"I appreciate it. Did Eve send you?"

"No, but she knows I intended to talk with you. I haven't seen her yet today, though I intend to do that as well. I know she was injured last evening." "She's resilient. Not quite as much as she likes to think, but she springs back somehow or other. Bruised damn near top to toe. All but cracked her head open like an egg. Would have, if it wasn't made of rock."

"Which is one of the reasons you love her." "True enough."

"And still you worry. Being married to a cop is an enormous commitment of restraint. She understands that, which is one of the reasons she tried to resist, or deny what she felt for you. One of them." Mira reached out to cover his hand. "And another reason was her father. She told me you've been to Dallas."

"Good. It's good she can talk with you about it."

"And you can't." She could feel the tension gather in him like a bruise. "Roarke, you've spoken frankly with me before. There aren't many who know the circumstances of this. There aren't many you can speak with."

"What do you want me to say? It isn't my nightmare, but hers." "Of course it's yours. You love her."

"Yes, I love her, and I'll stand with her. I'll do whatever can be done- which is bloody little. I know talking to you from time to time can settle her mind. I'm grateful for that."

"She's concerned for you."

"She's no need to be." He could feel the anger rising into his throat, bit back on it. Felt it bleed. "Nor have you. But it was kind of you to take the time to come by."

She saw the cool dismissal on his face, a thin veil of it over the heat. She set her tea aside, smoothed the skirt of her pale blue suit.

"All right. I'm sorry to have interrupted your day. I won't keep you any longer."

"Bloody hell!" He lunged to his feet. "What's the point in spilling my guts out here? What good will it do her?" Mira sat where she was, picked up her tea again. "It might do you some."

"How?" He spun back around, frustrated fury alive on his face. "It changes nothing. Do you want to hear how I stood there and watched her suffer, watched her remember it, and feel it as if it were happening still? She was helpless and terrified and lost, and watching her, so am I. I go after what comes for me, and I make a habit of going after it first. And this..."

"This can't be gone after, not the way you mean." How difficult for him, she thought, this man who looks like, thinks like, a warrior to stand without a lance to protect what he values most.

"It can't be changed," she added, "it can't be stopped because it's already done. So it preys on you, just as it does on her."

"Sometimes she screams in the night." He sighed. "Sometimes she only whimpers, like a small animal might when it's afraid, or in pain. And sometimes she sleeps easy. I can't go inside her dreams and kill him for her."

Professional objectivity couldn't stand against the tidal wave of his emotion, or the flood of her own. Tears gathered in her throat as she spoke. "No, you can't, but you're there when she wakes. Do you understand what a difference you've made for her? How you've given her the courage to face her past? And the compassion to accept yours."

"I know, realistically, we are what we are because of what we were, and what we've made of that. I believe in fate, in destiny, and also in giving fate a good twist of the arm when it's not going your way."

When she smiled at that, he felt his shoulders relax. "I know what's done is done, but it doesn't stop me from wishing I could go back and use these on him." He balled his fists, then spread his fingers out again.

"I'd say that was a very healthy attitude." "Would you?"

"I hope so as I often feel the same myself. I love her, too."

He looked at her, that serene face, those eyes so filled with quiet understanding. "Yes, I see you do." "And you."

He blinked once, slowly, as if translating some foreign tongue. With a soft laugh, she got to her feet.

"The pair of you always seem so baffled and suspicious when offered free affection. You're a good man, Roarke," she said and kissed his cheek. "Not really."

"Yes, really. I hope you'll be comfortable coming to me, speaking with me if you ever feel the need. I'll let you get back to your meetings. I'm already late for one of my own."

He walked her to the door. "Does anyone manage to resist you?" She winked. "Not for long."

CHAPTER 17

Hacking through red tape with the finesse and subtlety of a chainsaw, Eve tracked down the private shuttle Julianna hired for her trip to and from Denver. Diamond Express advertised itself as the fastest and most luxurious private charter company servicing the continental U.S.

A quick check showed her there was little truth in advertising as they were a solid third in the ratings, behind two of Roarke's companies.

Julianna wasn't bold enough to hire one of his, Eve mused as she navigated around shuttles, cargo vehicles, and trams winding around the Diamond Express hangars.

The headache was back, a hammer punch on the back of her skull where it had met pavement. She felt a desperate need for a nap, which told her she'd have to take a short break soon or end up flat on her face.

"What's the pilot's name again?"

"It's Mason Riggs." Peabody shifted, took another look at Eve's profile. "You feeling okay-don't get pissed off. It's just you're looking a little pale and shiny."

"What the hell does that mean? Shiny?" Eve parked, eased over to examine herself in the rearview mirror. Damn, she did look shiny. "It's summer, it's hot. People sweat. And no, I'm not feeling okay. Let's just do this."

"I'm driving back."

With one leg out of the car, Eve swiveled around. "What did you say?"

"I said," Peabody repeated, courageously laying her life on the line, "I'm driving back. You shouldn't be behind the wheel, and I promised Louise I'd make you take breaks when you got shaky."

Very slowly, Eve took off the sunshades she'd worn as a concession to the glare, the headache, and the appearance of her bruised face.

The black eye only added an edge to the drilling stare. "Make me?"

Peabody swallowed, but stuck firm. "You don't scare me-hardly- because you're pale and shiny. So I'll take the wheel when we're done here. You can put the seat back and catch a nap. Sir."

"Do you think adding 'sir' on the end of that is going to save you from my considerable wrath?"

"Maybe, but I'm more confident I can outrun you in your current state of health." She held up two fingers. "How many do you see?" "The two I'm going to rip off and stuff in your ears."

"Oddly, it reassures me to hear that, Lieutenant."

With a sigh, Eve pushed herself out of the car. The noise screaming out of the hangar lanced straight through her skull. Hoping to avoid going in and having her head fall off, she signalled to a woman wearing coveralls emblazoned with Diamond's logo.

"I'm looking for Pilot Riggs," Eve shouted. "Mason Riggs."

"That's his shuttle getting its weekly maintenance." The woman jerked a thumb toward the mouth of the hangar. "He's either in there guarding his baby or in the break room."

"Where's the break room?"

"Second door down on the left. Sorry, but the hangar and the break room are employees-only areas. You want I can page him for you."

Eve pulled out her badge. "I'll just page him with this. Okay?"

"Sure." The woman held up her gloved hands, palms out. "Wouldn't go in there without ear protectors. Against safety regs." She flipped up the top on a crate, brought out two clunky sets. "It's murder without them."

"Thanks." Eve fit them on and immediately felt relief from the shrieking noise.

She headed inside. The hangar held three shuttles at the moment, each covered with a swarm of mechanics who were either wielding complicated- looking tools or holding conversations in sign language.

She spotted two uniformed pilots, one male, one female, and crossed into the heart of the hangar. The noise was like a whooshing wave through the ear protectors, and there was a smell of fuel, of grease, and someone's spicy meatball sandwich.

The latter made her stomach sit up and beg. She had a weakness for meatballs.

She tapped the male pilot on the shoulder. He was vid-star handsome, with the caramel-colored skin of a mixed-race heritage smooth and tight over sharp bones.