Page 140 of Fury In Death

He took off her shirt—she’d known he would.

“Ah God.”

“The bruising on the shoulder’s from the dislocation. It’s back in place. Put a cold pack over it, boy. Have you taken any medication, Lieutenant?”

She preferred, by an Arena Ball field, Summerset’s briskness to Roarke’s distress.

“A blocker.”

“One?”

“Yeah, maybe forty minutes ago.”

“I have stronger meds.”

She opened her eyes, saw the pressure syringe.

“Don’t you put that shit in me. Makes me weird and stupid. I need to function.”

“Then another blocker. Perfectly safe, and no risk of weird and stupid. And if you behave, with only blockers you can have a nice glass of wine when we’re done.”

“Goodie.”

“Right wrist. Not broken. Bruising and swelling from a sprain. Ice this as well.”

“Ribs are bruised,” she said. “Nothing’s broken.”

Clearly, he didn’t trust her on it, as his long fingers checked her. “I’d prefer a full scan, but I believe the lieutenant’s correct. No breaks.”

“He didn’t break anything. He was holding back.”

“This is holding back?” Roarke demanded, and wrapped a cold pack around her wrist.

“He didn’t want to hurt me. The pants stay on.” She whipped that out when Summerset pressed a hand against her hip. “Left hip, left knee, right ankle.

“He wanted me to listen, told me to stay down and listen.”

“You wouldn’t stay down,” Roarke murmured.

“It’s not my job to stay down when dealing with a man who’s killed five people.”

“Redman then. I thought as much.”

“If you’re thinking about payback, shut it down.” She gritted her teeth when Summerset removed her boots, rolled up her pants legs. “And think about this. He had me. I was down, trapped, he’d disarmed me. He could’ve killed me, but he just wanted me to listen.

“Fucking ow!”

“Lacerations where I assume you had a clutch holster.” Summerset spoke mildly. “The stinging from the treatment’s temporary.”

“Not temporary enough. Roarke, they came to him when he was in the hospital. Inside, he was aware, he could hear, unable to respond at the time, but aware. Chu, his friend, the friend and colleague he’d told he’d decided to go to the FBI, to stop them. And who’d gone to Wyst. ‘Let’s work this all out?’ They worked it out by hiring Cruz to kill him, and most everyone else in the building. And he comes in, tells Redman, gee, he’s really sorry. Didn’t know they’d do that.”

“And yet he continued to work for them, he profited from it all.”

“That’s right. Dent came in, told him he should have stuck with the company, that he’d have been able to give his family the best. Wyst came in, said he got what he deserved, that it was his fault his family was dead.”

“Bloody bastards all,” Summerset muttered as he worked.

Roarke put a hand on Summerset’s shoulder. He remembered, Eve thought, as she did, Summerset’s wife had died in an explosion, betrayed by a colleague.