Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 41 - Devoted in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
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When the elevator opened to the bedroom, and Roarke stood there unbuttoning his shirt, well, she lost her breath.
His hair fell nearly to his shoulders, a black silk frame for a face created to steal the breath, to weaken the knees, to capture the heart. It had done all to her, and more.
There were times like this when he looked at her, just looked, and those perfectly sculpted lips curved, those eyes - wilder, bluer than any sea - lit with what she knew was love, it wasn't just more. It was all.
***
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She thought of Roarke again, and how easily she'd agreed to accept his offer of help on an official investigation.
Trust, she realized. Not just attraction, not just passion, not just a mutual goal. There had to be trust to work as a team.
With that in mind she went back to her desk to review her notes.
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***
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She took the boots, sat down. Felt the warmth, the solid support the minute her feet were inside.
— Do you know how many pairs of boots I had before I met you?
He only smiled as she rose, reached for her weapon harness - which told her he undoubtedly did.
— Two, and one pair didn't really count as they were emergency use only because they were trashed. I still caught the bad guys.
— You did. Now you get to catch them with more comfortable and stylish feet.
She took the jacket from him, put it on and began to stow what she needed in various pockets. — You know I married you for sex and coffee, not boots.
— Isn't it nice, then, to have the bonus?
This time she grabbed his face, kissed him.
— Yeah.
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***
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Nodding, Banner took a hit of caffeine. His eyes went wide and glassy.
— Sweet Baby Jesus, what is this? Is this New York coffee?
— Not exactly. It's real coffee. I've got a connection.
— Real coffee.
He said it like a prayer, with awe and reverence.
Remembering her first taste of Roarke's coffee, she smiled.
— Need a minute?
— It could take days.
He smiled back, and she saw, beneath the fatigue, a great deal of charm.
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***
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— It takes a long time to cope. It takes a lot to cope with that. Some never get there.
It put a hole in her belly remembering how close she'd been to never getting there.
— I don't think I would have gotten there without you. I wouldn't have gotten there, even with Mira, without you.
— Now you've done it, he murmured. Cops or no.
He wrapped one arm around her, then the other.
— You got there. We both did. And I wouldn't change a moment of the time, good or bad, we've had together since I first turned and locked eyes on you. What a jolt that was through me.
He touched his lips to her brow.
— I've never recovered.
— Not even a minute of change?
— Not one.
— Because change one, change all.
— Now you've remembered.
— Okay.
She breathed deep, pulled back.
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***
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— You always think, this is the worst. It can't be worse than this. You have to think it, or you can't do the job. You have to think it even knowing there's going to be worse. So far, this is the worst. Hearing them tell it, how they enjoyed it, how they needed it, how they got off on it - and that was how they defined love.
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 41.5 - Wonderment in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
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It shouldn’t have surprised her to see the ridiculously handsome Irishman sitting on the top of the three steps leading to the front door.
— I believe you just broke several traffic laws, Lieutenant.
— Maybe.
She stood at the base of the steps just looking at him, the way the wind ran through that black silk hair, the way that beautifully sculpted mouth curved just for her.
She wondered how many people could claim to have a spouse, a partner, a lover sitting out on a cold, windy January night waiting for them. Not many. And if you added in how gorgeous that spouse, partner, lover looked doing it, that number whittled down to one.
Just her.
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 42 - Brotherhood in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
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— Her husband forgave her—or they’re working for that. Could you?
— Could I what?
— Forgive that. I mean, it’s never going to happen, but hypothetically if, say, Roarke and I lost our minds for one wild night and had hot, crazed sex involving many multiple orgasms, then came to our senses and begged your forgiveness. Owned it, you know? Could you forgive us?
Eve drove in silence a moment.
— Well, it would be hard. It would be work, but marriage is work. So’s partnership. I think I could. It would take time and that work, but I think I could forgive both of you. After I boiled you in big vats to make it easier to peel the skin, very slowly and carefully, off your bones while I danced to the music of your agonized screams. Then I made you watch while I fashioned people suits out of your skins for a couple of sparring droids I would then beat into rubble that I’d bury along with your quivering, skinless bodies in unmarked graves. After that, Eve said with a considering nod, I think I could forgive you.
— That’s good to know. It’s good to know the conditions. Except, I don’t think you can fashion people suits because you don’t know how to sew.
— I’d learn. For something this important, I’d learn.
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***
— You believe a former United States senator was a serial rapist?
— Yeah, I do. Eve heaved out a breath. Yeah, I fucking do. That’s how it lays out for me. Proving it? That’s a whole different ball of string.
— Wax, but never mind that. Eve, trying to prove it is going to take you into very dangerous waters.
— I’m a strong swimmer.
— You are that, he agreed. But it’s also going to bring you personal pain.
— I can’t let that get in the way. You know that.
— I do. He set the tube aside, went to her. I love you.
She shifted.
— Yeah, same goes.
He cupped her face in his hands, kept his eyes on hers.
— I love you.
Her heart stuttered, so she cupped his face in turn.
— I love you, and what you’re telling me is we’ll get through this.
— I am.
— Even if you end up pouring a soother down my throat.
— That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Firmly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. You’ll do what has to be done, and so will I.
***
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She couldn’t stop the shaking, but made herself look into his eyes. Anger, yes, some anger in there, and the kind of desperation she understood too well.
— I’m okay. I’m sorry.
— Don’t apologize. It’ll piss me off.
He grabbed the throw from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around her, rubbed her back, her arms while the cat bumped his head against her hip.
— You’re cold.
Then he wrapped his arms around her and rocked.
— I swear, you stopped breathing for a moment. Just stopped. You’ll have a soother.
— I...
— Don’t argue about it, you’re having one. I’m having a bloody soother myself.
She said nothing when he got out of bed, but sat, shivering under the cashmere throw, stroking the cat. They’d have tried to wake her, she thought, her husband and her cat, but she’d been in too deep.
Roarke lit the fire first to add more light and warmth to the room, then moved to the AutoChef.
— You need the soother, he said more calmly. You haven’t had a nightmare that... intense in some time
— Soothers all around. She fought to make her voice sound normal. Maybe the cat needs one.
— He’s his own soother.
Roarke brought two glasses back to the bed, handed her one, gave the loyal Galahad a rub.
— He’s fine now, though I’ll say he was nearly as shaken as I. Drink that now.
She gulped some down, sighed.
— It’s chocolate.
— I know my cop.
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***
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— Yeah. Good friends, long-term friends. What secrets did they share? There’s something, yes, ugly under this. And it still reads sex. I can get you a ride home.
— I can get my own ride, thanks all the same. Tend to yourself, he murmured. Not just my cop, but to that young girl you still carry with you.
— Don’t worry about me.
He took her face in his hands, kissed her firmly before she could stop him.
— Don’t be a git. I’ll be in touch, he added as he walked to the door.
She let out a huff of breath, turned in time to see the nearby sweeper grinning through her face shield.
— What are you grinning at?
— Just imagining having a guy who looks like that lay lips on me. It’s a smiley thought. She bagged a blood sample from the floor. You take ’em where you find ’em.
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 42 - Confusion du crime de Nora Roberts (en VF)
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[Pensées d'Eve quand elle voit Connors dans son communicateur.]
Son visage emplit l'écran et, bon sang, quel visage. Elle était toujours frappée à l'idée que les dieux, les anges, les poètes et les artistes se soient un jour réunis pour créer quelque chose de parfait. Une bouche magnifiquement sculptée, des yeux d'un bleu impossible et sauvage et de hautes pommettes encadrées par d'épaisses mèches de soie noire.
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***
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Eve soupira de nouveau, toujours accrochée à lui, sa joue appuyée contre la sienne.
— D'accord... souffla-t-elle dans un autre soupir. D'accord.
Lorsqu'il se laissa retomber avec elle, le corps d'Eve lui parut aussi malléable que de la cire fondue, et aussi chaud. Il caressa ses cheveux et sa joue, la fit sourire.
— Je crois qu'on y arrivera.
— Au septième ciel ? On en vient.
Toujours souriante, elle lui planta son index dans les côtes.
— Non, pas ça... même si c'était vraiment bon. En fait, mon cerveau revient sans cesse aux Mira. Tu n'étais pas là avec eux sur la scène du crime. C'était... C'est la manière dont ils se regardent, dont ils se touchent. J'ai détourné les yeux une ou deux fois, parce que j'avais l'impression de m'immiscer dans leur intimité. Ils sont mariés depuis plusieurs décennies, mais quand on les voit comme ça... comme la nuit dernière ? On comprend pourquoi.
Elle ferma les yeux.
— J'ai envie de la même chose. Je n'avais jamais pensé vouloir le vivre, ni même que j'en étais capable ou que ça m'arriverait. Mais j'en ai envie à présent. J'ai envie d'être avec toi pendant plusieurs dizaines d'années et que tu me regardes toujours comme lui la regarde.
— Tu es l'amour de ma vie. Et tu le seras toujours.
— Peut-être que tu pourras me répéter ça dans, disons, trente ans.
— Je te le promets. Et maintenant rendors-toi, amour de ma vie.
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 43 - Apprendice in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
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She headed straight to her office, stopped short when she saw Roarke, leaning back against her desk.
The man could stop her heart, then send it into full gallop. Just a look at him. They’d been married more than two years, she thought. Shouldn’t that ease off? Where was that in the Marriage Rules?
But a man who looked like Roarke broke every rule.
That absurdly beautiful face set off with the wild blue eyes of some Irish god, and the perfect poet’s mouth. The black hair, silkier than Summerset’s tone, tied back in work mode. The tall, lean length of him all in black—no tie or suit coat, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbow.
So he’d been home, and working, for some time.
Yeah, the look of him broke the rules, stopped the heart. But it was that instant, just that instant when those amazing blue eyes met hers that sent it into the gallop.
In them lived love. Just that simple, just that extraordinary.
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***
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[Roarke fantasme sur la tenue d'Eve...]
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She propped up on an elbow and did just that. But when she started to reach for her clutch piece, he took her hands.
“Not quite yet.”
“I’m not going to sleep wearing it.”
“Not sleep.” Stretching out, he picked up her weapon harness. As he began to put it on her, she shoved out at him.
“What the hell?”
“Indulge my curiosity.” Quick and efficient, he hooked it on her, then pushed off the bed again to take a good long look.
Propped on her elbows, a wonderfully baffled expression on her face, her eyes still glazed from sex, she stirred his heart.
And propped on her elbows, a weapon on her ankle, another hitched over the shoulders of that lean and naked warrior’s body, she stirred something else entirely.
“Yes, I’ve imagined that.”
“You’ve imagined me wearing my weapons without a shirt? Or pants?”
“I see now that even my exceptional imagination fell short. So, Lieutenant.”
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***
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“And now I do.”
She shook her head. “Not the same. Not close to the same. No one loved me, and maybe along the way that became my fault as much as the system’s, but no one loved me. No one said eat something because I love you, because you matter. I was just another number until I earned the badge. I was just a badge, mostly just a badge, until I earned you.”
She took a breath. “I could have been this girl, Roarke.”
“No.”
“Yes, or at least something like her. If Feeney had been a different kind of cop, a different kind of man. If he’d been like Mackie, broken and twisted like Mackie. He saw me. Really saw me, and he pulled me out of the rest, paid attention, gave me time, gave me him. No one had, ever, offered me what he did. No one, ever, saw me like he did. I wanted to make him proud of me, wanted to be the kind of cop he’d be proud of. It drove me.
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***
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She pressed her face into his shoulder, a shoulder that was always there when she needed it most. “How much is you?” She drew back, framed his face with her hands. Even in the dark she could see the wild, wonderful blue of his eyes. “I love you.”
“A ghrá.” He kissed her softly. “My only.”
“I love you,” she said again, pouring herself into the kiss. “You saved me.”
“Each other.” He laid her back, covered her with his body. “We saved each other.”
She needed him, the tangible act of loving. Mouth on mouth, hands on flesh, heart beating to heart.
Not the cold, the dark, not the ugly pulse of red light and blood black against white. But warmth and beauty and passion, and all the brilliance he’d brought to her life simply by loving her.
Whatever she’d been, whatever she’d become, she was more because he loved her.
So strong, he thought, and so vulnerable. The two aspects of her in constant conflict. But that pull and tug made her what she was. And what she was, here and now, was his. Only his.
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***
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[Eve et Roarke (Connors) parlent de Summerset.]
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Stopping, he took Eve’s arm—firmly. “He looked shaken and fragile. I couldn’t stand the idea that you would push him. And yourself. I couldn’t stand being caught between the pair of you when you both looked ready to drop, and neither would give way.”
“He held up.” She hissed out a breath. “I wasn’t going to push him, but I needed to know what he saw. He was right there, front lines, and he’s been there before. It gives me insight. She’s going to hit again, and likely quicker now. I needed him.”
“I know it.”
“What he did? I admire it more than I can say. He could’ve gone back in, stayed safe, but he went outside, he risked doing that to save lives.”
“He saved mine, and so did you. It’s a tricky dance for me.”
She stopped at the car. “You were the making of him, that’s what I see.” The stunned look on Roarke’s face had her shaking her head. “He wouldn’t be with you still if that wasn’t the way it is. You say you and I saved each other. Well, before I came along, the two of you did the same. Another way, another path, but just as true. You gave him purpose, and you gave him a son. So let’s just table all this crap.”
“Crap tabled.” Then he pulled her into his arms, held tight. “No one’s paying attention to the likes of us right now. So give me this, as I need it. I swear, I need it.”
She gave what he needed, and took what she needed. Held on. “You know, you got more Irish in there, trying to bully us into doing what you thought we should do.”
“A bloody lot of good it did me.”
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 43 - Crimes sous silence de Nora Roberts (en VF)
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[Connors prit entre Eve et Summerset.]
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Il la vit en premier, émergeant d’un pas de porte qui, d’après le plan qu’il avait mémorisé, menait aux coulisses, côté gauche. Elle lui parut terriblement pâle et, parce qu’il connaissait si bien ses yeux, il sut tout de suite qu’elle avait pleuré. Tout en marchant, elle parlait dans son communicateur. Sans doute pour donner de nouvelles instructions, coordonner l’action de ses troupes et recevoir leurs rapports. Comme il s’avançait vers elle, Summerset franchit les portes menant aux loges du côté droit. Connors lui trouva de nouveau l’air frêle, les os du crâne trop proéminents sous la peau tirée de son visage. Ce qui se lisait dans ses yeux était plus que de la fatigue. Des larmes, de nouveau, du genre qui vous brûlent le ventre, vous calcinent le cœur et ne s’apaisent pas une fois versées. À cet instant précis, Connors se sentit partagé entre eux, ces deux amours essentiels, ces deux forces opposées. Puis il vit Summerset vaciller, très légèrement, et appuyer sa main sur le dos d’un siège pour conserver son équilibre. Un geste qui scella le choix de Connors. Il changea de direction pour rejoindre l’homme qui lui avait offert une vie.
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***
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— Je lui ai fait peur, expliqua Summerset à Eve une fois qu’ils furent seuls. C’est difficile d’être confronté à la faiblesse de la personne qui vous a élevé.
— Je comprends, mais…
— Et il s’inquiète pour vous. Lieutenant, votre épuisement et votre accablement ont l’air à la hauteur de ceux que je ressens moi-même. Et que peut-il faire pour nous, s’interroge-t-il, quand celle qu’il aime plus que tout doit faire appel à celui pour lequel il ressent l’amour d’un enfant pour son parent ? Eh bien, nous rugir dessus, bien entendu, termina-t-il avec un léger sourire.
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***
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[Eve à Summerset.]
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Elle fit quelques pas puis se retourna.
— Vous savez, les équipes médicales et les policiers qui se sont précipités… Dire qu’il s’agit de leur métier ne diminue en rien les risques qu’ils prennent et le courage qu’ils affichent. Ce n’est pas votre métier mais vous avez pris les mêmes risques, fait preuve du même courage. Je ne l’oublierai pas.
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***
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[Sous-entendu coquin de Mira à Eve...]
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— Vous avez repris des couleurs, constata Mira.
— Ah oui ? Un petit coup de Connors.
— C’est un euphémisme ? Quand auriez-vous eu le temps pour ça ?
— Je voulais… Non, non.
À la fois amusée et consternée, Eve leva le mug.
— Un remontant. Fourni par Connors. Il en aura sans doute refilé à la moitié des effectifs de la brigade pendant qu’il y était.
Tâchant de ne pas penser à Mira l’imaginant en pleins ébats, Eve changea de sujet.
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 44 - Echoes in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
He laughed again. “Challenge accepted.”
He drew her down to him.
And there it was, she thought, the real deal. Her place, her man, her heart, all right here. Wherever she’d been, whatever brutal the beginnings, however lost, however broken she’d once been, she’d found this. And this, this was worth every painful, bleeding step of the journey.
Overwhelmed by it, she cupped his face in her hands, poured herself into the kiss.
“Eve,” he murmured.
“I’m alive.” She pressed his hand to her heart. “I love you.”
“You’re everything. All. Only. Everything.”
***
“You think Strazza threatened to hurt her family, used that as another level.”
“I think it’s possible—probable. The fear was the first reaction, instant, ingrained. Then she flinched, jerked back like she’d been slapped when the sister said Strazza was dead. Period. It’s almost as if she didn’t completely understand it or believe it until that moment. Then she let go. What I saw in the sister was someone who knew how to hang on, to hold on.”
She turned her face into his throat.
“I saw myself, and you. What it is to have that, to be stunned you do. I saw love, and a chance to heal. It took brutality to give her that chance. It took brutality to give me mine. Fighting that understanding, that mirror I see when I look at her, is exhausting.”
“Why would you fight it?”
“I have to be objective to do the job, and if I don’t do the job, do it right, another couple could end up on that board.”
“Darling Eve.”
He stroked her hair, pressed his lips to it.
“It’s the blend of your objectivity, observations, instincts, and your empathy for the victim that makes you what you are. It’s that very blend that’ll lead you to the answers, lead you to him.”
“I hope to Christ you’re right. Because they’re leading me. In a couple of directions, but they’re leading me.”
“Then we’ll follow. But first, you’ll eat.”
***
“She wouldn’t have seen it that way. She’d have barely seen him at all because she’d already seen Neville. She told me today that the minute she saw him, that was it.”
Pausing, Eve turned to Roarke.
“I know what she means. That’s another echo for me. The first time I saw you—that was in a crowd, too, the funeral for one of my dead—it hit, and hard. I didn’t like it one bit. It pissed me off, but it hit.”
“On both sides. One look.”
Without thinking, he slid a hand into his pocket, rubbed his fingers over the button he’d carried ever since, one that had fallen off her truly ugly suit the day they’d met.
***
In the dark, the cat jumped on the bed, padded to her, butted his head against her shins.
Eve picked him up—Christ, talk about weight—clutched him to her as a child might a teddy bear. The cat purred in her arms, rubbed his wide head against her shoulder.
“You always come through, don’t you?” she murmured, easing her hold to stroke and scratch. “Pretty smart of me to haul your fat ass home that day.”
She rubbed her cheek against the top of his head.
“Yeah, I’m pretty smart.”
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Lieutenant Eve Dallas - Tome 46 - Darkk in Death by J.D.Robb (Nora Roberts) en VO
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When she melted, heated honey, against him, they lay together, tangled, dazed, in the center of the ballroom.
Fleetingly, he wondered if he’d ever not think of this when they had the room full of people, food, lights, and music. He also wondered how he’d find the energy to carry her to their actual bed if—as he thought she might—she fell asleep on top of him.
Then she stirred, let out a long, low sound of satisfaction.
“Well, that’s another checked off the list.”
Adoring her, he laughed. “You have a list?”
“It’s just a mental list, for now. How many rooms do you figure we have yet to hit?”
Adore her, hell. He bloody well worshipped her. “I’ll have to do a count.”
“Do that.” She pushed up enough to look down at him. “Because we have to hit them all. Big house, so it’ll take awhile. But we have to hit them all, even if we hit the last one when we’re old and creaky.”
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***
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[Eve et Peabody se rendent dans une clinique vétérinaire dans le cadre de leur enquête, et un gros chien tombe amoureux d'Eve.]
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Relieved, Eve sidestepped, turned for the door. Sampson blithely galloped with her, dragging his owner behind as she begged him to stop, sit, heel, behave.
Once again, Eve looked down into the eyes gleaming with mad love.
She pointed, said, “Sit!”
He dropped his huge ass onto the floor, slapped his axe of a tail. “Stay,” she ordered.
As she escaped, she heard the assistant say, “That’s an alpha, Mrs. Pinksy.”
“He was sweet,” Peabody began. “Big and sloppy and sweet.”
“He licked my entire face.” Eve ran her hands over it, grateful her skin appeared to be intact. “I think he might have licked my eyeballs.”
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***
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[Galahad sent l'odeur d'un chien sur Eve. Il le prend très mal et il boude...]
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The cat found her while she read, jumped up. Galahad started to cozy right in beside her, then froze. Every hair on his pudgy body stood up. He hissed.
“What? What?”
His eyes, feral in their light, fired at her before he sniffed her arm. His back arched like a Halloween cat.
“What the hell … Jesus, the dog? Are you kidding me? It was hours ago. I was wearing my coat. You can’t possibly …” She sniffed her own arm. “I absolutely do not smell like big, sloppy dog. Besides, it wasn’t my fault. He had the crazy eyes.”
Galahad snarled, sniffed her leg. Let out a bitter, throaty sound.
“He leaned on me. It was line of duty, so get over it.”
He turned his back on her, tubby body rigid, angry eyes focused on a wall of books.
“How come you don’t act this way when I come home with blood on me, or street thief stench?”
She could ignore his jealous ass, she thought, but …
It was, in its weird way, sort of flattering.
So, reaching over, she stroked a hand from his head to his tail. Twice. “Don’t be an asshole.”
She went back to the book, to the scene. The cat held out for nearly two minutes, then curled up against her. Absently, she scratched between his ears as she backtracked to study the plot, and tried to put herself in the mind of the killer.
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