The computer. And while we’d had everything backed up, spotting that globule oddly reminded me of the cuff link I’d found at Lauren’s place on the Gold Coast. I’d shoved it in my purse and had promptly forgotten about it, which was stupid, given that finding out who’d made the thing might just provide our next step forward.
I got my phone and Googled “maker’s marks using the letters RJ.” Over a dozen different links immediately popped up, so I headed into the bedroom, plopped down on the bed, and started going through them. After trawling through nine different sites and coming up empty, I hit a U.S.-based site that listed trademarks and contact details for artists and metalsmiths, both in the U.S. and overseas. And that’s where I hit gold – or silver, given most of the smiths listed on the site appeared to deal more in that than gold. The maker was one Rubin Johnson, originally from Santa Fe, but now living and working in Sydney, Australia. It listed a shop address rather than a home one, so I checked the yellow pages and confirmed the address was still current. A search for his home address didn’t reveal anything. Maybe his listing was private.
“Do you wish to talk to him?” Azriel asked.
I glanced at my watch. “Yes, but not right now. It’s barely six. He’s not likely to be there until nine.”
“Which leaves us with three hours to fill. Unless, of course, you have something else you plan to do.”
I half smiled. “I know what I’d love to do, but I’m thinking you might veto the suggestion.”
“You’d be thinking right.” His expression was severe but amusement crinkled the corners of his blue eyes. “I would love nothing more than to be with you physically, but we cannot afford the distraction given the Raziq, your father, and Hunter all want to assure your allegiance is to them alone.”
“Yeah, but none of them can get into our home. Not with my father’s wards in place.”
“The wards will not stop Ania, and your father is as capable of enforcing his will on them as the Raziq. And Hunter will have many contract killers who are not vampires she could call on.”
I poked his chest with a stiffened finger. “You, reaper, are such a spoilsport.”
He caught my hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “Trust me, if we survive all this, I intend to make love to you so often and so well that you will beg me to stop.”
I laughed and stepped close enough that my breasts were pressed against his chest. “I’m part werewolf, remember. You could be waiting a long time for me to beg off.”
“I should hope so.” He kissed me, long and slow, before finally adding, “In the meantime, you should rest.”
I sighed again. “I guess if you’re going to insist —”
“And I am.”
“Then you’d better escort me to bed, James.”
He did. And, frustratingly, did nothing more than that.
The first thing I did when I woke was ring Mike at his office. It was eight thirty, so I had no doubt he’d be there by now.
“Good morning, Risa.” The voice was plummy and feminine, and belonged to his secretary, Beatrice. “You’re calling early – hope there’s not a problem.”
“There’s not.” The vid-phone was turned off on her end, so I couldn’t see what color her hair was this month. But the last time I’d been at the office it had been pale purple, and the month before that a vibrant red. Despite her age, she loved hair color variety as much as I loved Coke and cake. “Mike left me a message to give him a call ASAP. Is he around?”
“Just a moment, and I’ll put you through.”
There was a click, a brief moment of silence, then Mike’s aristocratic features came on-screen. I didn’t actually know how old Mike was – he didn’t look old, and yet he didn’t seem young, either. His hair was black but cut short, the dark curls clinging close to his head like a helmet. His eyes – a clear, striking gray – seemed to hold eons of knowledge behind them. Given Mom had once commented that he had a genius-level IQ, I guess that was to be expected.
“Risa,” he said, his voice low and pleasant, “thank you for ringing back so promptly.”
“I thought I’d better. It sounded urgent.”
“Not so much urgent, more a warning.”
I raised my eyebrows. “About what?”
“About the tax department’s crackdown on small businesses. I just wanted to make sure you have all receipts in order, just in case RYT’s is in line to be audited.”
“Aside from the last couple of weeks, yes.” And he knew that, so why ring me? It wasn’t like the possibility of being audited was new, but as far as I knew, businesses like our cafe were generally only targeted when certain flags were thrown up. “Have they contacted us?”
“No, I just wanted to ensure everything was in order on the off chance we were.”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure why, but something just didn’t feel right. “Mike, is everything okay?”
One dark eyebrow rose. It made his nose look overly large. “Yes, of course it is. Why?”
“You just seem… out of sorts.” I cleared my throat. “And then there’s the dinner invitation, which basically came out of nowhere.”
“Not really. Your mother and I —”
“I’m not Mom,” I reminded him gently. “I can’t give you what she gave you.”
Something close to horror flitted across his face. “Good god, you don’t think I want to —”
“No,” I cut in hastily. “I don’t. But I do think that perhaps you’re missing her, and I’m the next best thing to being with her.”
But even as I spoke, I couldn’t help noticing that for all his outrage, his gaze remained steely. Calculating.
Something was
“I do miss her,” he said. “Enormously. But to imply I might wish to capture what I had with her with you is beyond —”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Mike,” I cut in again. “The invitation surprised me, that’s all. And I’m more than happy to have dinner one night.”
“I have no desire to make you uncomfortable,” he replied, voice cool.
“Mike, it’s fine. I’m busy for the next day or so, but I’m free anytime after that.” If the Raziq, my father, or the wanna-be queen of the world didn’t have other plans for me, that is.
He sniffed. It was an oddly regal sound that stirred the edges of memory, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. “Friday then?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“I shall let you know when and where. Until then, good-bye.”
And with that, he hung up. Great. I’d managed to offend the man my mother had not only trusted financially, but apparently depended on emotionally and physically for a good part of her life. It seemed to be my lot of late to make all the wrong moves.
“You have trusted your instincts up until now,” Azriel commented. “It would be foolish to ignore them, even if the person involved was a friend of your mother’s.”
I twisted around. He was back in his usual spot, his arms crossed as he stared out the window rather than at me. The morning sunshine caressed his skin, lending it a warm golden glow.
“Which is why I agreed to meet him for dinner. It’s easier to sense when someone is lying face-to-face.” I eyed him for a moment, sensing tension even if there was no evidence of it in the way he stood. “Are you annoyed that I’m meeting him?”
“No. And you do not have to explain your motives to me.”
He might be saying he wasn’t annoyed, but the emotion swirling through the link between us suggested otherwise.
“I agree – I don’t. I just wanted to.” I flipped the bedcovers off my legs and walked over to him. He didn’t move, so I wrapped my hands around his waist and rested a cheek on his shoulder. “Misunderstanding, an unwillingness to trust, and sheer pigheadedness – all mostly on my part, granted – is no way to start a relationship. I’m trying to make up for all that, but you have to do the same, Azriel.”
“I do not understand what you mean.”
