Page 50 of Bonded in Death

There was pain, sudden and sharp. Shock rushed behind it, just as searing.

And decades fell away in an instant.

Chapter Seven

“Just another hour. Maybe two,” Eve said as they walked back to her office. “The killer could be the son of one of the people Rossi helped hunt. Or hired by one of them who didn’t get a death sentence. I’m damn sure he’s a pro.”

“And may be so good at it that his face doesn’t find a match. But so good at it, he leaves your card? Drawing you into this?”

“It’s stupid,” she agreed. “Stupid and risky, but he wants the challenge, the hunt. I can’t say why—maybe Mira will figure it. And yeah, I need to find out. I may not be able to put a name to him—yet—but I have to know who he is.”

“Not only for Rossi.” Roarke understood. “But because he intends to kill again.”

“Seven times more. So—”

She broke off as they turned into the office.

Summerset stood, back to them, facing the board.

“Finally. Listen, I just need you to give me some basic—”

She broke off again when he turned around. When she saw his face.

He had, to her eye, a cadaver’s face at the best of times. But now? With all the color leached out of his face, with his dark eyes full of grief, he looked like a victim.

Roarke moved quickly.

“You’ll sit. Sit over here now. I’ll get you some brandy.”

“Yes, a brandy if you will.”

As Roarke led Summerset to the sofa, Eve followed.

“You knew him. You knew Giovanni Rossi.”

“Eve, a moment.” Roarke snapped it. “He’s dead pale. He’s in shock.”

“Shocked, not in shock,” Summerset qualified. “Yes, I knew him. A friend.”

The cat leaped on the couch, moved into Summerset’s lap. He stroked Galahad, gently, his grieving eyes on Eve’s.

“I knew him when… we were young. Why was he in New York? I don’t understand.”

He took the brandy Roarke gave him, and his hand shook slightly as he lifted the glass.

A victim, Eve reminded herself. You handled a victim differently than a source.

“He didn’t contact you?”

“No. No. I haven’t heard from him in… nearly twenty years? I’m not sure now. Retired. I know he retired.”

“From?”

His hand steadied as he sipped again. Something more than grief came into his eyes. “His work.”

“Don’t bullshit me on this. I’ve uncovered enough to know he worked covert ops, probably for AISE, out of a cybersecurity company front. I know he worked for the Underground during the Urbans. And the gas that killed him came from that era.”

“Phosphine, so I saw. It was banned from use as a weapon even then. And still there were some.”

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