Page 158 of Fury In Death

“Hurt. Das.” She touched her lips, light as butterflies, to Eve’s cheeks. Then her eyes went hot. “Bad guy!”

“Yeah.” She decided to skip over the man whose fists battered her face and go to the source. “He’s in jail, where bad guys go.”

Thinking of Eve’s shoulder, Roarke plucked Bella into his own arms. “Are you ready for the party?”

Though her eyes still glistened, they gave Roarke an under-the-fluttering-lashes smile. “Party. Rrr-rrr-ork! Someshit here, Nabs, Peadobbies. Friends! Babies!”

“Why don’t we take them inside?” As he gestured, August looked at Eve. “That was a good and true statement you made today. One people need to hear.”

Now she thought of Redman. “I hope they heard it.”

A few seconds after they stepped in, music—pulsing but muted—streamed through the air. Trina stepped out of the side sitting room.

“Got orders to start the house music.”

She wore a skin suit in murderous red with airboots to match. Her hair spilled down in swirls of black and silver.

And her eyes narrowed on Eve’s face. “Not as bad as I heard, but bad.”

“Das hurt.”

“I know, sweetcakes. You and August should take Roarke back to his choice of Party Centrals. You”—she pointed at Eve—“come with me.”

“Why? Where?”

“Upstairs to my setup. I can cover that, mostly. Unless you want to spend the next few hours with people staring at you, sad-eyeing you, asking you what happened.”

She didn’t. She really didn’t. And she remembered she’d had a black eye on her wedding day. Trina had masked it.

She went upstairs.

“This place,” Trina said. “I can’t get over it. It’s a feel-good in every square foot.” She led Eve into one of the guest rooms.

“You brought in a salon chair, and the stuff.”

“A classy one. I took the day off to do hair and makeup for anybody who wanted it.” She whipped out a cape, swirled it over Eve, pointed to the chair. “They’re really fun, interesting people. And Peabody’s bro-in-law. Whew! I’m going to start looking for a farmer. I’m going to shape up your hair while I’m at this.”

“But—”

“Shh. This cream I’m gonna put on your face first? It’s going to ease the soreness. Sit back, relax.”

Despite her innate scariness, Trina’s hands were as gentle as Bella’s lips. Deciding she had no choice, she let her mind drift while Trina chattered about party prep, the people she’d already met.

“Hey, Phoebe. How’s it going?”

At Trina’s greeting, Eve opened her eyes just before Peabody’s mother, an armload of bracelets jangling, took her hand.

A pretty woman, she wore her waterfall of dark hair in long loose curls—likely Trina’s doing. Her party dress, with its skirt flowing around her knees, with chains, beads, and crystals dripping over the bodice, hit the color of the crushed strawberries Eve had had for breakfast.

Brown eyes studied Eve minutely in what Eve thought must be the Mom Exam.

“Everything’s under control,” she told Trina. “How are you feeling, Eve?”

“Okay. Better. Fine.”

“I’ll go with the middle one, and add you can take a punch.”

“When I have to.” She dug for something more. “The light you made, it’s really beautiful.”