He lost his senses, lost his mind as she drove him. Sensations pounded him, too hard, too fast for any defense. As his vision dimmed, he could see her face, and those dark eyes focused so intently on him.
Then he went blind as the pleasure shot through him, a hot bullet, and he emptied himself into her.
They were both still quivering when she slid down to collapse in a sweaty heap beside him on the floor. He could hear, as the roaring in his ears began to subside, her wheezing gasps for air.
It was good to know he wasn't the only one who'd been knocked breathless.
"It's gone dark," he managed.
"Your eyes are closed."
He blinked, just to make sure. "No. It's dark."
She grunted, and still wheezing, flipped to her back. "Oh yeah, it is."
"Funny, with all the beds in this house how often we end up on the floor."
"It's more spontaneous, and primitive." She shifted to rub her butt. "And harder."
"It's all of that. Should I thank you for doing your wifely duty?"
"I object to any term that contains the word 'wifely,' but you can thank me for fucking your brains out."
"Yes, indeed." His heart was still knocking, but he nearly had his wind back. "Thanks for that."
"No problem." She stretched, luxuriously. "I've got to go grab a shower, and put in some time on the case I caught today." She waited two full beats. "Maybe you'd like to give me a hand."
He said nothing for a moment, just continued to contemplate the ceiling. "I must have looked fairly pitiful when you came home. I get sweaty, burn up the carpet sex, and now you voluntarily decide to ask me for help on a case. What would be another word for 'wifely'?"
"Just watch it, pal."
When she sat up, he ran a hand affectionately up her back. "Darling Eve. I'd be happy to give you a hand in the shower, but then I've got some work of my own to see to. This business today's put me behind. But maybe you could tell me about it before we go our separate ways for the next couple hours."
"College girl, part-time clerk at a 24/7," she began as she rose to gather up scattered clothes. "Somebody killed her with a single stab to the heart late last night, and crammed her body into a recycle bin on Delancey, across from where she worked."
"Cold."
"It gets colder."
She told him of the images, the tip to Nadine, as they went upstairs to shower. It helped, she'd discovered, to run through the steps and stages of a case out loud, particularly with an audience who picked up on the nuances.
Roarke never missed a nuance.
"Someone she knew, and trusted," he said.
"Almost has to be. She didn't put up a fight."
"Someone who blends at the college," he added, grabbing a towel. "So if he or she was seen loitering, nothing would be thought of it."
"He-or she-is careful." Out of habit, she stepped into the drying tube and let the warm air swirl. "Methodical," she added, raising her voice. "Tidy. A planner. Mira's going to tell me, when she profiles, that the killer probably holds a job, pays bills in a timely fashion, doesn't make trouble. Has a knack with imaging, so I'm betting it's either a serious hobby or a profession."
"There's something you haven't said," he added as Eve stepped out of the tube. "You haven't said he's already looking for his second."
"Because he's not." She scooped a hand through her hair as she walked into the bedroom. "He's already picked number two. He's already got the first images locked."
She chose ancient gray pants and a sleeveless tank. "The data club might be a trolling spot. I'll see what I find on the security discs and the employee files." She glanced over her shoulders. "You don't happen to own Make The Scene."
"Doesn't ring," he said easily as he put on a fresh shirt. "I've a few data clubs around the city, but most of mine are close to schools or on campus. More traffic, i.e., more profit."
"Hmm. Did you ever go to college?"
"No. School and I had a poor relationship."
"Neither did I. I can't relate. It's like another planet. I'm worried I'll miss something there, if there's anything there, because I can't relate. I mean, take this professor. Why is she teaching Imaging classes? She doesn't need the money, and if she wants to work in Imaging, why not just do that?"
"Those who can't, teach. Isn't there some saying along those lines?"
She gave him a blank look. "If you can't do something, how the hell can you teach somebody else to do it?"
"I haven't the vaguest idea. It may be she enjoys teaching. People do."
"God knows why. People asking questions all the time, looking at you for the answers, for approval, whatever. Dealing with fuck-ups and smartasses and pompous jerks. And all so they can go off and get jobs that pay more than you make to teach them how to get the jobs in the first place."
"Some might say very similar things about cops." He gave the dent in her chin a quick flick with his fingertip. "If you're still at it when I'm done, I'll give you a hand."
She fixed a smirk on her face. "If you're still at it when I'm done, I'll give you a hand."
"That's a very nasty threat."
In her office, Eve headed straight to the kitchen and the AutoChef to order up coffee. At her desk, she loaded the discs from the data club, then absently picked up the statue of the goddess Peabody 's mother had given her.
Maybe it would bring her luck, she thought, and setting it down again, ordered the disc images on screen.
She spent the first hour threading her way though the disc, studying the crowd, the movement. The lighting was poor, dim in corners, harsh and jerky on the dance floor. If she needed to ID anyone specifically, she'd probably need the EDD magicians to clean it up. But for now what she saw was a young crowd, mixing, mingling, cruising.
As advertised Steve Audrey was at the bar until nine when the light show burst into being and the music went from merely loud to eardrum damage. He did his job competently enough, spending a lot of time chatting with the customers, but managing to fill their orders without delays.
Most of the cruisers, male or female, traveled in pairs or packs, she noted. There weren't many solos. The killer. Eve figured, would be alone. He didn't troll with a friend.
She plucked out the few singles she noted, marked the section of the disc.
And there, zeroing in, was Diego. She'd bet the bank on it. Swaggering little guy, slicked up in a red silk shirt and pegged trousers. Heeled boots. Oh yeah, thinks he's a god.
She watched him scan the crowd, pick his marks for the night's hustle.
"Computer, freeze image. Magnify section twenty-five through thirty." She pursed her lips as she studied the face. Dark, handsome, if you went for the macho-slick, pretty-boy type. "Computer, run standard ID program on this image. Get me a full name," she murmured.
It would take time, so she shifted to other work.
Somebody in that club had transmitted those images to Nadine. Someone who'd walked through those lights, those shadows, had plugged that data into one of the units, coded in Nadine's number at 75 and sent it on.
While EDD went over the stations, picked their way through the drives until they found the echoes, whoever had killed Rachel Howard was preparing for the next portrait.
I am so full of energy. It can't be an exaggeration to say I've been transformed. Even reborn. She is in me now, and I can feel herlifeinside me. The way a woman must feel with a child in her womb. And yet, more than that. More. For this is not something that needs me to live, that needs to grow and develop. She is whole and complete in me.
When I move, she moves. When I breathe, she breathes. We are one now, and we are forever.
I have given her immortality. Is there any greater love?
How amazing it was, with her eyes locked on mine in that moment when I stopped her heart. I could see in them that all at once she knew. She understood. And how she rejoiced when I drew her essence inside me so her heart would beat again.