Page 42 of Bonded in Death

Galahad is in your office, Darling Eve… Update, Galahad is leaving your office.

Frowning, she stood another moment. Then saw the cat coming down the stairs.

“Nobody here. You don’t count.” Then she bent to stroke him when he rubbed against her legs. “You count, but not for this. I’ve got the whole freaking castle to myself, when I don’t want it. I’m going up. You might as well come. Christ knows you can use the exercise.”

He didn’t seem offended as he jogged up the steps with her.

She went to her office. She could access Roarke’s private office and the unregistered. But if she waited for him, he could accomplish more than she could in a fraction of the time.

She’d set up her board, her book here.

“Where the hell is Summerset?” she asked the cat.

He just padded over to her sleep chair, leaped into it, and made himself comfortable.

“He’s always here. But today, no. Not here when I actually want to talk to him. I can contact Ivanna. No, no, that’s better coming from him.”

Annoyed, she began to set up her case board. When done to her liking, she sat at her command center. She opened operations and dealt with her murder book.

And maybe, since it was so damn quiet, she’d take some serious thinking time.

She programmed coffee, angled to her board, put her feet on the L of her command center.

As she did, Roarke came in.

She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs, walk down the hall.

The cat’s feet were an elephant’s compared to Roarke’s.

“You beat me home,” he said.

“You and everybody. Where the hell is Summerset?”

“It’s his day off. I hope he’s enjoying it.”

And since Summerset hadn’t been there to take Roarke’s briefcase, he set it aside, then crossed the room to bend down and kiss her.

“Disappointed you missed your daily insults?”

“I need to talk to him. About the Urbans.”

Frowning, Roarke looked at her board. “Then this somehow connects to that. To Summerset?”

“To the Urbans, and Europe. I figure he can give me a picture. But of course, he’s not here, so I can’t, and he can’t. I’m in a shitty mood,” she realized. “It’s his fault.”

“Of course it is.” Adoring her, he kissed her scowling mouth. “I’m going to get us some wine, and you’ll tell me about all this.”

“What do you know about Sicurezza Informatica?”

“Not a great deal, I suppose.” He crossed over to open the wine cabinet and choose a bottle. “A respected cyber firm based in Rome. It’s been around decades with a solid reputation.”

“I think it’s a front.”

He paused in the act of opening a bottle of red. Red, as he thought her mood would lighten with some very nice Cabernet. “For what?”

“Intelligence. Covert ops.”

“Is that so? Well now, that’s interesting.”

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