"We confiscated discs containing records of every meeting. We've got them sewn up so tight they can't hack their way out of the sack with a broadsword. Give."
"Okay, frig-o. We got some track."
"You found the source?"
"Nothing to it once we cloned. Virus was sent out from the unit confiscated from Dukes's lower level work area. He sent them staggered over a three-day period. He pushed the button on every one of them."
"They brought him in from Albany tonight. He's lawyered up. I'll take him apart tomorrow. Go to bed, kid."
"Got to smash the O's first."
She shrugged. "Whatever." She walked to the door, paused. "Jamie. I was against Roarke bringing you onto the team. I was wrong. You did a stand-up job."
His face brightened like a sun. "Thanks."
She left him to battle the Birds, and went to Roarke's office. He, too, was at his unit, but she doubted he was playing. Whatever his business was, he shut it down when she came in.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant. Where's your team?"
"They were heading to some after-hours place to wind down with a couple of drinks. I passed."
"Then you can have one here with me." He rose to top off his brandy and pour her a glass of wine. "We have your source."
"Yeah, Jamie told me. I stopped by the lab on my way."
"He's still up?"
"Yankees and O's, bottom of the sixth. He's two down, with two out and a runner on first."
"Ah, well then." He gave her the wine. "Did he tell you we also found a number of transmissions? To and from Price and Dwier. And three, so far, from Mayor Peachtree's office 'link. The last coming in the afternoon of your visit to the Dukes house. Text only. It advises Dukes to take a little holiday with his family, and gives a suggestion for the address in Albany. It's carefully worded, but under the circumstances, damning enough."
"I take Dukes and the mayor tomorrow." She sat on the arm of a chair, but didn't drink the wine. "I split up the interviews after the bust. Gave a push at suspects with various team members and combos. Everybody yelled lawyer, like it was their team cheer. I broke some pathetic housewife in under thirty minutes. Spilled her guts while her lawyer's huffing and puffing about duress. Pleaded her down a couple levels to shut him up, and she rolled over like a puppy."
"You stopped them. You shattered them."
"I took in a judge, two other cops-a retired cop who'd put thirty years in. I took in mothers who were almost as panicked about notifying their child care provider as they were about spending the night in a cage. I took in a boy barely old enough to shave, and a woman who won't see a hundred again. She spit on me." Her voice quavered just a bit on that. "She spit on me when we were putting her in the wagon."
Roarke stroked a hand over her hair, and when she turned her head, cradled her face against his side. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too," she murmured. "I just don't know what I'm sorry about. I've got to go to bed." She eased away, stood. "I'll look over the data you and Jamie extracted in the morning."
"I'll be along when I can. I have a meeting shortly."
"A meeting? It's almost three in the morning."
"It's in Tokyo. We'll do a holoconference."
She nodded, then set the untouched wine aside. "Were you supposed to be there? In Tokyo?"
"I can be where I want. And I want to be here."
"I've cut into a lot of your time just lately."
He rubbed a thumb over the shadows under her eyes. "You certainly have, and I expect to be properly recompensed." He touched his lips to her forehead. "Now go to bed. I've work here."
"I could come into midtown sometime, and… consult."
"I'd like to know what I've done to deserve a threat like that."
It helped to smile. "Or, you know, go shopping with you. Help you pick out a suit or something."
"I felt that chill right down to the bone. Go away, Lieutenant."
"Okay. See you later."
"Mmm." And as his holo unit signaled, he watched her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
She woke before dawn, and gauged the time by the quality of the dark. She calculated an hour before daybreak, and thought about trying to zone out again for the best part of that.
She'd slept like a woman in a coma, falling facedown on the bed after stripping down to the skin. She hadn't heard Roarke come to bed. But at least she hadn't dreamed.
She shifted to her side and made out the shape of him. It wasn't often she woke before he did. Because of it she rarely had the opportunity to lay in the dark, in the silence of the house and listen to him sleep.
He slept like a cat, she thought. No, quieter than a cat. The light rumble of snoring she heard was from the other side of the bed where Galahad lay sprawled on his back like roadkill.
It was kind of nice, she decided, with everyone all tucked up safe and warm.
Too nice to waste the best part of the hour she had left for bed sleeping.
She crawled on top of Roarke, found his mouth just where she'd left it. And woke him with heat.
She felt his body throw off sleep. A fingersnap. Brace, assess, relax again.
"Work late?" she asked against his mouth.
"Mmm."
"Sleeping in?"
"Not anymore."
She laughed and scraped her teeth over his jaw. "Just lie back. I'll do the work."
"If you insist."
She was warm and naked and still soft from the night. In the dark before light she moved over him like a dream, all scent and touch and shadow. Her lips and fingers stroked over him, stirring needs that were never quite still.
Her hands cupped his face. Her mouth sank to his.
She sighed into him. He heard something wistful in the sound, and as she lay over him, he traced his hands up and down her back, that long, lean line, as much for comfort as seduction.
His cop, he thought. So troubled. So torn. But here, they were safe and sure. Here, they were right.
He knew, she realized, and turned her face into his throat. He always knew. And the gift of having someone who did, who could, was overwhelming.
"I love you. Roarke. I love you." Her mouth met his again, hotter now, with the first taste of urgency. "I love you. For all the times I forget to say it."
The kiss slid back to sweetness. Her heart beat thick, beat steady against his.
In a long, slow movement, he rolled her to her back. He laid his lips on her collarbone as their legs tangled, as hers parted. He could see her now, the shape of her face, the gleam of her eyes. He slid into her, a satin glide of flesh to flesh. A quick and quiet catch of breath.
Again long, again slow, and deep, with her body rising toward his, with his falling toward hers. She shuddered, and groped for his hands. Their fingers linked; their mouths met.
Overhead, dawn broke.
It was still shy of seven when she studied the data Roarke and Jamie had accessed the night before. She frowned over it, chewed over it. Considered.
"Dukes goes down, all the way down. He has to know it. Essentially, he was the button man. Even without a confession, I'm handing the prosecutor a case he'd have to be a baboon to lose."
"Then why do you look annoyed?"
"I just wonder if this guy knows he was the goat. All along. Whatever, whoever goes down, he takes the heaviest fall. He's the name the media will trumpet, the image of the effigies burned once the crowd turns. If he hadn't figured it out, I might be able to use that to convince him to point the finger at anyone I don't have in the box."
"And they will turn," Roarke agree.
"Yeah they will." She frowned. "Politics," she said softly. "Hell of a game."
She glanced over at Roarke. "I'm going to check out a couple things, then head in to start picking him apart. I want a good chunk of time with him before I pass him to Feeney and move onto Peachtree."