Reunion in Death (19 page)

With one fearful look at her lieutenant, Peabody took off.

"You." Eve crooked a finger at the boy. "Come down here."

"Boy, that blood looks real. That's iced."

His face wavered and split again, so she snarled at both of him. "You little schmuck, you just assaulted a police officer in pursuit of a suspect."

He hunkered down and lowered his voice. "Are we still on camera?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Where do you learn to do stunts like that anyway? How come you don't get hurt when you fall?"

"I am hurt, you stupid little-" She bit off the rest, fought to keep her vision from going from wavey gray to solid black. He couldn't have been more than ten, and his cheerful face was beginning to show some fear and confusion.

"Like for real hurt, or on the vid hurt?"

"This isn't a video."

"But she said it was a vid. And when you came running after her, I should slam right into you on my board. I got fifty dollars. And I get fifty more if I did a good job."

Two uniforms pushed through the crowd, ordering people back. "You need medical attention, Lieutenant?"

"Did you get her?"

They looked at each other, then down at Eve. "Sorry, sir. We lost her. We've got foot and vehicular patrols doing a sweep. We may get her yet."

"No." Eve dropped her head onto her knees as a vicious wave of nausea churned in her belly. "You won't."

"Are you really a cop?" The kid tugged Eve gingerly on the sleeve. "Am I in trouble? Man, my mom's going to kill me."

"Get a statement from this kid, then take him home." The sea rushed in again, ebbed again, but she got shakily to her feet.

"Sir." Red-faced, sweaty, and panting like a dog, Peabody limped up. "I'm sorry. I never even caught sight of her. We've got a net out, but..."

"Yeah, she's blown."

"You better sit down." Peabody grabbed Eve's arm when she swayed. "I'll call the MTs."

"I don't want the frigging MTs."

"You're really banged up."

"I said I don't want them. Back off." She started to pull free, watched Peabody's worried face turn to triplets. "Ah, shit," she managed, and actually felt her own eyes roll back in her head before she passed out.

CHAPTER 15

The next thing she knew she was flat out on the sidewalk and a couple of medical technicians were hulking over her.

"I said no."

One ran a sensor wand over her face. "Didn't break the jaw or cheekbone. Lucky. Looks like she was hit in the face with a fistful of bricks."

"Get away from me."

They both ignored her, which concerned her a great deal. When she tried to sit up, she was held down easily.

"Shoulder's sprained, ribs bruised. No cracks. Damn lucky. Lost a lot of skin, too. Good solid brain rattle here. What's your name?"

"Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and if you touch me, I'll kill you."

"Yep, knows who she is. How's the vision, Lieutenant?"

"I see you well enough, asshole."

"And she's maintained her young, girlish charm. Follow the light. Just your eyes, don't move your head."

"Dallas." Peabody eased down. "You're really hurt. You've got to let them work on you."

"You called them after I told you not to. I can bust you down to a scooper for this."

"I don't think you'd say that if you could see what you look like."

"Think again."

"The light, Lieutenant." The MT took her jaw to keep her head still. "Follow the light."

She cursed him first, then followed the light. "Now let me up."

"I let you up, you're going to fall down again. You've got a concussion, a jammed shoulder, bruised ribs, gashed hip, assorted contusions and lacerations in addition to a face that looks like you rammed it into the back end of a maxibus. We're transporting you to the hospital."

"No, you're not."

Peabody glanced up, let out a relieved breath. "I wouldn't bet on that," she commented and shifted aside as Roarke knelt down.

"What is this?" Annoyance made way for panic. "Peabody, you are cooked."

"Quiet," Roarke ordered with such casual confidence both MTs goggled at him as if he were a god. "How bad is she?" he demanded.

The run-through of injuries was a great deal more coherent and professional, ending with the recommendation that the victim be transported to the nearest hospital for treatment and evaluation.

"I'm not going."

"You are." He feathered his fingers over her battered face, and a sick anger settled in his gut. "She needs something for the pain."

"Roarke-"

"Do you think I can't see it?" he snapped out, then drew himself back and shifted tactics. "Be a brave little soldier, darling, and let the nice MTs do what they must. If you're very good, I'll buy you some ice cream."

"I'll kick your ass for this."

"I look forward to you being able to try."

She struggled, catching the glint of a pressure syringe. "I don't want that shit. It makes me stupid. I took a spill, that's all. Where's that kid? I'm going to stomp all over his little freckled nose."

Roarke leaned over until his face filled her vision. "You let a kid take you down?" He saw immediately that the question, the amused tone of it had done the job. She stopped struggling to glare at him.

"Listen, ace-damn it, damn it!" She bucked once when she felt the faint nip of the syringe.

"Relax and enjoy it," he suggested. He felt the tension spill out of the hand he held. "That's the way."

"Think you're so smart." Body and mind began to float. "But you're more pretty. So pretty. Give me a kiss. Love that mouth. Like to bite it."

He kissed her limp hand instead. "She won't give you any more trouble."

"Bet I flew ten feet. Whee." She rolled her head to the side as she was lifted onto a gurney. "Hey, Peabody! Outta uniform. You got no shoes."

"Ditched them on the run. You're going to be okay, Dallas."

"Fucking-A. But I'm not going to any lame hospital. No, sir. Going home now. Where's Roarke? We're going home now, okay?"

"Eventually."

"That's right," she said, decisively, then slid under before they'd loaded her into the ambulance.

...

"She's going to be really mad when she comes out of it," Peabody said as she paced the ER waiting room.

"Oh yes." Roarke tapped his fingers against the side of the coffee cup. He'd yet to drink. "You did exactly right, Peabody, by calling the MTs, and me."

"Maybe you wouldn't mind mentioning that when she's lunging for my throat later. I don't know how she got up to pursue in the first place. That guy, he was big as a gorilla, and he flattened her. Probably jammed her shoulder when she rammed it into his groin. There I am, fumbling for my off-duty in this stupid little purse, and she's already taken him down and cuffed him. I should've been faster."

"I'd say you were quick enough. How are the feet?"

She curled up her toes. She had stripped off her ruined hose in the ladies' room. "Nothing a soak and a rub won't fix. Too bad about the shoes though. They were new and totally mag. Even without them I couldn't keep up with Dallas. She's like lightning."

"Long legs," he replied and thought of the blood he'd seen staining her trousers as she'd lain on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, she'd've apprehended if it hadn't been for the kid with the airboard. You can't beat her. She's-" She broke off, jittery when the ER doctor swung out.

"You're the husband?" the doctor asked with a nod to Roarke.

"Yes. How is she?"

"Spitting mad-I think she has some very ominous plans for you. And if you happen to be Peabody, you're in on them."

"She's okay." Peabody let out a gush of air. "That's great."

"She took a hard blow to the head. She's concussed, but that appears to be the worst of it. We've treated her shoulder, but she should refrain from lifting with it or any other strenuous activities for a couple of days, minimum. Her hip's going to give her some trouble, as are the ribs. But minimal blockers should relieve the discomfort there. We've patched up the cuts, cold-packed the bruises, the worst of which are facial. I'd like to keep her overnight for observation. In fact, I'd like to keep her for forty-eight hours."

"I can surmise her opinion of that idea."

"Mmm. A head injury of this nature is nothing to be trifled with. Her other injuries are serious enough to warrant an overnight. She needs to be observed and monitored."

"And will be, but at home. She's phobic about hospitals. I can assure you she'll recover more quickly, and easier on all concerned, at home. I've a doctor I can call on to make sure of it. Louise Dimatto."

"The Angel of Canal Street." The doctor nodded. "I'll sign her out, but I'm going to give you very specific instructions for her observation and care, and I'd like a followup from Dr. Dimatto."

"Agreed, and thank you."

"Treatment Room Three," she added as she walked away.

When he walked back a few minutes later, Eve was trying and failing to pull her boots on. "When I get these on, I'm using them to kick your balls into your throat."

"Darling, this isn't the time to think about sex." He walked to the examination table, lifted her chin with a fingertip. Her right cheek was a nightmare of bruising in colors already going sickly. Her right eye was swollen to a reddened, puffy slit. Her mouth was raw.

"Lieutenant." He touched his lips to her forehead. "You've been well and truly bashed."

"You let them give me drugs."

"I did."

"And haul me in here."

"Guilty." His fingers slipped around to the back of her head, gently measured the lump. "Your head may be hard, but even it has its limits. And let's just say I lost mine when I saw you lying there, bruised and bleeding."

"Peabody's going to fry for tagging you over this."

"She is not." On that single statement his voice went firm with command. "She's been out there pacing her poor, sore feet off worrying over you. So you'll go easy on her."

"You telling me my job now?"

"No, just your heart. She thinks if she'd been faster, you might not be here."

"That's bullshit. I had the lead, but she stayed in pursuit, even in those idiot shoes."

"Exactly so. You wouldn't happen to know what size she wears, would you?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind, I'll take care of it. Ready to go home?"

She slid off the table, but didn't object to having his hand support her. "Where's my ice cream?"

"You didn't behave, so there'll be no treat for you."

"That's just mean."

...

She was furious when she learned he'd called Louise in, but when she weighed that against the possibility of Roarke enlisting Summerset as a field MT, it was easier to swallow.

Especially when Louise walked into the bedroom carrying an enormous bowl of double chocolate chunk ice cream.

"Give me that."

"You get it after I get your word you won't give me any trouble during the examination."

"I've already had an examination."

Saying nothing, Louise scooped up a spoonful and slipped it between her own lips.

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Hand over the ice cream, and nobody gets hurt."

Louise passed Eve the bowl, then sat on the side of the bed, propped her medical bag in her lap. She pursed her lips as she studied Eve's face. "Ouch," she said.

"That your medical opinion, Doc?"

"It's a start. From the look of it, I'd say you're lucky he didn't shatter your cheekbone."

"I just knew this was my lucky day. It's not so bad now," she added over a mouthful of chocolate. "Those cold packs sting like a bitch, but they work. Roarke's being pissy about this, and he's got me outnumbered. So if you'd just clear me so I could get up and do some work-"

"Sure." Louise gestured.

Suspicious but game, Eve swung her legs off the bed, even managed to stand on them. For about three seconds before her head exploded and began to spin. Louise caught the ice-cream bowl handily as Eve dropped back on the bed.

"Some doctor you are."

"Yes, I am, and efficient with it. That just saved both of us arguing time."

Prone, Eve pursed her sore lips. "I don't think I like you anymore."

"I don't know how I'm going to go on with my life knowing that. You'll stay put until I tell you otherwise." She pulled a palm unit out of her bag, called up the copy of Eve's chart. "You don't know how long you were unconscious?"

"How the hell should I know? I was unconscious."

"Good point. I'm going to run some scans, give you a second round of cold packs. I can give you something for the discomfort."

"I don't want chemicals. Deal's off if you pull out a syringe."

"That's fine. I'd rather not give you anything with the concussion. We'll use external blockers there to take the edge off that whopper of a headache you must have."

She went back into her bag, calling out a "Come in," at the knock on the bedroom door.

"Excuse me." Sam stepped just inside the threshold. "Roarke said I should come up as I might be of some help."

"Are you a medical?" Louise asked.

"No, not a medical. I'm Sam, Delia's father."

"We're okay here," Eve said carefully, and set the bowl aside. "She's doing whatever she's got to do."

"Yes, of course." He backed up awkwardly.

"A healer then?" Louise asked, studying him with interest.

"I'm a sensitive." His gaze was drawn to Eve's face again, and pity for the pain rose in him.

"Empathic?"

"A bit." He shifted his soft eyes to Louise, smiled. "Medicals rarely put any stock in sensitives or empaths."

"I like keeping my mind and options open. Louise Dimatto." She rose to step off the platform and offer a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sam."

"Why don't you two go have a drink downstairs," Eve said dryly. "Get acquainted."

"Unfortunately"-Louise glanced back over her shoulder-"I can't say her rudeness is a result of her injuries. She was born that way. Obviously a genetic defect beyond the scope of medical science."

"If you can't be rude in your own bedroom, where can you?" Eve picked up the bowl again, sulked over it.

"If I could just have a private word with her?" Sam asked.

"Sure. I'll just step outside."

When they were alone, Sam walked up to the bed. "You're in considerable pain."

"I've had worse."

"Yes, I'm sure you have." He lowered himself to the side of the bed. "You don't want chemical blockers, and while I'm sure Dr. Dimatto can relieve some of the discomfort externally, I can do more. It won't happen again, Eve," he said before she could speak. "Because I'm prepared. I know you're not sure if you can trust that, but you can. I don't lie, and I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure of your privacy."

She pushed at her ice cream with the spoon. No, he didn't lie. "Will what you can do get me on my feet faster?"

"It should, especially in conjunction with the medical."

"Okay. Let's just get it done. I've got work."

...

It was mortifying as neither the healer nor the medical had bothered to mention she'd have to strip down to the skin for the exam and treatment. They discussed her anatomy as if she were a science droid in a lab, so that she finally shut her eyes in defense. She jerked at the first touch of fingertips, at the spread of cool, then of warmth along the blade of her hip that had rudely met pavement, twice.

The palm of another hand pressed to her injured cheek, and she clenched her teeth. But the sting passed, and she was floating. Not like the ride on blockers that was like a giddy trip on a carousel, but like a weightless drift on a cloud.

She could hear them speaking, but their voices were insubstantial.

"She's gone under," Louise said quietly. "You're very good."

"Her hip's causing her a great deal of pain. Most people would be screaming."

"She's not most people, is she? If you'll work on that, I'll deal with the head injury. I think we can get the swelling down a bit more."

"Will I be in the way?"

Roarke. At the sound of his voice, Eve struggled to surface.

"No, shh. Lie still," he told her. "I'm right here."

Because he was, she let go again.

When next she woke, it was dark. There was a terrible moment when she thought she'd gone blind. Even as she tried to sit up, she saw a shadow move and knew it was him. "What time is it?"