"Adorable. Put your head back, Eve, and let the nice MT bandage it for you."
"Okay, sure. Hiya, Peabody, you and McNab out on the town?"
"He drugged her," Roarke explained. "Tranqs always do this to her."
"How bad are you hurt?'' White-faced and shaken, Peabody knelt down. "Dallas, how bad?"
"Oh." She gestured widely, and managed to slap the long-suffering MT. "Bumps and stuff. Boy, did I fly. Let me tell you, the up part can be pretty cool, but those landings suck space waste. Wham!" To demonstrate she attempted to slam her fist on her knee, missed and caught the medic in the crotch. "Oops, sorry," she said when he folded. "Hey, Peabody, how's my vehicle?"
"It's a dead loss."
"Damn. Well, good night." She wrapped her arms around Roarke, nestled into him, and sighed.
The MT sucked his breath back then got shakily to his feet. "That's the best I can do for her here. She's all yours."
"Indeed she is. Come on, darling, let's go."
"Did you save me some pizza? I don't want you carrying me, okay? It's embarrassing. I can walk fine."
"Of course you can," he assured her and hefted her into his arms.
"See, told you." Her head dropped on his shoulder like lead. "Mmm. You smell good." She sniffed at his throat like a puppy. "Isn't he pretty?" she said to no one in particular. "He's all mine, too. All mine. Are we going home?"
"Mmm-hmm." There was no need to mention the detour he intended to take to the nearest hospital.
"I need Peabody to stay for… I need her to stay for something. Yeah, for follow-up, get those bomb guys to spill it, Peabody."
"Don't worry about it, Dallas. We'll have a full report for you in the morning."
"Tonight. 'S only the shank of the evening."
"Tomorrow," Roarke murmured, shifting his gaze from Peabody to McNab. "I want to know everything there is to know."
"You'll have it," McNab promised. He waited until Roarke carried Eve through the crowd, then turned to study the car. "If she'd been inside when it went up…"
"She wasn't," Peabody snapped. "Let's get to work."
Eve woke to silence. She had a vague recollection of being poked and prodded, and of swearing at someone – at several someones – during a physical examination. So her waking thought was panic, laced with fury.
No way were they keeping her in the damn hospital another five minutes.
She shot up in bed, and her head did one long, giddy reel. But it was relief that settled over her when she realized she was in her own bed.
"Going somewhere?" Roarke rose from the sitting area where he'd been keeping one eye on the scrolling stock reports on the monitor and one eye on his sleeping wife.
She didn't lay back. That was a matter of pride. "Maybe. You took me to the hospital."
"It's a little tradition of mine. Whenever my wife's been in an explosion, I like to make a quick trip to the hospital." He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes keen on her face, and held up three fingers. "How many do you see?"
She remembered more now – being awakened half a dozen times through the night and seeing his face looming over her while he asked that same question. "How many times are you going to ask me that?"
"It's become a habit now. It'll take me a while to break it. How many?"
"Thirty-six." She smiled thinly when he simply continued to stare. "Okay, three. Now get your fingers out of my face. I'm still mad at you."
"Now I'm devastated." When she started to shift he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Stay."
"What do I look like, a cocker spaniel?"
"Actually, there's a resemblance around the eyes." He kept his hand firmly in place. "Eve, you're staying in bed through the morning."
"I am not – "
"Think of it this way. I can make you." He reached out, caught her chin in his hand. "Then you'd be humiliated. You really hate that. Think how much easier it would be on your pride and ego if you decided to stay in bed a couple more hours."
They were fairly well matched physically, and Eve figured they were about even in takedowns. But there was a look in his eyes that warned he'd make good on his threat. And she wasn't feeling quite her best.
"Maybe I wouldn't mind staying in bed a couple hours, if I had some coffee."
The hand on her shoulder slid up to her cheek. "Maybe I'll get you some." He leaned forward to kiss her lightly, then found himself holding her tight against him, burying his face in her hair, rocking as every thought and fear he'd held back during the night flooded free. "Oh God."
The emotions that poured out of him in those two words swamped her. "I'm all right. Don't worry. I'm all right."
He thought he'd dealt with it, thought that through the long night he'd conquered this sick, shaky sensation in his gut. But it shot back now, overwhelmingly strong. His only defense was to hold her. Just hold.
"The explosion came through Peabody's communicator – loud and clear." As his system began to settle again, he laid his cheek against hers. "There was a long, timeless period of blind terror. Getting there, then getting through the chaos. Blood and glass and smoke." He ran his hands briskly up and down her arms as he drew back. "Then I heard you, sniping at the MT, and life snapped back into place for me." He did kiss her now, lightly. "I'll get your coffee."
Eve studied her hands as Roarke walked across the room. The scrapes and abrasions had been treated, and treated well. There was barely a mark left to show for their violent meeting with asphalt. "No one ever loved me before you." She lifted her gaze to his as he sat on the bed again. "I didn't think I'd ever get used to it, and maybe I won't. But I've gotten to depend on it."
She took the coffee he offered, then his hand. "I was giving the MT grief because he wouldn't get me a communicator. I had to get one to call you, to tell you I was okay. It was the first thing I thought of when I came to… Roarke. That was the first thing in my head."
He brought their joined hands to his lips. "We've gone and done it, haven't we?"
"Done what?"
"Become a unit."
It made her smile. "I guess we have. Are we okay now?"
"We're fine. Clear liquids were recommended as your upon awakening meal, but I imagine we'd like something more substantial."
"I could eat the best part of a cow still on the hoof."
"I don't know that we have that particular delicacy in the pantry, but I'll see what I can come up with."
It wasn't so bad, she decided, this being tended to. Not when it included breakfast in bed. She plowed her way through a mushroom and chive omelette made from eggs laid by pampered brown hens.
"I just needed fuel," she managed over a bite of a cinnamon bagel. "I feel fine now."
Roarke chose one of the thumb-sized raspberries from her breakfast tray. "You look amazingly well under the circumstances. Have you any idea how a bomb was planted in your official unit?"
"I've got a couple of theories. I need to -" She broke off, frowned a little when a knock sounded on the door.
"Peabody, I imagine. She'd be prompt." He went to the door himself to let her in.
"How is she?" Peabody whispered. "I thought they might have kept her overnight at the hospital."
"They might have, but then she'd have hurt me."
"No whispering," Eve called out. "Peabody, I want a report."
"Yes, sir." Peabody crossed over to the bed, then grinned from ear to ear. The woman in a red silk nightie, settled back on a mountain of pillows in a huge bed, a tray loaded with food on fine china settled over her lap, was not the usual image of Eve Dallas. "You look like something out of an old movie," she began. "You know, like… Bette Crawford."