Page 111 of Bonded in Death

She got up, checked the time, and decided she had enough of it for a quick, solid workout.

She grabbed coffee first, let it smack away the last dregs of fatigue. She pulled on gym shorts, a sports tank, running shoes. A couple of miles, she thought as she got in the elevator, get the heart pumping. Some weights to wake up muscles.

Then more coffee.

Downstairs, she turned toward the gym.

And stopped short when she found Marjorie and Iris doing curls.

Her first thought was that though they had about thirty years on her, they were in damn good shape. Her second: What the hell were they doing in her space?

They stopped when they saw her. Marjorie shot out that vid-star smile. “Good morning! Another early riser—and we have the excuse of getting our body clocks on New York time.”

Iris put her weights back on the rack. “We’re in your way.”

Eve thought: Yes. But said, “No, that’s—”

“We thought we’d be out before anyone else was stirring.” Marjorie racked her weights. “One has to stay in tune if one insists on doing stunts. And since I enjoy making the occasional action vid, I’m honor bound. I see you have a new model of sparring droid. Mine’s considerably older, and should be updated. How do you like this one?”

First, she tried to imagine the middle-aged woman going at it with the droid, one fabricated as a muscular male of about thirty-five.

“Ah, I haven’t tried it yet. I broke the last one.”

Marjorie’s brows winged up. “Sparring?”

“I was a little pissed off.”

“Impressive.”

Iris handed Marjorie a tube of water. “We’ll get out of your way. We just need to stretch it out.”

“How about we finish with some yoga, Iris? Could we use your very Zen dojo for that, Lieutenant?”

“Sure. Ah, there are programs.”

“I have my own.” Marjorie tapped a finger to her temple as they left.

Eve stood a minute to make sure they kept going. She couldn’t remember ever having that much conversation or pulling out that many manners ten minutes after rolling out of bed.

To compensate she put herself through a hard, sweaty three-mile run,then another session with weights. She might have used the dojo for a little yoga herself, but for all she knew, they’d still be in there.

Doing sun salutations, or meditating.

She stretched where she was, then headed straight back to the bedroom.

Roarke sat, the cat across his lap. The screen scrolled on mute as he did whatever he did on a tablet. But routine took another detour as he wore black jeans and a blue T-shirt that turned his eyes to blue lasers.

“Where’s your suit?”

“Taking the day off.”

“You’re taking the day off?”

“The suit is. I’ll be working from home until I join you at Chez Robert.”

“Oh.”

It actually helped knowing he’d be around for a while, keeping their guests contained.

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