"Yeah, he did his job, no more, no less. Went home at night to his pretty wife and pretty kids, then got up the next morning and did it all over again. No flash. The kind of cop nobody pays a lot of attention to and everybody likes. Nice guy, quiet guy. But IAB was looking at him."
She stopped in front of the wall screen. "They were looking, and they knew about the take. They don't want it coming out. Last time I looked, IAB didn't have a heart, so it's not concern for his grieving widow. So who's covering whose ass?"
"Perhaps they're simply being territorial. If they had him under investigation, they want to close that internal business up themselves."
"Yes, could be. I wouldn't put it past them." But it stuck in her craw. "Dirty or not, I've got a dead cop. And he's mine." She nodded at the screen. "I want to talk to Max Ricker."
"Lieutenant." Roarke moved behind her, rubbed her shoulders. "I have every confidence in your abilities, your intellect, and your instincts. But Ricker is a dangerous man, with a taste for the unpleasant. Particularly where women are involved. You'll appeal to him on several levels, not the least of which is your connection to me."
"Really?" she murmured and turned around.
"We didn't sever our business association on the best of terms."
"So, I can use that. If he's interested, it'll be easier to wade through his lawyers and set up a meet."
"Let me do it."
"No."
"Stop and think. I can get you to him quicker and more directly."
"Not this time, and not this way. You can't change your past," she said, "and he's part of that. But he's not part of your today."
"He's part of yours."
"That's right. Let's try to keep this, if not separate, sort of side by side. If he's part of it, you'll probably know before I do, because you won't leave it alone. But whatever kind of cop Kohli was, I'm the one standing for him now. I'll set up the meet when the time's right."
"Let me look into it a bit first, then you'll have more in your pocket when you do." And he'd have more time to do what needed to be done to keep her away from Ricker.
"Go ahead and look." But she was careful not to agree. "Tell me what you know about him. Give me an inside track."
Troubled, Roarke walked away, poured a brandy. "He's very smooth, educated, and can be charming when it suits him. He's quite vain and enjoys the company of beautiful women. When they please him, he can be very generous. When they displease him…"
Roarke turned, swirling the brandy. "He can and will be brutal. He's the same with his employees and associates. I once saw him slit the throat of a servant over a chipped wine goblet."
"It's hard to get good help these days."
"Isn't it? His main income is through the manufacture and distribution of illegals on a wide scale, but he also dabbles in weapons, assassinations, and sex. He has several high-placed officials in his pocket, which keeps him protected. Within an hour of your contact with him, he'll know whatever there is to know about you. He'll know, Eve, things you would prefer no one knew."
Her gut clenched, but she nodded. "I can handle that. Does he have family?"
"He had a brother. Rumor is Ricker dispensed with him over some sibling dispute. In any case, his body was never discovered. He has a son about my age, perhaps a few years younger. Alex. I never met him as he was living primarily in Germany when I had dealings with Ricker. Word is he's kept close, and insulated."
"Weaknesses?"
"Vanity, arrogance, greed. So far, he's been able to indulge himself in all three with relative impunity. But over the last year or so, there've been rumors. Quiet, very cautious ones, that his mental health is deteriorating, and as a result, some of his businesses are in mild distress. That's one of the avenues I'll explore more carefully."
"If he's involved in Kohli's death, that impunity ends. If he's mentally defective, it won't keep him out of a cage. Do you figure he'll agree to meet me if I make an approach?"
"He'll see you because he'll be curious. And if you take a shot at him, he'll never forget it. He's cold, Eve, and he's patient. If he has to wait a year, ten years, to circle back to you, he will."
"Then if I take a shot at him, I'll have to make it count."
More, Roarke thought as he finished his brandy. If she went after Ricker, Ricker would have to die.
He, too, could be cold. And patient.
– =O=-***-=O=-
She turned to him in the night. It was rare for her to do so unless the dreams were chasing her. When she slept, she slept deep and unprotected. Perhaps she knew he needed it, needed to feel her wrapped around him in the dark, the intimacy of it that stated more truly than words what they'd come to be to each other.
Her mouth found his, offered, while her hands roamed up the solid length of his back, down again to his hips.
They shifted on the wide bed, a tangle of limbs, of warm flesh, of breath beginning to quicken with each touch.
The taste of her-lips, throat, breasts-filled him, as it always did, even as it stirred hunger for more. Her heartbeat under his hand, under his mouth, and her first sign of pleasure trailed off into a quiet moan.
She arched against him, strength and surrender. Opened for him, invitation and demand.
He slipped inside her-hot and wet and waiting-and it was he who moaned as she closed around him. Shadows in the dark, their bodies rose and fell together, a slow, silky rhythm to draw out the night.
Pleasuring her, pleasuring himself, he slipped his hands under her hips, lifted her. Gave her more.
She locked herself around him, rode the edge. And when she felt herself begin to fall, she said his name.
He lifted his head, saw the gleam of her eyes, open, on him. "Eve," he said, and let himself fall with her.
– =O=-***-=O=-
Into the night, in the dark, he lay beside her, listening to her breathe. He knew the varied and sundry reasons a man would kill. But none were more fierce, none were more vital than to hold safe what he loved.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lieutenant Alan Mills caught Eve on her communicator as she was grabbing her second cup of coffee. Her first thought was that he looked as though he could have used a good jolt of caffeine himself.
His eyes were sleepy and irritable, a watery gray in a pale face.
" Dallas. Mills, here. You looking for me."
"That's right. I'm primary on the Kohli homicide."
"Son of a bitch." Mills snorted, sniffed. "I'd like a piece of the dickweed who did Kohli. What have you got?"
"This and that." She wasn't about to share investigative data with a man who looked like he'd yet to roll out of bed and had probably rolled into it with a little chemical enhancement, not strictly departmentally approved. "You and a Detective Martinez worked with Kohli on a task force over the past year. Max Ricker."
"Yeah, yeah." Mills rubbed his face. She could actually hear the scrub brush sound of his stubble against his palm. "Him and about a dozen other cops, and the slick bastard still oozed through the cracks. You think Ricker's tied to this?"
"I'm covering my bases here. I need a picture of Kohli, then maybe I'll get a picture of his killer. You got some time this morning, Mills, maybe you could hook Martinez and meet me at the crime scene. I'd appreciate any input."
"I heard the case was being transferred to our house."
"You heard wrong."
He seemed to digest this information and not find it particularly to his liking. "Kohli was one of ours."
"And now he's mine. I'm asking for some cooperation on this. Are you going to give it to me?"
"I want a look at the scene anyway. When?"
"No time like the present. I'll be at Purgatory in twenty minutes."
"I'll round up Martinez. Probably still taking her siesta. She's a Mex."
He ended transmission and left Eve regarding her communicator thoughtfully before she stuck it in her trouser pocket. "Gee, Mills. Nobody told me you were a complete and total asshole. Go figure."