"I don't have to overcome anything. I don't remember – "
"My stepfather raped me repeatedly from the time I was twelve until I was fifteen," Mira said calmly, and stopped Eve's protest cold. "For those three years I lived never knowing when it would happen, only that it would. And no one would listen to me."
Shaken, sick, Eve wrapped her arms around her body. "I don't want to know this. Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I look in your eyes and see myself. But you have someone who'll listen to you, Eve."
Eve stood where she was, moistened her dry lips. "Why did it stop?"
"Because I finally found the courage to go to an abuse center, tell the counselor everything, to submit to the examinations, both physical and psychiatric. The terror of that, the humiliation of that, was no longer as huge as the alternative."
"Why should I have to remember it?" Eve demanded. "It's over."
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"The investigation – "
"Eve."
The gentle tone had Eve closing her eyes. It was so hard, so trying, to fight that quiet compassion. "Flashbacks," she murmured, hating herself for the weakness. "Nightmares."
"Of before you were found in Texas?"
"Just blips, just pieces."
"I can help you put them together."
"Why should I want to put them together?"
"Haven't you already started to?" Now Mira rose. "You can work with this haunting your subconscious. I've watched you do so for years. But happiness eludes you, and will continue to do so until you've convinced yourself you deserve it."
"It wasn't my fault."
"No." Mira touched a gentle hand to Eve's arm. "No, it wasn't your fault."
Tears were threatening, and that was a shock and an embarrassment. "I can't talk about this."
"My dear, you've already begun to. I'll be here when you're ready to do so again." She waited until Eve had reached the door. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You always ask questions."
"Why stop now?" Mira said and smiled. "Does Roarke make you happy?"
"Sometimes." Eve squeezed her eyes shut and swore. "Yes, yes, he makes me happy. Unless he's making me miserable."
"That's lovely. I'm very pleased for both of you. Try to get some sleep, Eve. If you won't take chemicals, you might use simple visualization."
"I'll keep it in mind." Eve opened the door, kept her back to the room. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Visualization wouldn't be much help, Eve decided. Not after a rescan of autopsy reports. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. She was sorry she'd left the cat with Roarke. At least Galahad would have been company.
Because her eyes burned from studying data, she pushed away from her desk. She didn't have the energy to seek out Mavis, and she was bored senseless with the video offerings on her screen.
She ordered music, listened for thirty seconds, then switched it off.
Food usually worked, but when she poked into the kitchen, she was reminded she hadn't restocked her AutoChef in weeks. The pickings were slim, and she didn't have enough of an appetite to order in.
Determined to relax, she tried out the virtual reality goggles Mavis had given her for Christmas. Because Mavis had used them last, they were set for Nightclub, at full volume. After a hurried adjustment and a great deal of swearing, Eve programmed Tropics, Beach.
She could feel the grit of hot, white sand under her bare feet, the punch of the sun on her skin, the soft, ocean breeze. It was lovely to stand in the gentle surf, watch the swoop of gulls, and sip from an icy drink that carried the zing of rum and fruit.
There were hands on her bare shoulders, rubbing. Sighing, she leaned back into them, felt the firm length of male against her back. Far out on the blue sea a white ship sailed toward the horizon.
It was easy to turn into the arms that waited for her, to lift her mouth to the mouth she wanted. And to lie on the hot sand with the body that fit so perfectly with hers.
The excitement was as sweet as the peace. The rhythm as old as the waves that lapped over her skin. She let herself be taken, shivered as the needs built toward fulfillment. His breath was on her face, his body linked with her when she groaned out his name.
Roarke.
Furious with herself, Eve tore off the goggles and heaved them aside. He had no right to intrude, even here, inside her head. No right to bring her pain and pleasure when all she wanted was privacy.
Oh, he knew what he was doing, she thought as she sprang up to pace. He knew exactly what he was doing. And they were going to settle it, once and for all.
She slammed the apartment door behind her. It didn't occur to her until she was speeding through his gates that he might not be alone.
The idea of that was so infuriating, so devastating, that she took the stone steps two at a time, hit the door with a fresh burst of violent energy.
Summerset was waiting for her. "Lieutenant, it's one twenty in the morning."
"I know what time it is." She bared her teeth when he stepped in front of her to block the staircase. "Let's understand each other, pal. I hate you, you hate me. The difference is I've got a badge. Now get the hell out of my way or I'll haul your bony ass in for obstructing an officer. "
Dignity coated him like silk. "Do I take that to mean you're here, at this hour, in an official capacity, Lieutenant?"
"Take it any way you want. Where is he?"
"If you'll state your business, I'll be happy to determine Roarke's current whereabouts and see if he's available to you."
Out of patience, Eve jammed an elbow in his gut and skirted his wheezing form. "I'll find him myself," she stated as she bounded up the stairs.
He wasn't in bed, alone or otherwise. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that, or what she would have done if she'd found him twined around some blonde. Refusing to think about it, she turned on her heel and marched away toward his office, with Summerset hot on her trail.
"I intend to file a complaint."
"File away," she shot back over her shoulder.
"You have no right to intrude on private property, in the middle of the night. You will not disturb Roarke." He slapped a hand on the door as she reached it. "I will not allow it."
To Eve's surprise, he was out of breath and red-faced. His eyes were all but jittering in their sockets. It was, she decided, more emotion than she'd believed him capable of.
"This really puts your jocks in a twist, doesn't it?" Before he could prevent it, she hit the mechanism and the door slid open.
He made a grab for her, and Roarke, who turned from his study of the city, had the curious surprise of watching them grapple.
"Put a hand on me again, you tight-assed son of a bitch, and I'll deck you." She lifted a fist to demonstrate. "The satisfaction would be worth my badge."
"Summerset," Roarke said mildly. "I believe she means it. Leave us alone."
"She's exceeded her authority – "
"Leave us alone," Roarke repeated. "I'll deal with this."
"As you wish." Summerset jerked his starched jacket back into place and strode out – with only the slightest of limps.
"If you want to keep me out," Eve snapped on her march toward the desk, "you're going to have to do better than that flat-assed guard dog."
Roarke merely folded his hands on the desktop. "If I'd wanted to keep you out, you would no longer be cleared through gate security." Deliberately, he flicked a glance at his watch. "It's a bit late for official interviews."
"I'm tired of people telling me what time it is."
"Well then." He leaned back in the chair. "What can I do for you?"
CHAPTER NINE
Attack was the emotional choice. Eve could justify it as the logical one as well.
"You were involved with Yvonne Metcalf."
"As I told you, we were friends." He opened an antique silver box on the desk and took out a cigarette. "At one time, intimate friends."