J.D. Robb Quotes

Knowing that, too, was one

Love turned everybody's brain sideways, just like a stunner.

He did something he rarely did. He touched her. Just a pat of his hand over the back of hers. But it was, Eve realized, a kind of intimacy. An affectionate contact between comrades, and more personal than any act the victim had ever exchanged with a client.

brandy to sleep at night.

It's Major Ketchup in the bathroom with the laser scalpel."
"Hmm." He sliced a delicately herbed spear of asparagus. "Obviously we were meant for each other as I can interpret that as you meaning something more like Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick.

The wince and muffled oath he gave when he stepped into the water got a laugh out of her.
"It's not that hot."
"If I had a lobster, we'd boil it and eat it."
"You set the temp."
"So I did, and now, with no lobster in sight, we're boiling my balls."
He'd set it for her, she thought, so she could soak in the heat and the scent, turn off her mind with some relaxation program. She thought of what she'd overheard him saying to Mira, how he'd looked.
He needed this as much as she did.

Do you remember the first time we made love?" He touched his lips to hers as he said it. "We rode up in the elevator like this and couldn't keep our hands off each other, couldn't get to each other quick enough. I was mad for you. I wanted you more than I wanted to keep breathing. I still do." He deepened the kiss as the elevator doors opened. "It's never going to change.

As Eve strode down the bright white corridor of the dead, Peabody hustled beside her.
"Man, this place is always a little spooky, but this is beyond. You know how you half expect one of these bags to sit up and grab at you?"
"No. Wait out here. If one of them makes a run for it, give me a call."
"I don't think that's particularly funny." And watching the still black bags warily, Peabody took her post at the door.

She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.

Peabody, with me."
She waited until they were back in her office. "Don't hover over McNab like that."
"Sir?"
"You hover over him, you're going to make him think you're worried."
"I am worried. The twenty-four-"
"Worry all you want, dump on me if you need to. But don't let him see it. He's starting to fray, and he's trying hard not to show it. You try just as hard not to show it. If you need to vent, go out there on the kitchen terrace. Scream your lungs out."
"Is that what you do?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes I kick inanimate objects. Sometimes I jump Roarke and have jungle sex. The last," she said after a beat, "is not an option for you."
"But I think it would really make me feel better, and be a more productive member of the investigative team."
"Good, humor is good. Get me coffee.

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Religion was a riddle to her. Believe this, and only this, because we say so. If you don't you're buying a one-way ticket to everlasting Hell.

The dirty red light was flashing. Over and over through the window. SEX! LIVE! SEX! LIVE! She was only eight, but her mind was quick. She wondered if people would pay to see dead sex.

Mix up your routine," she told him as she started up the stairs. "Your out-of-the-house routine. The shopping, the visiting gravesites, haunting houses with the other ghouls--whatever it is you do. Mix it up for the next few days.

"I have a scheduled haunting tonight, but it can be postponed.

Why do sheep need a station? Are they catching trains? Where are they going? Why do they have to go there?

Can I borrow fifty bucks?"
"What?"
"I'm short until payday."
"You're short every day.

"What?"
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Very low. It's going to be one of the cast or crew, one of the people who worked with her, one of the people she pushed, insulted, threatened."
"Who pushed back." He got to his feet. "Celebrity murders," he muttered. "They'll probably make another goddamn vid." At Eve's stunned, slightly horrified expression, he smiled. "You could make book on it," he said. "Keep me updated. And don't be late for the media conference."
"Shit," Eve said when he'd gone out. "Shit. He could be right."
"Who'd play me in this one? I mean, it's really wild, isn't it? Somebody playing me investigating the murder of somebody who was playing me. And then there's - "
"Don't. You're giving me a headache. Get those runs done.

She doesn't like you, McNab.
I knoooow. I find that really attractive in a woman.

Love makes saints or sinners out of men.

When it's my turn, don't do this. Recycle the parts, burn the rest.

Eve got her first real clue why so many women carried handbags the size of water buffalos when Mira pulled a first aid kit out of hers. I'm

Who's with her?" Roarke asked, though he already knew. It was just like her.
"With her? Oh, ah, hmmm. Webster."
Silence fell, a clatter of broken bricks. Peabody folded her hands in her pockets and prepared for the explosion to follow.
"I see." When Roarke simply turned back to the screen and continued, she didn't know whether to be relieved or scared to death.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Life would be awfully dull if we could look back without regretting at least one affair.

In my hands is power. The power to hear or to destroy. To grant life or to cause death. I revere this gift, have honed it over time an art as magnificent and awesome as any painting in the Louvre.
I an art, I am science. In all ways that matter, I am God.
God must be ruthless and far-sighted. God studies his creations and selects. The best of these creations must be cherished, protected, sustained. Greatness rewards perfection.
Yet even the flawed have purpose.
A wise God experiment, considers, uses what comes into his hands and forges wonders. Yes, often without mercy, often with a violence the ordinary condemn.
We who hold power cannot be detracted by the condemnations of the ordinary, by the petty and pitiful laws of simple man. They are blind, their minds are closed with fear-fear of pain, fear of death. They are too limited to comprehend that death can be conquered.
I have nearly done so.
If my work was discovered, they, with their foolish laws and attitudes, would damn me.
When my work is complete, they will worship me.

U.N.? As in United Nations?" "No, U.N. as in Unidentified Numbskulls.

I hear the cock woke you up."
Eve choked on her coffee. "What?"
"Not that kind of cock." Sinead sent a sparkling look over her shoulder. "Though if that's true as well, good for you. I meant the rooster.

Divorced him - hired a fucking shark lawyer - excuse the language." "No problem. Cops hear words like lawyer all the time." Fanny

You sleep here?"
"I don't intend to sleep tonight." He interrupted her gawking by pulling her up the two stairs to the platform and tumbling her onto the bed.
"I have to check in by oh seven hundred."
"Shut up, lieutenant."
"Okay." With a half laugh, she rolled on top of him and fastened her mouth to his. Wild, reckless energy was bursting inside her. She couldn't move quickly enough, her hands weren't fast enough to satisfy the craving.

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That was the biggest problem with getting used to someone, she thought. You were lonely when they weren't there.

You've got no sense of humor."
"I'm going to laugh really hard after I kick your ass.

It's going to work."
"Classic," Roarke said.
"What's going to work? What's classic? I want my jacket."
"Forget it. You're going to walk right up to Milo the Mole's front door, and he's going to answer."
"I am? He is?"
"Damsel in distress, right?" Eve said to Roarke.
"A very alluring damsel. Clever, Lieutenant."
"Oh, okay. I get it. I look like I'm in trouble - all alone, unarmed. Harmless. Girl. He opens up to find out what's what. You should do it," Peabody told Eve.
"You're the one with the tits. Men are stupid for tits."
"Harsh," Roarke observed. "But largely true."
"Plus, you're the type, obviously, who appeals to skinny geeks."
"Oh yeah," McNab confirmed. "Completely.

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Bet you haven't had time to rub on the breast cream either." She turned on Roarke. "Some reason you can't slap some on your hands before you feel her up?" "I do try," he said, throwing Eve to the wolves without a qualm. "She's a difficult woman." "Let

No matter your race, creed, sexual orientation, or political affiliation, we protect and serve. Because you could get dead.'" "Even if you were an asshole. We added an addendum." On

You're a dead man, Roarke. You don't know it, but you've already stopped breathing. The walking dead. And when you finally realize you're dead, and drop to the ground and you're laying there, I'm going to step over your cold, lifeless body, open the doors of that department store you call a closet, and I torch it.
Eve Dallas

What you have with her will save her. Just as it saved you.

No, it had never been like this for him before, with anyone. Of all the women he'd known, she was the only one he was compelled to be with, driven to touch. Beyond the physical, the basic and apparently unsatiable lust she inspired in him, was a constant fascination. Her mind, her heart, her secrets, her scars. He had told her once they were two lost souls. He thought now he'd spoken no more than the truth. But with each other, they'd found something that rooted them. For a man who had been wary of cops all of his life, it was staggering to know his happiness now depended on one.

You're not really mean." Eve hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. "Am, too. Mean as spit, and don't you forget it.

As man-candy went, he was a caloric binge. Eve thought it was easy to see why he had so many clients paying for a nibble.

Maybe I just didn't want it to be Benny because he really loves her, and if I was wrong about that, it'd be depressing. Who wants to be depressed?"
"Poets," Eve decided. "You have to think they must."
"Okay, other than poets.

He loved her, wanted her, needed her, just as impossibly as she loved, wanted, needed him. Miraculos.

Eve, we're going to be married in a few days."
The jittering started again, big time. "Yeah."
"If he keeps looking at you like that, I'm going to have to hurt him.

As always, just the sight of him gave her a quick inner jolt. His face was like a painting, a depiction in perfect oils of some fallen angel. The sheer beauty of it, framed by all that rich black hair, was forever a surprise to her.

Then I'll tell you the simple and most complex answer is love. It's where you start, and where, if you work hard enough, want hard enough, you end.

How white is an Irishman's ass?" Eve wondered out loud.
"You should know, darling.

Side, party got out of hand. Guy shot five people with a

Yourself on my behalf." "Oh really. Is that so?" She stalked forward

That Chippendale is a coffee table, Lieutenant, not a footstool."
"How do you walk with that stick up your ass?" She left her feet where they were, propped comfortably on the table. "Does it hurt, or does it give you a nice little rush?"
"Your dinner guests," he said, curling his lip, "have arrived."
"Thank you, Summerset." Roarke got to his feet. "We'll have the hors d'oeuvres in here." He held out a hand to Eve.
She waited, deliberately, until Summerset had stepped out again before swinging her feet to the floor.
"In the interest of good fellowship," Roarke began as they started toward the foyer, "could you not mention the stick in Summerset's ass for the rest of the evening?"
"Okay. If he rags on me I'll just pull it out and beat him over the head with it."
"That should be entertaining.

Assaulting an officer will earn you one to five, Roarke. That's in a cage, not cushy home detention."
"You're not wearing your badge. Or anything else, for that matter." He gave her a friendly nip on the chin. "Be sure to put that in your report.

She glanced down at the cat bumping his head

We'll keep the three of them in separate rooms, keep changing interviewers on them. I'm betting on Young to fall first.'
Roarke eased out of the lot, headed for home. 'Why?'
'The bastard loves her. Love messes you up. You make mistakes 'cause you're worried, protective. Stupid.'
He smiled a little, brushed her hair back from her face, and she dropped steeply into sleep. 'Tell me about it.

Drugs, sex, Satan, and power, Eve mused. A religious war? Hadn't humans fought and died for beliefs since the dawn of time? Animals fought for territory; people fought for territory as well. And for gain, for passion, for beliefs. For the hell of it.

You think they've killed before?"
"I'd bet your ass on it"
"Why my ass?" Eyes slitted, Peabody jabbed a finger in the air. "Because it's bigger? Because it has more padding? That's hitting below the belt."
"Your ass is below your belt. I'd bet mine, too, if it makes you feel better.

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And that, she thought as he left her, summed up the miracle of her life. She had a home with him, and he'd be there.

Officer down. Officer down."
"I'm an officer now, am I? That's insult to injury.

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Confrontation while lounging in bed.

Man. God. Roarke.
An interesting and flattering lineup.

Just shut your mouth, you ignorant twat."
"Aw, Dallas, he called me a twat. How come you get to be a bitch, but I only get to be a twat."
"It's the rank," Eve told her. "You'll make bitch one day."
"Thanks. That means a lot to me.

God is dead and I am his replacement.

A cop did better cynical and suspicious.

Violence is as American as cherry pie. - RAP (HUBERT GEROLD) BROWN

If we do, I want to be the bad cop." "You're a lousy bad cop, Feeney. Face it." He gave her a mournful look. "I outrank you, Dallas." "I'm primary, and I'm better at bad cop. Live with it." "I always have to be the good cop," he muttered as they stepped into a well-lighted hallway with more marble, more gilt.

I couldn't fall out of love with you if I fell all the way to hell.

Roarke glanced over at the monitor briefly, saw Eve on screen facing a woman who'd tried to make herself her twin. The hair, the eyes.
She didn't come close, he thought, then forced himself to look away from the beat of his heart, and work to save her.
Roarke tuned it out, all of it. Just the sound of Eve's voice - not the words, just the sound of her voice - was all he let in as he worked to lift the most important lock of his life.

You know, darling, if caffeine ever makes it to the illegals list, you're going to have to register as an addict." "They try to make coffee an illegal, I'll kill them all, and it won't be an issue.

Eve woke, violently aroused. It was Roarke's hands on her. She knew their texture, their rhythm. Her heart tripped against her ribs, then bounded into her throat as his mouth covered hers. His was greedy, hot, giving her no choice, really no choice at all but to respond in kind. Even as she fumbled for him, those long, clever fingers pierced her, diving into her so that she bowed up into the frenzy of orgasm. His mouth on her breast, sucking, teeth scraping. His elegant hands relentless so that her cries came out in whimpers of shock and gratitude. Another staggering climax to layer thick over the first. Her hands sought purchase in the tangled sheets, but nothing could anchor her. As she flew up again, she gripped him, nails scraping down his back, up to grab handfuls of his hair.

"God!" It was the single coherent word she managed as he plunged into her, so hard, so deep she was amazed she didn't die from the pleasure of it. Her body bucked helplessly, frantically, continued to shudder even after he'd collapsed on her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and lazily nuzzled her ear. "Sorry to wake you.

Or the ploy Dahmer used - that classic had proven to do the job in all the decades following. Lone woman struggling to lift something heavy into the back of a vehicle. Can

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was so pissed off at what happened, at myself, I didn't think."
He stroked a hand down her hair first, then gave the choppy ends a quick tug. "I'm not angry with you."
"I know. You could be, but you're not. So I have to be even sorrier."
"Your logic is fascinating, and elusive."
"I can't pay you back with sex or salt-crusted sea bass or whatever because you're too busy taking care of me. So now I've got this black mark in my column against the bright shiny star in yours, and - "
He tipped her head up. "Are we keeping score?"
"No. Maybe. Shit."
"How am I doing?"
"Undisputed champ."
"Good. I like to win." He brushed her bangs back to study the injury himself. "You'll do. Let's eat.

She thinks you married me for power," he said as they walked on. "Renee. As that's what she would've done. The power and the money is one in the same to her."
"She's wrong. I married you for the sex."
He grinned. "So sure of that am I that I work diligently to hold up my end of it.

I love you, Eve." She looked away from the sun, the ocean, and into his eyes. And it was wonderful, and for the moment, it was simple.
"I missed you." She pressed her cheek to his and held him tightly. "I really missed you. I wore one of your shirts." She could laugh at herself now because he was here. She could smell him, touch him. "I actually went into your closet and stole one of your shirts - one of the black silk ones you have dozens of. I put it on, then snuck out of the house like a thief so Summerset wouldn't catch me."
Absurdly touched, he nuzzled her neck. "At night, I'd play your transmissions over, just so I could look at you, hear your voice."
"Really?" She giggled, a rare sound from her. "God, Roarke, we've gotten so sappy."
"We'll keep it our little secret."
"Deal." She leaned back to look at his face.

Damn it, Roarke, he's going to come back and poke at me, and try to make me drink one of his weird brews. I just need a hot shower. Let me up. Have a heart."

"I do, and it's yours.

Roarke made some notations on the fax - a

Marriage is a freaking minefield.

She wondered why two people who loved each other to the point of stupid managed to aggravate each other as often as they seemed to.

What are you drinking?" "Number fifty-four; it's supposed to be a chardonnay." Experimentally, Eve sipped again. "It's at least three steps up from horse piss. I recommend it.

Eve talking to someone on her computer and having trouble with the language translator.
... "I have two like crimes. Your data and your input on Leclerk would be very helpful"
Marie pursed her lips and humor danced in her eyes.
"It says you would like to have sex with me. I don't think that is correct"
"Oh, for Christ sake" Eve slammed a fist against the machine ...

Roarke: "Our engines don't run at the same speed."
Eve: "What the hell does that mean?"
Roarke: "Just that."
Eve: "It sounds like something that ought to piss me off. But I can't figure out exactly why. When I do, I might have to pop you one."
Roarke: "I'll look forward to it. If you don't sleep, eat. You need something in your stomach. And what are you grinning at?"
Eve: "You. You're such a wife."
Roarke: "Now, I'm pissed off.

matron of honor, that's where I'd advise you

The statute of limitations . . . She's put it behind her. Or I hope she has. She'd have put it behind her, Eve thought, but it was always behind you. In a corner, in the dark. Squatting there behind you and chuckling in its throat.

Yeah, probably. Homicide: Our day starts when yours ends. Permanently." "You should sew that on a pillow.

You have a point, but love can also cause you to see things as you prefer to see them, as you want them to be.

propped up a little as her eyes adjusted. She hardly ever got to watch Roarke sleep. Most of the time he rose before she did. And sleep for her tended to be wandering in lucid, often disturbing dreams,

No screen?" She nudged him away, scanned the walls. "Seriously? What kind of place is this?"
"The sort where people use bedrooms for sex and sleep, which is exactly waht I have in mind." To prove it, he tumbled her onto the bed.
It squeaked.
"What is that? Did you hear that? Is there a farm animal in here?"
"I'm fairly certain they keep those outside. It's the bed." He tugged her shirt over her head.
Testing, she lifted her hips, let them fall. "Oh, for God's sake. We can't do this on a talking bed. Everybody in the house will know what's going on in here."
Enjoying himself, he nuzzled at her throat. "I believe they already suspect we have sex."
"Maybe, but that's different than having the bed yell out, 'Whoopee!'"
Was it any wonder he adored her? he thought.

Eve: "You already own half the universe"
Roarke: "Why settle for half when you can have all?

She would be a sparkling accent on his arm. She speaks flawless French and Italian, and has a limitless supply of charm when she wishes to dispense it. And'd she'll use him. She'll take, take more. If it was necessary, or if she simply had the whim, she'd toss him to the wolves to see who'd win."
He finished the whiskey. "You, Lieutenant, are often crude, you are certainly rude, and have very little sense of how to be the wife
in public
of a man in Roarke's position. And you would do anything, no matter what the personal risk, to keep him from harm. She will never love him. You will never do anything but.

The media's no more objective than the last ratings term.

She'd gotten through the entire evening without killing anyone. Lieutenant Eve Dallas, cop to the bone, figured the restraint showed enormous strength of character.

Why would I kill someone I don't know, when I know so many people who irritate me, and havent't killed any of them?

I want to keep you, till the end of days.

Didn't people consider what could happen if armies of farm animals united in revolt?

Winning can be addictive," Mira agreed. "So can murder.

Breath is life. You are not the pebble washed to shore by the wave, but the fish that swims in the wave. Breathe in to fill, to draw in the light. Slow," he told her, "with awareness. Breathe out to empty. And pause, hold in that space between. Now in to fill.

I don't give a rat's warty ass she's dead. It only means she's a dead cunt."
"That's a strong opinion."
"And the only kind worth having. I threatened to shove a stick up her twat and light it on fire just yesterday. Maybe the day before. I lose track as there was rarely a day that went by she didn't make me want to strangle her with my bare hands after I'd beaten her in the face with a rusty shovel.

DeBlass's eyes darted left and right. His breathing grew hard and fast.
"My client does not acknowledge ownership of the weapon in question."
"Your client's scum."
The lawyer puffed up. "Lieutenant Dallas, you're speaking of a United States Senator."
"That makes him elected scum.

you know, I'm only marrying you for sex and food.

A nice-looking boy pays attention, says the right things, looks at you just a certain way. You're not smart anymore.

Friendships were so damn complicated, so bound with sharp edges that could jab a hole through you at any given point.

I expected to have some tags from reporters, but I'm clear there so far."
"I've had all inquiries from media rerouted to my office."
She narrowed her eyes "You can do that?"
"I can."
"Why don't you always do that?

You have to be naked with somebody for more than two hours for them to qualify as an ex. It's a law.

Who's a girl?"
"You're mine." His hands glided down her back, around and up to her breasts. "You're my girl."
"Sap," she said, but in a little sigh as she gave him her lips again.
She'd never been anybody's girl, had never wanted to be. It had always seemed a weak term to her, one of submission and vulnerability. But with him, it was sweet and foolish, and just exactly right.

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I shopped,"she said
"Dear God! Are you all right? Should I call for the MTs?"
"Smartass.

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I've eliminated everything else. This is what's left. And when you've eliminated everything else, what's left should be true.