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Chapter Eighteen
Posted by
jlk
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20 October 2012
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Dressed, barefoot, still pissed off, Eve went to find a link or comp and the AWOL NYPSD psychiatric profiler, recent waker of the living dead. Eve bet Mira could write one hell of a journal article on this. She was walking fast down the corridor with glass windows showing the tank with the bodies floating and technicians fearfully studying those bodies, when she heard … pink cowboy boots … the squish of gel boot soles … hard soled boots … and thought, Oh, now they come. She struck a pose.
Roarke was in the lead, black leather duster swirling around him, both hands holding serious firepower, long silky black hair back in its leather lace, blue eyes as piercing as any laser beam. He obviously didn’t expect to see Eve leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, ankles crossed, waiting patiently - copying the pose he struck so often when lying in wait for her in various medical settings. He skidded to a halt. Davidson rushed past him, Peabody hot on his heels. Both echoed his skid. By the time they’d recovered, Roarke had holstered the weapons somewhere under the coat and snatched Eve in his arms.
Eve sighed, not caring in the least that he had her squeezed so hard to his chest that she could barely breathe, that he was hurting her ribs. She put her face into his throat and curled her fingers around his coat and breathed him in. “You’re late” she accused, ignoring every other distraction. With as much manpower and firepower as she had seen swarming down the hallway behind him, she wasn’t worried about anything but making sure Roarke knew she had known he would find her. “I was getting ready to call you.”
“Had to negotiate a border crossing” he responded. Ignoring the fact that she seemed to be standing comfortably on her own two feet and able to save herself, he scooped Eve into his arms and turned.
Peabody grinned at her. “Hey, Dallas. Mira’s safe.” She blew on her fingernails, buffed them on her flak jacket.
“Thank God.” Eve contentedly rested her head on Roarke’s shoulder, still holding the lapels of the duster. She flashed a smile at McNab and Davidson.
“Secure the building, take charge” Roarke ordered Davidson, then brushed by them and strode back down the corridor. “I don’t know why I worry about you,” he told Eve conversationally, the tremor in his voice too slight for any but his wife to have detected. “Next time you’re abducted I’m just going to stay at the office and get some work done.”
Eve pouted. “You don’t love me anymore.”
“Certainly not in that color of pink.” He handed her up into a massive helicopter, took her back from the army-fatigue-wearing man he’d handed her to and sat them down on one of the two long padded benches in the sleek transport. As the machine revved up, he buckled them both in, and contented his self with kissing her face until his pulse settled and his hands stopped shaking. “Are you all right, darling Eve?”
Eve wasn’t quite sure what he had said over the sound of the helicopter. Unlike Roarke’s jetcopter, this behemoth made so much noise you couldn’t have heard Peabody whining she wanted lunch Eve thought in amusement. She shook her head, resting against him. He held her, his cheek on her hair. For a small while, everything was just as it should be.
And then they reached an airfield and Roarke carried her to a limousine unfortunately holding two men who spoke what Eve assumed was German and seemed to have a lot of questions. Eve took the coward’s way out, faked exhaustion and pretended to sleep snug in Roarke’s hold. Somehow it didn’t surprise her he was able to converse with them in the same language. Outside the hotel there was an impressive mob of media. Roarke seemed to have sent the majority of his troops, she hadn’t had a chance to ask him about that, in to the coma facility, because there weren’t enough at the hotel to keep the mob pushed back while they were trying to get up the front steps and inside.
Seeing a Nadine Furst type who was waving a Coffee Mocha Booster at her, Eve grabbed the recyclable glass tube, opened it, drank and gave a pleased hum as the taste filled her senses. “What” she asked, noting Roarke’s glare as he dragged her inside, squeezing by the lineup of security holding the hotel sacrosanct against the media. “You’re always making me drink them. I haven’t had one in like two weeks.” She hadn’t had coffee either. Mira had been in heaven; the villa had run to fancy teas and water. It had only increased Eve’s desire to get home to her personal coffee connection.
Roarke gave orders in German, spoke to two other men, then holding her close to his side he guided her to the elevator and down a hallway to his suite. Summerset and the cat waited for them.
Eve bent to pet the cat, then stood to consider her arch nemesis. Still feeling put out, Galahad wound around her bare feet. “Count Dracula calls you home here?” She smiled slyly.
His eyes slid up and down her body, covered loosely in the most horrid color of pink anyone could have chosen for her, even with her recent tan, noting she had gained some weight and looked healthy. So their truce was over, Summerset thought in satisfaction. “No, Lieutenant. I came to see if you had pinked up in your complexion.” He thought that was a good one.
Eve narrowed her eyes. “How would you like to donate a pint of blood. Through your nose?”
“I am just happy that Roarke has retrieved you, Lieutenant. While travel is very educational, I’m not sure you are adept enough yet to ask for a burger and beer while abroad.” He smirked.
Before things could deteriorate, Roarke guided Eve toward their room. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll get our supper. Then we can go see Mira and you can reassure her you’re safe.” Roarke followed her into the bathroom, began to pull the scrub top over her head, then tugged the pants down and lifted her out of them as they pooled around her feet. He carefully studied her body, holding her by the shoulders firmly when Eve protested, flushing. He turned her, sighed, wrapped his arms around her. “How can you possibly look better than when you were taken from me?” Relieved, he couldn’t seem to let her go.
Eve leaned her head back against him. “I should probably tell you that I really like that coat you were wearing, ace.”
“Why?” He was petting her now, stroking her hair, face, neck, shoulders, arms. He couldn’t stop touching her. She was back with him. She was here with him.
“Because I’d really like to see you in just the coat.” Eve twisted around, pressed against him, eyes laughing up at him. He actually looked shocked for an instant before his eyes laughed back down at her.
“Whatever would make you happy, darling Eve. I live to please you.” To prove it, he kissed her. When he lifted his head, Roarke studied her eyes. They were soft, looking at him with the love he had never thought to see in a woman he would love back. Something was different in that gaze now. He absently ordered the shower on, holding her eyes with his as he undressed, realizing he couldn’t leave her alone even for a short time. “What’s different about you” he asked, urging her into the water.
Eve closed her eyes, enjoying the hot normal water. “Maybe it’s that I’m finally in good health again” she suggested. His body was hard and strong … and hers. It was time to celebrate life, Eve decided. “Just be still” she ordered and began to touch him with her eyes closed. He was firm under that soft skin. Muscled from daily workouts, either before she got up in the morning or after he got home from work. He’d gained muscle mass in their time together. “Did you use to work-out so much, before me?” Her fingers glided over the muscles of his shoulders, definition she could admire and desire making her lips follow.
Surprised, Roarke thought for a minute how to answer her. He hadn’t, no. He’d kept in good shape, but not like now. Now he needed to have strength ready to protect and defend what was his. “Maybe not so much,” he answered, stroking her wet hair as she aroused him. He badly wanted to take control of this seduction Eve had initiated, but without knowing what ordeals she had faced, he was hesitant, not sure what Eve needed. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
She laughed, a warm sexy sound he didn’t think he could do without. “Maybe not so much” she teased him. Her fingers continued to touch him, her eyes closed, lips moving in the path of tingling nerves her touch left behind.
Roarke closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiles. Her mouth on him was overwhelming. His heart had sped up, his breathing deepening, muscles tightening. He didn’t want to be passive, it wasn’t in his nature. He wanted to take his wife until she was screaming, then enjoy being inside her until he was screaming with her. His hands formed fists, his jaw clenched. “Eve” he protested, a guttural growl as she followed her hands down his body “Don’t.” She ignored him. He felt like steel, unable to bend, unable to move as she pleasured him. “Christ, you have to stop, baby.” He was desperate. The days without her, the weeks before of being so careful with his fragile wife. And now this passionate assault by a vibrant being he’d expected two hours ago to be more dead than alive. Her mouth was alive on him now. “You’re driving me crazy.” His left hand found the ceiling bar of the shower, his right the bar over the corner soap dispenser. “Stop it, Eve” he begged. Fighting to stop himself, Roarke gritted his teeth, certain his jaw would break. And then she touched him, fingers moving intimately over his body, finding and teasing him as he had done so often to her, bringing her irretrievably to peak as she did to him now. “Eve” Roarke cried out as he climaxed violently pulling the bar from its concrete hold and ripping tiles from their wall as she destroyed him.
Roarke was in the lead, black leather duster swirling around him, both hands holding serious firepower, long silky black hair back in its leather lace, blue eyes as piercing as any laser beam. He obviously didn’t expect to see Eve leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, ankles crossed, waiting patiently - copying the pose he struck so often when lying in wait for her in various medical settings. He skidded to a halt. Davidson rushed past him, Peabody hot on his heels. Both echoed his skid. By the time they’d recovered, Roarke had holstered the weapons somewhere under the coat and snatched Eve in his arms.
Eve sighed, not caring in the least that he had her squeezed so hard to his chest that she could barely breathe, that he was hurting her ribs. She put her face into his throat and curled her fingers around his coat and breathed him in. “You’re late” she accused, ignoring every other distraction. With as much manpower and firepower as she had seen swarming down the hallway behind him, she wasn’t worried about anything but making sure Roarke knew she had known he would find her. “I was getting ready to call you.”
“Had to negotiate a border crossing” he responded. Ignoring the fact that she seemed to be standing comfortably on her own two feet and able to save herself, he scooped Eve into his arms and turned.
Peabody grinned at her. “Hey, Dallas. Mira’s safe.” She blew on her fingernails, buffed them on her flak jacket.
“Thank God.” Eve contentedly rested her head on Roarke’s shoulder, still holding the lapels of the duster. She flashed a smile at McNab and Davidson.
“Secure the building, take charge” Roarke ordered Davidson, then brushed by them and strode back down the corridor. “I don’t know why I worry about you,” he told Eve conversationally, the tremor in his voice too slight for any but his wife to have detected. “Next time you’re abducted I’m just going to stay at the office and get some work done.”
Eve pouted. “You don’t love me anymore.”
“Certainly not in that color of pink.” He handed her up into a massive helicopter, took her back from the army-fatigue-wearing man he’d handed her to and sat them down on one of the two long padded benches in the sleek transport. As the machine revved up, he buckled them both in, and contented his self with kissing her face until his pulse settled and his hands stopped shaking. “Are you all right, darling Eve?”
Eve wasn’t quite sure what he had said over the sound of the helicopter. Unlike Roarke’s jetcopter, this behemoth made so much noise you couldn’t have heard Peabody whining she wanted lunch Eve thought in amusement. She shook her head, resting against him. He held her, his cheek on her hair. For a small while, everything was just as it should be.
And then they reached an airfield and Roarke carried her to a limousine unfortunately holding two men who spoke what Eve assumed was German and seemed to have a lot of questions. Eve took the coward’s way out, faked exhaustion and pretended to sleep snug in Roarke’s hold. Somehow it didn’t surprise her he was able to converse with them in the same language. Outside the hotel there was an impressive mob of media. Roarke seemed to have sent the majority of his troops, she hadn’t had a chance to ask him about that, in to the coma facility, because there weren’t enough at the hotel to keep the mob pushed back while they were trying to get up the front steps and inside.
Seeing a Nadine Furst type who was waving a Coffee Mocha Booster at her, Eve grabbed the recyclable glass tube, opened it, drank and gave a pleased hum as the taste filled her senses. “What” she asked, noting Roarke’s glare as he dragged her inside, squeezing by the lineup of security holding the hotel sacrosanct against the media. “You’re always making me drink them. I haven’t had one in like two weeks.” She hadn’t had coffee either. Mira had been in heaven; the villa had run to fancy teas and water. It had only increased Eve’s desire to get home to her personal coffee connection.
Roarke gave orders in German, spoke to two other men, then holding her close to his side he guided her to the elevator and down a hallway to his suite. Summerset and the cat waited for them.
Eve bent to pet the cat, then stood to consider her arch nemesis. Still feeling put out, Galahad wound around her bare feet. “Count Dracula calls you home here?” She smiled slyly.
His eyes slid up and down her body, covered loosely in the most horrid color of pink anyone could have chosen for her, even with her recent tan, noting she had gained some weight and looked healthy. So their truce was over, Summerset thought in satisfaction. “No, Lieutenant. I came to see if you had pinked up in your complexion.” He thought that was a good one.
Eve narrowed her eyes. “How would you like to donate a pint of blood. Through your nose?”
“I am just happy that Roarke has retrieved you, Lieutenant. While travel is very educational, I’m not sure you are adept enough yet to ask for a burger and beer while abroad.” He smirked.
Before things could deteriorate, Roarke guided Eve toward their room. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll get our supper. Then we can go see Mira and you can reassure her you’re safe.” Roarke followed her into the bathroom, began to pull the scrub top over her head, then tugged the pants down and lifted her out of them as they pooled around her feet. He carefully studied her body, holding her by the shoulders firmly when Eve protested, flushing. He turned her, sighed, wrapped his arms around her. “How can you possibly look better than when you were taken from me?” Relieved, he couldn’t seem to let her go.
Eve leaned her head back against him. “I should probably tell you that I really like that coat you were wearing, ace.”
“Why?” He was petting her now, stroking her hair, face, neck, shoulders, arms. He couldn’t stop touching her. She was back with him. She was here with him.
“Because I’d really like to see you in just the coat.” Eve twisted around, pressed against him, eyes laughing up at him. He actually looked shocked for an instant before his eyes laughed back down at her.
“Whatever would make you happy, darling Eve. I live to please you.” To prove it, he kissed her. When he lifted his head, Roarke studied her eyes. They were soft, looking at him with the love he had never thought to see in a woman he would love back. Something was different in that gaze now. He absently ordered the shower on, holding her eyes with his as he undressed, realizing he couldn’t leave her alone even for a short time. “What’s different about you” he asked, urging her into the water.
Eve closed her eyes, enjoying the hot normal water. “Maybe it’s that I’m finally in good health again” she suggested. His body was hard and strong … and hers. It was time to celebrate life, Eve decided. “Just be still” she ordered and began to touch him with her eyes closed. He was firm under that soft skin. Muscled from daily workouts, either before she got up in the morning or after he got home from work. He’d gained muscle mass in their time together. “Did you use to work-out so much, before me?” Her fingers glided over the muscles of his shoulders, definition she could admire and desire making her lips follow.
Surprised, Roarke thought for a minute how to answer her. He hadn’t, no. He’d kept in good shape, but not like now. Now he needed to have strength ready to protect and defend what was his. “Maybe not so much,” he answered, stroking her wet hair as she aroused him. He badly wanted to take control of this seduction Eve had initiated, but without knowing what ordeals she had faced, he was hesitant, not sure what Eve needed. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
She laughed, a warm sexy sound he didn’t think he could do without. “Maybe not so much” she teased him. Her fingers continued to touch him, her eyes closed, lips moving in the path of tingling nerves her touch left behind.
Roarke closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiles. Her mouth on him was overwhelming. His heart had sped up, his breathing deepening, muscles tightening. He didn’t want to be passive, it wasn’t in his nature. He wanted to take his wife until she was screaming, then enjoy being inside her until he was screaming with her. His hands formed fists, his jaw clenched. “Eve” he protested, a guttural growl as she followed her hands down his body “Don’t.” She ignored him. He felt like steel, unable to bend, unable to move as she pleasured him. “Christ, you have to stop, baby.” He was desperate. The days without her, the weeks before of being so careful with his fragile wife. And now this passionate assault by a vibrant being he’d expected two hours ago to be more dead than alive. Her mouth was alive on him now. “You’re driving me crazy.” His left hand found the ceiling bar of the shower, his right the bar over the corner soap dispenser. “Stop it, Eve” he begged. Fighting to stop himself, Roarke gritted his teeth, certain his jaw would break. And then she touched him, fingers moving intimately over his body, finding and teasing him as he had done so often to her, bringing her irretrievably to peak as she did to him now. “Eve” Roarke cried out as he climaxed violently pulling the bar from its concrete hold and ripping tiles from their wall as she destroyed him.
