Brotherhood in Death полностью

Just seeing the house made her feel more centered. She didn’t know why the conversation with Gwen and Ned had left her so unsettled.

They hadn’t been beaten or brutalized. They’d grown up privileged. Nothing like her own experience. But she’d felt her own old dread rising up as she’d listened to them, greasy memories of fear, of helplessness.

She needed it gone.

She prepped herself as she parked. She could start getting it gone by exchanging swipes with Summerset. That should shove back the echoes.

But Summerset wasn’t in the foyer, and that threw her balance off even more. He was supposed to be there, lurking, sneering, making some lame-ass comment.

“Early,” she grumbled to herself as she went up the stairs. “Damn right I’m home early. I made a point of it so I could catch you crawling out of your coffin. That would’ve been a pretty good one. Now it’s wasted.”

She started to head for the bedroom, changed her mind, aimed for her office. She’d dump everything there, take the time to update her board. Then she could let things simmer in the back of her brain while she pounded out a few miles, swam a few laps.

She was still steps away from her office when she heard the humming. Female humming.

What the hell? One of the house droids she rarely, if ever, saw? Did they hum happy tunes?

She stepped into the doorway.

Not a droid, but a glam-type redhead with a tablet, prowling around her personal space humming that fucking happy tune.

And where was her board?

Who the hell was the woman in crotch-high stiletto boots walking around . . . and sitting her skinny ass on HER desk.

Eve flipped back her coat, laid her hand on the butt of her weapon.

“Who the hell are you?”

The redhead let out a quick squeal, bounced her skinny ass off the corner of the desk. She slapped a hand between her perky breasts and goggled at Eve.

“Oh God! You scared me.”

“Yeah?” Hand on her weapon, Eve stepped into the room. “Want to get really scared? You will be if I don’t have your name and how you got in here in ten seconds.”

“I’m Charmaine. You must be Lieutenant Dallas. It’s just lovely to meet you. I was just finishing up the measurements.”

“What measurements?”

“For the . . . I’m so flustered. You really did give me a scare. I’m not really supposed to say. Roarke’s just—”

And he walked in from his office. “Sorry about the interruption. If you’d . . . Eve.”

He noted her stance, the position of her hand, the look in her eye. And sighed. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, how about that? Who’s this, what’s she doing in my office?”

“Charmaine Delacroix, Lieutenant Dallas. Charmaine’s an interior designer I’ve worked with on a number of projects. Including the dojo.”

“Wonderfully minimalistic,” Charmaine said, “yet far from rigid or Spartan.”

Roarke subtly angled himself between her and Eve. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to get started. I’ll have some options for you by next week. Wonderful to meet you,” she said to Eve. “I know the way out.”

Eve gave her five seconds to beat feet, then rounded on Roarke. “You let somebody prowl around my office.”

“I had a designer come in, get a feel for it, measure, and would have been in here with her the entire time—though she’s perfectly trustworthy—but there was a call I had to take.”

“Why does some designer have to get a feel for my office? It’s my office, isn’t it? And where’s my goddamn murder board?”

“I put it away, as you wouldn’t want anyone not involved to see it. And if you hadn’t come home unexpectedly, it would’ve been back in place.”

Outrage wanted to blow the top of her skull through the ceiling. “So it’s okay if I don’t know the difference? It’s okay if I go into your office, take things and put them somewhere else, tell somebody to come right on in, as long as you don’t know about it?”

“If you had a reason to, as I did.”

“What possible reason did you have for moving my murder board, for letting some humming woman into my space?”

“‘Humming’?”

“She was humming. For Christ’s sake.”

“I suppose she has a cheerful disposition. The reason was to surprise you with some ideas for redoing your space.”

Another round of outrage wanted to blow flames out of her ears.

“Why do I need ideas for redoing it? It’s fine. It was just fine for you, too, when you put it together so I’d move in here. What, now it’s not good enough? Not fancy enough?”

His eyes chilled to blue ice. “If you’re going to deliberately be an ass, if you insist on raving over something this simple, we can talk about it when you’re not.”

“I’m an ass? You start messing with my space, and I’m an ass?”