Page 107 of Concealed in Death

“Me, too,” Nadine said cheerfully. “Big brother’s never hooked up legally, though he does date now and then. They were raised to save sex for marriage, which is why I figure the sister married young. But I have this nagging doubt they’ve stuck to that tenet.” She smiled when she said it. “And one of the brother’s former companions was willing to confirm that.”

She hadn’t bothered to go there, Eve thought, but had to admit it was good data to add to the mix.

“I don’t much care about their sex lives, unless it pertains.”

“Oh, I care about everyone’s. And poking around in that area, I couldn’t find anybody little brother dated.”

Okay, that could be interesting, Eve thought. “He was only twenty-three when he died, and since you poked around, you know he led a sheltered life, had some emotional issues, add in my-mom-killed-herself issues. Could’ve been a late bloomer if he hadn’t gotten snipped off the vine.”

“You’re looking at him.”

“I’m looking at all of them.”

“Dallas.” All friendly amusement, Nadine pointed at her. “I know how it works, remember? And I know how you work. You’re looking at the dead brother particularly.”

The hell with it. “If he was alive, I’d have him in the box sweating him. And I don’t want you running with that angle on-air, Nadine. I’m not ready.”

“We’re just chatting.” She tapped the pink box with a pink-tipped nail. “Aren’t you going to eat your doughnut?”

“I had breakfast, then I had the world’s most amazing hot chocolate. Doughnuts pale.” Which reminded her she still wore her coat.

Nadine nodded at the cap. “I like your hat,” she said as Eve shrugged out of her coat. “The snowflake’s adorable.”

“The what?” Eve snatched the hat off, stared at the sparkling white snowflake on the front. “Shit. There’s a snowflake on this thing. A glittery one.”

“It’s, as stated, adorable. But I digress. DeWinter’s keeping a tight ship over in her world, but you should be aware she enjoys a good, frisky media conference. Once she gets to the point she’s ready, she’ll call one.”

“She’ll call one when I tell her to.” But Eve made a note to make that crystal clear, and to use the commander if necessary.

“Just a heads-up, friend to friend.”

“And you’re being so damn friendly.”

“I am. We are,” Nadine added. “And before I move on to my not-so-secret agenda, I want to say I really, seriously, completely enjoyed Thanksgiving at your place, with the gang, with Roarke’s family.”

She angled to smile at the framed sketch on Eve’s wall.

“That’s great, you know. Not just that the kid thought of it, or what she wrote on the back, but that you’d hang it in here.”

“I told her I would.”

“And that mattered to her. You could see it on her face. Anyway, I know I was a little drunk—just a little—but what I said about being in love with Roarke’s family remains true cold sober. If I wasn’t a to-the-bone urbanite, didn’t have to-the-marrow ambitions, a job I love, and so on, I’d move to Ireland, pick one out of the herd, and marry him. I may hold out for Sean,” she said considering, speaking of Roarke’s young cousin. “I might be ready to retire to Ireland by the time he’s old enough.”

“They have cows,” Eve said darkly. “Practically in the backyard.”

“I could live with that,” Nadine decided. “In about twenty years. Until then, I’m writing my next book.”

“Oh.”

“Such enthusiasm!” Nadine laughed. “The Icove Agenda took everything up a level for me. I’m ready to dig into another. My working title is Ride the Red Horse.”

“You’re going to write about Callaway, about Menzini.”

“It’s a natural. A cult, a crazed leader harking back to the Urban Wars, a deadly weapon used to cause ordinary people to hallucinate and kill each other within minutes. The legacy passed on, the courageous cop who brought them down.”

“Shit.”

“Really, try to control your joy. I’ll be tapping you, Roarke, the team from time to time while I’m drafting it out, and I’ll be asking you to look over the finished manuscript, to make sure you’re okay with it.”