"Don't do me any favors," she snapped as control teetered.

"I won't." He moved to a dome-topped cabinet, selected a bottle of whiskey, and poured three fingers into a heavy crystal glass. He considered throwing it.

She heard the ice pick fury in his tone, recognized the frigid rage. She would have preferred heat, something hot and bubbling to match her own mood.

"Great, terrific. You go ahead and be pissed off. I've got two dead guys, and I'm waiting for the third. I've got essential information, information vital to the case, that I can't use officially unless I want to come visit you in a federal facility for the next hundred years."

He sipped, and showed his teeth in a smile. "Don't do me any favors."

"You can just yank that stick out of your ass, pal, because you're in trouble here." She found she wanted to hit something – smash anything – and settled for shoving her chair aside. "You and that bony droid you're so goddamn fond of. If I'm going to keep both your butts out of the sling, you better get yourself a quick attitude adjustment."

"I've managed to keep my butt out of the sling by my own devices up until now." Roarke drained the rest of the whiskey, set the glass down with a snap of glass on wood. "You know very well Summerset killed no one."

"It doesn't matter what I know, it matters what I can prove." Temper straining, she dragged her hands through her hair, fisted them there a moment until her head began to throb. "By not giving me all the data, you put me a step behind."

"What would you have done with the data that I wasn't doing myself? And, with my contacts and equipment, doing more quickly and more efficiently?"

That, she thought, tore it. "You better remember who's the cop here, ace."

His eyes glinted once, like blue steel in moonlight. "I'm unlikely to forget."

"And whose job it is to gather evidence and information, to process that evidence and information. To investigate. You do whatever it is you do with your business, but you stay off my turf unless I tell you different."

"Unless you tell me?" She saw the quick and vicious flare of violence in his eyes, but stood her ground when he whirled on her, when he closed a fist over her shirt to haul her up to her toes. "And what if I don't do what I'm told, Lieutenant, what I'm ordered? How do you handle that? Do you walk away and lock the door again?"

"You better move your hand."

He only yanked her up another inch. "I won't tolerate locked doors. I've got my limit, and you reached it. If you don't want to share our bed, if you don't want me near you, then you say so. But I'm damned if you'll turn away and lock the door."

"You're the one who screwed up," she shot back. "You pissed me off and I didn't want to talk to you. I'm the one who has to deal with what's going on here, what's gone on before. I have to overlook the laws you've broken instead of carting you off to a cell." She lifted both hands, shoved hard, and was both surprised and furious when she didn't budge him an inch. "And I've got to make dinner conversation with a bunch of snooty strangers every time I turn around, and worry about what the hell I'm wearing when I do it."

"Do you think you're the only one who's made adjustments?" Enraged, he gave her a quick shake, then let her go so he could prowl the room. "For Christ's sake, I married a cop. Fuck me, a cop. It has to be fate's biggest joke."

"Nobody held a knife to your throat." Insulted, she fisted her hands on her hips. "You're the one who pushed for it."

"And you're the one who pulled back, and still does. I'm sick of it, sick to death of it. It's always you, isn't it, Eve, who has to make the changes and give way?" Fury shimmered around him in all but visible waves, and when those waves crashed over her, she'd have sworn they had weight. "Well, I've made changes of my own, and given way more times than I can count. You can have your privacy when you need it, and your neurotic little snits, but I won't put up with my wife closing doors between us."

The neurotic little snits left her speechless, but the my wife freed her tongue again. "Your wife, your wife. Don't you dare say my wife in that tone. Don't you dare make me sound like one of your fancy suits."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Now I'm ridiculous." She threw up her hands. "I'm neurotic and ridiculous."

"Yes, often."

Her breath began to hitch. She could actually see red around the edges of her vision. "You're arrogant, domineering, egotistical, and disdainful of the law."

He lifted one amused brow. "And your point would be?"

She couldn't form a word. What came out was something between a growl and a scream. The sound of it had Galahad leaping from the top of the desk and curling under it.

"Well said," Roarke commented and decided to have another whiskey. "I've given up a number of businesses in the past months that you would have found questionable." He studied the color of the whiskey in the glass. "True, they were more like hobbies, habits, I suppose, but I found them entertaining. And profitable."

"I never asked you to give up anything."

"Darling Eve." He sighed, found most of his temper had slipped away. "You ask just by being. I married a cop," he said half to himself and drank. "Because I loved her, wanted her, needed her. And to my surprise, I admired her. She fascinates me."

"Don't turn this around."

"It's just come full circle. I can't change what I am, and what I've done. And wouldn't even for you." He lifted his gaze to hers, held it there. "I'm telling you not to lock the door."

She gave a bad-tempered shrug. "I knew it would piss you off."

"Mission accomplished.''

She found herself sighing, a weak sound she didn't have the energy to detest. "It's hard – seeing what had been done to those men, and knowing…"

"That I was capable of doing the same." He set his glass down again. "It was justice."

She felt the weight of her badge, tangibly. Not in her pocket but on her heart. "That wasn't for you to decide."

"There we part ways. The law doesn't always stand for the innocent and the used. The law doesn't always care enough. I won't apologize for what I did, Eve, but I will for putting you in the position of choosing between me and your duty."

She picked up her cold coffee and drank it to clear her throat. "I had to tell Peabody. I had to bring her in." She rubbed a hand over her face. "She'll stand with me. She didn't even hesitate."

"She's a good cop. You've taught me the phrase isn't a contradiction in terms."

"I need her. I need all the help I can get on this one because I'm afraid." She closed her eyes, fought to steady herself. "I'm afraid if I'm not careful enough, not quick or smart enough, I'll walk onto a scene and I'll find you. I'll be too late, and you'll be dead, because it's you he wants. The others are just practice."

She felt his arms come around her, and moved in. There was the warmth of his body, the lines of it all so familiar now, so necessary now. The scent of him as she gripped him close, the steady beat of his heart, the soft brush of his lips over her hair.

"I couldn't stand it." She tightened her hold."I couldn't. I know I can't even think about it because it'll mess me up, but I can't get it out of my head. I can't stop – "

Then his mouth was on hers and the kiss was rough and hot. He would know that was the tone she needed, that she needed his hands on her, hard, impatient. And the promises he murmured as he tugged her shirt aside were for both of them.

Her weapon thudded to the floor. His beautifully cut jacket followed. She tipped her head back so that his lips could race thrills over her throat as she dragged at his belt.

No words now as they hurried to touch. With greedy little nips and bites they tormented each other. She was panting when he pushed her onto the desk. Paper crinkled under her back.