    "Smarty-pants. Maybe I just heard they have really good lasagna. And maybe I'll tell you the rest on the way because I sort of made reservations. I made them before I realized you'd be this late and might not want to go out. I can check it out tomorrow."
    "Is there time for me to have a shower and change out of this bloody suit? It feels as though I were born in it."
    "Sure. But I can cancel if you just want to kick back."
    "I could use some lasagna, as long as it comes with a great deal of wine."
    "Long one, huh?"
    "More annoying than long, actually," he told her as she walked with him to the bedroom. "A couple of systemic problems. One in Baltimore, one in Chicago, and both required my personal attention."
    She pursed her lips as he undressed for the shower. "You've been to Baltimore and Chicago today?"
    "With a quick stop in Philadelphia, since it was handy."
    "Did you get a cheese steak?"
    "I didn't, no. Time didn't allow for such indulgences. Jets full," he ordered when he stepped into the shower. "Seventy-two degrees."
    Even the thought of a shower at that temperature made her shiver. But, somehow, she could still enjoy standing there watching him drench himself in the cold water. "Did you get them fixed?
    The systemic problems?"
    "Bet your gorgeous