"Thank you. Helpful?" he asked Eve when he'd ended transmission.

"Just plugging holes. Do you sell silver wire?"

"Oh, I imagine."

"Yeah, so did I."

"If you'd like help tracing the murder weapon – "

"McNab's on it. We'll see how far we can fumble without you in that area."

"Of course. But you did want to discuss something with me."

"Yeah. Where's your pal?"

"Mick's enjoying the pool. And we've a couple of hours before our guests begin to arrive."

"Okay." But she rose, walked across the room, and closed her office door. And standing there, looked back, studying the man she loved, had married, and lived with. "The hit, if we accept the theory that this was a hired job, cost two million plus expenses, at the minimum. Who would spend that much to inconvenience or embarrass or upset you?"

"I can't tell you. There are certainly a number of competitors, professional rivals, or foes, those who have a personal dislike for me who have the financial resources to invest that much money to disturb me."

"How many of that number wouldn't see murder as too high a price?"

"In business?" He lifted his hands. "I've made a lot of enemies, certainly, but the battles are generally waged in meeting rooms, over ledgers. While it's not unthinkable that one of them might reach flash point and decide eliminating me is a worthwhile business move, I can't think of a reason, logically, why killing a maid in one of my hotels would answer."

"Not all your battles used to be waged in meeting rooms, or over ledgers."

"No. But even they were direct. If we're dealing with an old grudge, it would still be me or mine targeted. I didn't even know that girl."

"There." She stepped forward now, moving in on him, her eyes on his face. "That's the point I keep circling back to. It hurts you, it preys on your mind. And it pisses you off."

"There are other ways to accomplish all of that without killing an innocent girl."

"Who wouldn't care?" she insisted. "Past or present. What major deals do you have going on right now where the balance could be shifted if you're not focused, not on top of it. Olympus? When we took those few days last week you spent a lot of time fixing stuff."

"The sort of thing that's expected to arise in a project of that size and scope. It's under control."

"Would it be if you weren't at the helm?"

He considered. "There might be some added delays, costs, some complications, but, yes, I have a strong team in every area of that project. As I do on all major holdings. I'm not indispensable, Eve."

"Bullshit." She said it with such force, it startled him. "You have your finger on every button in every deal or organization. The whole damn mess you've built would spin without you, fine, but it wouldn't spin the same way. There's only one you. Who've you bumped up against who doesn't want to play it your way?"

"No one in particular. In any case, if someone wanted to yank my attention away from a project, cause me to neglect it, the most certain way of doing that would have been to try for you."

"And have you hound them until they're no more than husks you can kick into dust? I don't think so."

He skimmed a finger down the shallow dent in her chin. "You have a point."

"If it's nothing from now, then you have to think back. The past can circle back on us no matter what kind of maze we build. We both know that. Part of yours is splashing around in your swimming pool right now."

"True enough."

"Roarke." She hesitated, then leaped. "You haven't seen him for a long time. You don't know who he is now, or what he's done in the years between. He shows up, right in the lobby of the hotel, hours, really, after the murder."

"You're looking at Mick in this?" He was able to smile again, shake his head. "He's a thief, a grifter, a liar, certainly, and not one you'd trust farther than a good boot in the ass would send him, but murder isn't in him. This kind," he continued before she could argue, "this cold and calculated kind is either in a man or isn't, Eve. We both know that."

"Maybe. But people change. And paying for murder can add a nice, cozy buffer for some."

"For some. Not Mick." On that point, at least, he hadn't a doubt. "You're right that he may have changed. But never on that most elemental level. He'd cheerfully cheat a grandmother, even his own, out of her life's savings, but he wouldn't kill a mongrel dog, or order it done, for rubies. He was the softest of us when it came to bloodshed."

"Okay." But she'd keep an eye on Mick Connelly nonetheless. "Someone else from back then. You need to put your mind to it. To deals from before, to deals right now. Something I can work with."

"I'll set my mind on it, I promise you."

"Good. And you'll increase your personal security."

"Will I?"

She'd hoped to sneak that one in, but hadn't really counted on it. "You're the target. It's possible Darlene French was just a warning shot. 'Look how close I can get without really trying.' The next step might be to go after you directly."

"Or you," he countered. "Are you increasing your personal security?"

"I don't have any personal security."

"Exactly."

"I'm a cop."

"And I sleep with one." He snuck an arm around her waist. "Aren't I lucky?"

"Cut it out. This isn't a joke."

"No, indeed it isn't. But that crack about increasing my personal security I'll take as one so I don't become annoyed with my wife right before we have guests for dinner. Shut up," he suggested as she opened her mouth, then insured she did so.

The kiss was long, and it was hard, and not particularly playful. So when she surfaced from it, her eyes narrowed.

"I can hang cops all over you."

"You could," he agreed. "And I could shake them right off again, as you well know. You're the only cop I want hanging all over me, Lieutenant. In fact…" His clever fingers had her shirt half-unbuttoned before she slapped them away.

"Cut it out. I don't have time for this."

He grinned. "Then I'll be quick."

"I said – " But his teeth sunk lightly into her throat, shooting the thrill straight down the center of her body, right through the toes. Her eyes might have crossed, but she gave him a decent elbow jab. "Stop it."

"I can't. I have to hurry." And he was laughing as he unfastened the hook of her trousers. Laughing when his mouth came back to cover hers.

She might have kicked him if her feet hadn't gotten tangled, but her heart wouldn't have been in it. Even her yelp as he plopped her onto her own desk didn't register much of a protest.

Half-naked, already breathless, she levered herself on her elbows. "All right, just get it over with."

He leaned over her, nipped her chin. "I heard that snicker."

"That was the sound of a sneer."

"Was it?" Amused, aroused, he distracted her with a nibble on her bottom lip. "I can never tell the difference. And what sound is this?"

"What sound?"

He drove himself into her, one powerful and deep thrust that ripped a shocked cry from her throat.

"That one." He lowered his head, tasting the heat that rose to her flesh even as her hips arched to meet him. "And that one."

She struggled to get her breath back. "Tolerance," she managed.

"Oh, well, if that's the best we can do." He started to move back. She reared up, wrapped around him.

"I need to practice my tolerance." She skimmed the hair away from his face with her fingers, then fisted her hands. Her lips curved, met his.

When the in-house 'link signaled, he simply reached over and manually switched it to standby.

It turned out he wasn't as quick as he was thorough. When she was reasonably certain her legs would hold her again, she pushed off the desk and stood, wearing her boots, an open shirt, and her shoulder harness.