“Su told me they’d found it. Thought about burning it to the ground when they couldn’t get through security. But they were afraid there would be some evidence in it, and didn’t want to risk destroying it.”
“They didn’t know they were being recorded.”
“No. By the time they were involved, the fucking brothers graduated from handheld or tripod to installed cams throughout the room. I got that from MacNamee.”
“Are you ready?”
Was she? She sat another moment waiting for the answer. Found it.
“Yeah. I couldn’t go in there without you. It would be like that room in Dallas. I’d make myself go in, but I couldn’t do what I need to do, and do it right, without you.”
She felt that hot wash roll over her again. “I have to get this out, get it out before we go in.”
He turned to her, took her hands. “What?”
“I understand what drove those women to this, understand how they could do it, all of it. Whatever I said in the box, whatever I said on record, I understand.”
“How could you not? How could anyone human not? Whatever the law, the rules, Eve, how could you not feel for them?”
“I wish I had stopped them before Edward Mira. Before they made the choice that’s going to take away their freedom. But—they’ll get help. They’ll lose their freedom, but the law, the rules, may save their lives. I talked to them, Roarke, every one of them. And Elsi Adderman might not have been the only one in their group to kill herself to end it. I think the law they disregarded, the law they didn’t believe in, will save them. That’s going to help me sleep at night.”
“They don’t need to know how much effort you put into saving them. Because you do. You know it.” He kissed her hands. “My cop.”
“Your cop has to go in there, deal with this. Then she really wants to go home. With you.”
“Then we will. Let’s get this day over with, and take the night for us.”
She could, Eve thought as she climbed out into the ankle-deep snow. She could leave the day, and all its miseries, behind—soon. And take the night, and some peace, with him.
She could let go, she realized, of the old. Of an old desk, an old chair—old pieces of an old life.
She had a new one. Reaching for his hand, she held it firmly in hers. She had a real one, built by both of them.
“We’re going to get rid of that desk.”
He arched a brow as they approached the door of a house where brutality had lived far too long.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. You know why?”
“I’d love to know.”
“Because we deserve each other.”
Roarke laughed, brought her hand up to kiss. “We bloody well do.”