strength of any focus link diminished swiftly with even a few feet of distance between talent and prism.
Zinnia considered the situation. There was nothing she could do about what had just happened. She had no proof that she had been attacked by a psychic vampire. The casino security would laugh if she tried to explain. The only people who would believe her were her friends at Psynergy, Inc.
She finished the water and tossed the cup aside. Casino security personnel would scorn her tale of psychic vampirism, but she had a hunch Nick Chas-tain's thugs would be interested to know that a powerful talent was trying to manipulate the gin-poker game.
A semblance of a plan took shape. She had been wondering how to distract Chastain's people long enough to get inside his office.
With renewed determination, she shoved open the door of the ladies' room and walked back out into the gaudy, glittering casino. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. The gaming floor was crowded with elegantly dressed men and women. They hovered over the tables, excitement and desperation pouring off their bodies in waves. Cocktail servers dressed in spangled costumes circulated through the crowds with trays of drinks.
Zinnia turned and walked briskly down a carpeted hall. She went past the ornate black-and-gold mirrored elevators and found a door that opened onto the emergency stairs.
With a quick glance around to make sure that no one had noticed her, she stepped into the concrete stairwell and closed the door. Hitching her shoulder bag higher, she hurried up the steps.
On the second floor she found a door marked PRIVATE. She took a deep breath, gripped the knob and prayed it would not be locked.
It wasn't. She stepped out into a dimly lit mirrored hall carpeted in crimson and studded with gilded pillars. The decor made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. She had not yet met Nick Chastain but she had seen enough of his lamentably bad taste to know that she was not going to like him very much. They obviously had nothing in common.
'Can I help, ma'am?'
The low growl of a voice came from behind her. Zinnia whirled around and found herself facing a short, wide, massively built man who looked completely out of place in his formal black evening clothes. His shaved head gleamed in the glow of the torchier lamps. Pale eyes glinted from beneath brows that had been plucked to a thin arched line. The pointed black goatee looked ludicrous on his broad face, but Zinnia decided not to advise him of that fact.
She drew herself up with what she hoped was an authoritative air. 'I'm looking for Mr. Chastain.'
'Got an appointment?'
Zinnia favored the guard with a superior smile. 'Yes, of course. He's expecting me.'
The man's bald head glinted as he glanced at the closed door at the end of the hall. 'Mr. Chastain is busy at the moment. He asked not to be disturbed. If you'll have a seat in the reception area, I'll tell the receptionist to let him know you're here.'
Zinnia tapped the toe of one red high-heeled shoe and glanced at her watch. 'I haven't got much time. Look, I'm unarmed.' She removed her slim shoulder bag and held it open so that the guard could see the small wallet, comb and lipstick inside. 'I'm absolutely no threat to Mr. Chastain. I really must speak with him immediately.'
'Why?'
'If you must know, I'm a prism consultant from Psynergy, Inc. Mr. Chastain asked my firm to run an outside check on gaming-floor security. I've concluded the project and I'm ready to make my report.'
'I wasn't told nothing about no outside consultant.'
Two more heavily muscled men dressed in ill-fitting formal black jackets materialized behind the short, wide guard. They were obviously on alert, but they remained discreetly in the background.
Zinnia gave the bald guard a cool smile. 'As I said, it was a security matter.'
'I'm in charge of security around here.'
'Could have fooled me. I thought perhaps you were Chastain's interior designer.' Zinnia spun around and lunged for the closed door at the end of the hall.
She could only hope that the guards would hesitate to use force against a guest who presented no clear threat. Chastain wouldn't want to have to explain the mangled body of an innocent casino patron in his tastelessly decorated hall. Bad for public relations.
'Five hells.' The wide man showed a surprising turn of speed as he lurched into pursuit. 'Come back here.'
Zinnia reached the closed door, seized hold of the knob, twisted, and shoved hard.
The guard's paw closed over her shoulder just as the door slammed open to reveal a crimson, black, and gilt chamber that was even more outrageous than the ladies' restroom.
There were two men inside the chamber. Both turned toward her.
The well-dressed little man seated in front of the gleaming black desk looked harmless. The one lounging in the black-and-gold throne did not.
'Sorry for the interruption, boss,' the guard said. 'I'll take care of it.'
Zinnia flung out her hands and grabbed the edges of the door frame as the guard started to pull her back out into the hall. She glowered at the man behind the desk.
'Mr. Chastain, I presume,' she said loudly.
Nick Chastain looked at her with cold, curious eyes. In that gaze Zinnia saw a slashing intelligence, awesome self-control, and the promise of power. A strange shiver of awareness went through her.
'Is there a problem here, Mr. Feather?' Nick asked in a soft low voice.
'No, problem, boss.' Feather's hand tightened on Zinnia's shoulder. 'Just a little misunderstanding.' He started to peel Zinnia away from the door.
'Hold it.' Zinnia tightened her grip on the frame. 'Mr. Chastain, I suggest we talk right now. Unless, of course, you want every cop in New Seattle here in this casino tonight.'
Nick raised one black brow. He considered her for a long moment. Zinnia could sense everyone around her holding his breath. She made herself inhale. She would not be intimidated by a casino owner with bad taste.
Nick smiled. Zinnia almost lost her nerve.
'Very well.' Nick glanced at the nervous man perched in the chair. 'You may go, Mr. Batt. I'll be in touch.'
'Yes, Mr. Chastain.' Batt leaped to his feet and hurried toward the door with the air of a man who has just received a temporary reprieve from some unpleasant fate.
Zinnia gave him a sympathetic look as she ducked from under Feather's heavy hand and stepped out of the way. Batt skittered past her and fled down the hall.
Feather closed the door quietly. Zinnia found herself alone at last with Nick Chastain.
'What can I do for you, Miss ... ah, I don't believe I caught the name.'
'Spring. Zinnia Spring. And I'll tell you exactly what you can do for me, Mr. Chastain. You can produce Morris Fenwick. Immediately. If you don't release him at once, I'm going straight to the police. I'll have you charged with kidnapping.'
Chapter 3
'Are you telling me that Morris Fenwick has disappeared?' Nick concealed his rage and frustration behind a calm emotionless mask of polite interest. It was not easy.
'Don't play the innocent, Mr. Chastain. Mr. Fenwick is a client of mine. He told me that he was negotiating with you for the sale of an old journal that he had discovered. He said you wanted it badly.'
'I do,' Nick said very softly.
Zinnia Spring's fingers clenched more tightly around the strap of her shoulder bag.
So much for the expression of polite interest, Nick thought. His determination to get his hands on the journal was obviously leaking through the mask. He watched Zinnia narrow her very fine, very unusual, very clear eyes. He had never seen eyes quite that color. For some reason the odd silvery blue fascinated him.
'Morris also told me that he had informed you that he had another potential customer for the journal,' she
