J. Robb - Loyalty in Death

She let out a shuddering breath. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. In my life, you're what matters most. I love you so much it scares me, and I guess if I had a choice about it, I wouldn't change it. So… now you can get pissed off, because I'm done."

"A fat lot of room you've given me for that." He watched her lips twitch into a smile as he went to her. His hands slipped over her shoulders, down her back. "I've no choice either, Eve. I wouldn't want one."

"We're not going to fight."

"I don't think so."

She kept her eyes on his as she tugged at the belt of his robe. "I stored up this energy in case I needed it to fight with you."

He lowered his head, bit her bottom lip. "It's a shame to waste it."

"I'm not going to." Slowly, she backed him toward the bed, up the short steps to the platform. "I drove through the city tonight. I felt alive." She tugged the robe away, closed her teeth over his shoulder. "I'm going to show you."

She tumbled to the bed on top of him, and her mouth was like a fever. The frantic burst of energy reminded her of the first time they'd come together on this bed, the night she'd thrown all caution and restraint aside and let him take her where they'd needed to go.

Now she would drive him, with fast, rough hands, hot greedy lips. She took exactly what she wanted, and what she took was everything.

The light was gray and weak, trickling through the sky window overhead, filtering down on her. His vision blurred, but he watched her as she destroyed him. Slim, agile, fierce, the bruises from the hideous night blooming on her skin like the medals of a warrior.

Her eyes gleamed as she worked them both toward frenzy.

Then, and then again, skin glowing, breath ragged, she lowered over him, sheathed him, surrounded him.

She arched back, arrowed with pleasure. He gripped her hips, said her name, and let her ride.

Her skin was slick with sweat when she collapsed onto him, melted into him. His arms came around her, holding her there. Her cheek to his heart.

"Sleep awhile," he murmured.

"I can't. I have to go in."

"You haven't slept in twenty-four hours."

"I'm okay," she answered as she sat up. "Almost better than okay. I needed this more than sleep – really, Roarke. And if you think you're going to force a tranq down my throat, think again."

She rolled off him and up. "I need to keep moving. If there's any down time, I'll catch a nap at the crib at Central."

She glanced around for a robe, took his. "I need a favor."

"Now would be an excellent time to ask for one."

She glanced over, grinned. He looked sleek and satisfied. "I bet. Anyway, I don't want Zeke stuck at the station the way he has been, but I need to keep him under wraps awhile longer."

"Send him here."

"Ah… if I took one of your vehicles in, I could leave mine here. Working on it would give him something to do."

Roarke turned his head. Eyed her. "Do you plan to be involved in any wrecks or explosions today?"

"You never know."

"Take anything but the 3X-2000. I've only driven it once."

She made some comment about men and their toys, but he was feeling mellow and let it pass.

Dear Comrade,

We are Cassandra.

We are loyal.

We are sure you've been watching the bleeding liberal media puppets report on the incidents in New York City. It sickens us to listen to their sobbing, their wailing. While we are nothing but amused by their condemnation of the destruction of their pathetic symbols of the blindly opportunistic society that now holds this country under its rigid thumb, we are angry at their one-dimensional and predictable stand on the issues.

Where is their faith? Where is their comprehension?

They still don't see, still don't understand what we are and what we will mean to them.

Tonight we struck with the fury of the gods. Tonight we watched the scrambling rats. But this is nothing, nothing to what we will do.

Our adversary, the woman that fate and circumstance deemed we face down for our mission, has proven difficult. She is skilled and strong, but we would be satisfied with no less. It is true that through her, we have lost a certain monetary payment, which we understand you had hoped to secure quickly. Do not concern yourself with this matter. Our finances are very solvent, and we will bleed this heedless city to its bones before we are finished.

You must trust that we will finish what he began. You must not falter in your faith and your commitment to the cause. Soon, very soon, the most precious symbol of their corrupt and weeping nation will fall. It is all but done.

When this is accomplished, they will pay.

We will see you, face to face, within forty-eight hours. The necessary papers are in order. This next battle to be waged and won in this place, we will complete personally. He would have expected this. He would have demanded it.

Prepare for the next stage, dear comrade. For we will be with you soon to drink to the one who set us on this path. To celebrate our victory and to set the stage for our new republic.

We are Cassandra.

– =O=-***-=O=-

Peabody strode toward the conference room. She'd just left Zeke and was feeling a little shaky over the conversation they'd had with their parents over the 'link. Both of them had put the pressure on for their parents to stay out west, though each had separate reasons.

Zeke couldn't stand the thought of them seeing him under the current circumstances. He wasn't in a cell, but it was close.

Peabody was determined to clear her brother and put him back on the path of his life in her own way.

But her mother had struggled not to cry, and her father had looked dazed and helpless. She wasn't going to get the image of their faces out of her head any time soon.

Work was the remedy, she decided. Unearthing that lying, murdering bitch Clarissa. Then snapping her skinny neck like a twig.

It was with violence brewing under her starched uniform that she walked into the room and saw McNab.

Oh hell, was all she could think, and she marched straight over for coffee. "You're early."

"I figured you'd be." He'd also figured out what he intended to do, and he took the first step by going over and closing the door. "You're not kicking me out of your way without an explanation."

"I don't need to explain anything to you. We wanted to have sex, we had it. Done and over. The lab reports come up?"

"I say it's not done and over." It should be, he knew it should be. But he'd been thinking about that square, serious face and amazingly lush body for days. Weeks. Jesus, maybe months. He'd damn well say when it was done and over.

"I've got more important things on my mind than your ego, McNab." She took a deliberate sip of coffee. "Like my semiannual dentist appointment."

"Why don't you save up your lame insults until you have a better selection? They don't work. I've had you under me."

And over him, she thought. Around and through. "Had's the operative word. Past tense."

"Why?"

"Because that's how it is."

He stepped closer, pulled the cup out of her hand, slammed it down. "Why?"

Her heart began to pound. Damn it, she wasn't supposed to feel anything. "Because that's the way I want it."

"Why?"

"Because if I hadn't been rolling around with you, I'd have been with Zeke. If I'd been with him, I wouldn't have just told my parents my lieutenant is trying to clear him on murder charges."

"That's not your fault. It's not mine." Her breath had begun to hitch, unnerving him. He was mortally afraid she might cry. "It's on the Bransons. And Dallas isn't going to let him take the heat from it. Get a hold here, Dee."

"I should've been with him! I should've been with him, not you."