Ritual in Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

too elaborate, planned too far in advance to just be for the hell of it.”
    “For the hell of it. Ha-ha. God.” Peabody rubbed her eyes. “I need those two hours down.”
    “Take them now. It’s the last you’ll be seeing of the back of your eyelids for a while.”
    She headed to the showers. In the locker room she checked the contents of the bag, noted that Roarke hadn’t missed a trick. Underwear, boots, pants, shirt, jacket, weapon harness, her clutch piece, communicator, restraints, spare recorder, PPC, and cash. More than she normally carried on the job. She stuffed it all in her locker, grabbed a towel, then wrapped herself in it once she’d stripped off.
    In the miserly shower cube she ordered the water on full at 101 degrees. It came out in a stingy lukewarm trickle, so she closed her eyes and pretended she was home, where the shower sported multiple and generous jets that pummeled the body with glorious heat. Then spun around, soaking wet, when her instincts tingled to see Roarke standing in the narrow opening, hands in pockets.
    “If this is the best the NYPSD offers it’s no wonder you’re prone to hour-long showers at home.”
    “What’s wrong with you? Close the door. Anybody could walk in here.”
    “I locked the door, which you neglected to do.”
    “Because cops aren’t prone to sneaking peeks while another cop is in the damn shower. What are you doing?”
    “Taking my clothes off so they don’t get wet. That’s the usual procedure.”
    “You can’t come in here.” She jabbed a finger at him when he draped his shirt over a bench. “Cut it out. There’s barely room for me. Besides—”
    “The security was breached on site. It’s going to be a very long day. I want a shower, and since she’s naked, wet, and here, I want my wife.”
    He stepped in, slid his arms around her. “Not only is this excuse for a shower stall the approximate size of a coffin, but it’s bloody noisy for the amount of water dripping out.”
    “Who’s the most likely to have compromised—”
    “Later,” he said, and drew her in. “Later,” and covered her mouth with his.
    She’d seen his eyes before their lips met; seen the worry and the fatigue in them. It was so rare for him to show either, even to her, that she instinctively wrapped around him. Need. She understood the need, not just for the physical, but for the unity.
    Touch, taste, movement. Knowing who you were, each to the other, and what you became when that need brought you together.
    “Anybody finds out about this,” she murmured in his ear, “I’ll get razzed for years.” She bit lightly at his lobe. “So make it good.”
    Her heart slammed against her ribs when he drove into her. “Okay. That’s a start.”
    He laughed, an unexpected and welcome zing of humor along with the pleasure. The old pipes clanged and rattled as he slowed his thrusts, smoothed the pace down from urgent to easy. He turned his head, found her mouth again, and drew them both down, deep, deep. Filled them both from the shimmering well of sensation and emotion.
    He felt her rise up, the cry of her release tangled in the kiss. And let himself follow.
    On a long, long breath, she dropped her head on his shoulder. “This is not authorized use of departmental facilities.”
    “We expert civilian consultants need our perks, too.” He tipped her head up. “I adore you, Lieutenant.”
    “Yeah? Then shove it over some, pal. You’re hogging what there is of the water.”
    When they stepped out and she began toweling off, he lifted a brow. “Towel over drying tube? Not your usual.”
    “I don’t trust them in here.” She gave the tube a suspicious glare. “You could get fried, or maybe worse, trapped. Anyway, I gave Peabody some crib time, but I’m going to cut it short, see if they’ve gotten to the vic at the morgue.”
    “I’ll be going with you.”
    She didn’t argue; it was a waste of time. “You’re not responsible for what happened to Ava