Obsidian Prey (12 page)

“I can handle him,” Nancy said confidently.

“Hmm.”

Vincent bounced up onto the end of the workbench, a cookie in one paw. He munched enthusiastically, showing no interest in the painting.

They both looked at him. Lyra noticed that the jaunty red beret was sitting at a precarious angle. She leaned forward to adjust the clip that kept the little red cap in place.

“Come on,” Nancy coaxed. “What’s one more little art auction at a small gallery? It won’t even cause a ripple.”

“You know as well as I do that if word gets out that Chimera is actually a dust bunny, the bottom would drop out of his market overnight,” Lyra said. “Mr. Anonymous would want all of his money refunded. Worse yet, he’d probably sue both of us. Not only would we both be ruined financially, our reputations would be shot.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll make it a very
private
auction. Only the most exclusive and discerning connoisseurs of modern art will be invited. And Mr. Anonymous, of course. We’ll keep it very hush-hush. The collectors will love it. The bidding will go crazy. We’ll get rich.”

“Well—”

“This is our chance to make some really big money, Lyra. Time to go for the amber ring, my friend. Why the hesitation? This isn’t like you. Where’s that gutsy Dore spirit? Is this the woman who tried to sue Amber Inc.?”

“This is the woman who is knee-deep in debt because she tried to sue Amber Inc.,” Lyra said dryly. “But when you’re right, you’re right. This is a golden opportunity. Let’s do it.” She paused, glancing at the copy of the
Herald.
“I can’t believe they called me an antiquities consultant instead of a tuner.”

“An antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele. They made it sound as though Cruz Sweetwater, himself, was one of your clients.”

“Wonder where the press got that idea?”

“Something tells me it came straight from the Amber Inc. publicity department,” Nancy said. “And that means they got it from Cruz Sweetwater. His way of trying to make amends, I’ll bet. In the art and antiquities world, you can’t buy publicity like that. He did you a huge favor. It was a very romantic thing to do, if you ask me.”

Lyra exhaled slowly, thinking about it. “You know, you’re right. Dinner with Cruz Sweetwater might be good for my career.”

“That’s it. Tell yourself you’re dating him because the publicity will be good for business.”

HER PHONE RANG JUST AS SHE OPENED THE BACK ROOM of her shop.

“Dore Tuning and Consulting,” she said, hitting the lights. She watched Vincent scamper across the room to where she kept a locked box of rez-brush paints and a canvas to entertain him during the long workdays.

“Miss Dore, please.”

The voice was male, smooth, authoritative, with just the right amount of upper-class power vibe. Not one of her regulars.

“Speaking,” she said.

“This is Wilson Revere. I understand you’re something of an expert on rare ambers.”

She froze, excitement pulsing through her. It was, of course, entirely possible that there was more than one Wilson Revere in Frequency City. But how many of them would be interested in a tuner who could handle rare ambers?

She cleared her throat and tried to assume an assured tone. “Would this be Wilson Revere of the RezStone corporation?”

He laughed. “One and the same. Sorry, I should have done a better job of introducing myself. Call me Wilson.”

“What can I do for you, uh, Wilson?”

“There’s an auction at the Fairstead Gallery tomorrow afternoon. I understand that there will be some interesting raw stones of rare amber up for sale. One of the specimens is amethyst. The consultant I usually employ for this sort of thing has no experience with that particular variety. I’d like you to attend the preview with me and give me your opinion before I bid. Are you free?”

She gripped the phone tighter. It was all she could do to maintain her cool, professional voice. “Let me check my appointment book.”

“Certainly.”

She forced herself to let a few seconds pass before she spoke to him again.

“Yes, Mr. Revere, it appears I’m free tomorrow afternoon. I’ll meet you at the Fairstead Gallery.”

“That will be fine. And, remember, it’s Wilson.”

“Right. Wilson.”

“Thank you, Miss Dore. I’ll look forward to meeting you in person tomorrow.”

He ended the connection.

Lyra looked at Vincent, who was perched on top of the rez-brush paint box, waiting for her to open it.

“I don’t think we’ll mention the name of my new client to Cruz,” she said. “I get the feeling there’s some bad blood between the Reveres and the Sweetwaters. Remember the tuner’s motto: ‘What happens in a tuner’s shop stays in a tuner’s shop.’ ”

“ I’M HAVING DINNER WITH YOU TONIGHT BECAUSE Nancy and I decided that being seen with you may be good for the antiquities consulting side of my business,” Lyra said. “Especially given the articles in today’s papers.”

Cruz looked at her across the width of the small, intimate booth. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Sure. Anytime. I take it that informing the media that I’m an exclusive antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele was your idea?”

“Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Well, thanks for that.”

Cruz’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Does that mean we’re even?”

“No.”

The small restaurant was not only one of the most expensive in the city, it was considered to be among the best by people who cared a lot about fine dining. Lyra tried not to appear impressed, but it was hard to fake a blasé attitude when you were sitting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, and your dinner partner was one of the most powerful men in the city.

The Emerald Bistro was located in the heart of a recently gentrified section of the Quarter. It was an elegant, discreetly lit enclave where the wealthy and the powerful could dine in a relaxed atmosphere among their own kind. The service was exquisite, the exotic cuisine was served in itty-bitty portions, and the wines on the leather-clad list started at a price that was well above her entire weekly food budget.

She and Cruz had been the subject of a number of veiled glances when they had arrived. But the staff and the other diners were giving the impression that her presence here tonight with one of the men of Amber Inc. was no big deal.

Cruz picked up his wineglass. “You look incredible this evening.”

“Thank you.”

She had gone with her standard gallery reception look, a sleek little black dress, high-heeled evening sandals, a pair of amber earrings, and her charm bracelet.

Cruz was once again in hit man black, but tonight he wore a more casual version of the look, a slouchy linen jacket, snug black trousers, and a black crewneck pull-over.

“What are we going to talk about?” she asked.

“My second chance?”

“I haven’t made a decision yet. At the moment, I’m not looking beyond dinner.”

Cruz smiled. “Guess I’d better hope dinner goes well.”

Little thrills chased down her spine. The edgy, reckless awareness was back again tonight. She knew the sensation had nothing to do with the ambient psi in the neighborhood. This was all about Cruz, she thought.

“I think we need to find a neutral subject,” she said.

“You and I don’t do neutral. Tell me about your grandfather.”

Startled, she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know about him?”

“I’ve got the other side of the story from my grandfather. I’m curious about the Dore version of events.”

“The Dore version is the correct one, of course.”

He looked amused. “Is that so?”

“Your grandfather stole my grandfather’s amber claim in a crooked game of poker.”

“My grandfather swears that he did not cheat. He won the deed to the Radiance Springs mine fair and square.”

“Hah. Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? Not many people would admit that they came by something as valuable as that amber claim dishonestly.”

“My grandfather also says that there was a woman involved,” Cruz added.

She sat back in the booth. “I never heard that. Who was she?”

“My grandmother. According to the Sweetwater edition of the story, our grandfathers both pursued her. She chose Jake Sweetwater. Arthur Dore did not take that well. That’s when he got drunk and challenged my grandfather to the poker game. It’s hard enough to play a decent game of poker when you’re sober, let alone when you’re three sheets to the wind.”

“But knowing that his opponent was drunk didn’t stop Big Jake Sweetwater from accepting the challenge, did it?”

“I’m not going to make excuses for him. Big Jake can look after himself. But I do know that things were rough out on the frontier fifty years ago. There was no room for screwing up, and that’s what your grandfather did.”

She winced. “I seem to be following in his footsteps.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“First, I lost what will probably be the most important discovery of my career to a Sweetwater, and then I spent way too much money trying to sue your company in an obviously futile attempt to get some revenge.”

Cruz drank a little wine and lowered the glass. “Sometimes you have to know when to walk away from the table.”

“Clearly you Sweetwaters are lucky when it comes to gambling.”

“Something else you should remember,” Cruz said.

“What’s that?”

“We’re lucky in love, as well.”

She went cold. “How nice for you.”

“Actually, it’s not an issue of luck for us Sweetwaters. More like an instinct.”

She widened her eyes. “Wow. An instinct for sex. Imagine Mother Nature coming up with something that clever. Who knew?”

“I didn’t say the instinct was for sex. Sex is different.”

“Oh, really? The members of your family aren’t interested in sex?”

Laughter lit his eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Well, I suppose it does explain why we never made it into the bedroom.”

Heat replaced the amusement in his eyes. “That worried you?”

She shrugged. “I’ll admit it made me a little curious at the time. But afterward I realized that what was going on between us was just a job as far as you were concerned.”

“Think so?”

“You got what you wanted with a few kisses and some sweet talk. There was no need to take advantage of the situation. In your own way, you’re an ethical man, Cruz Sweetwater. You live by a code. I can respect that.” She gave him a cool smile. “Just doesn’t happen to be my code.”

“It started out as a job, but that’s not how it went down. In the end, I figured you would forgive a few kisses. I wasn’t so sure that you would be able to forgive me if I took you to bed and then took control of the ruin.”

She swirled the wine in her glass. “It mattered to you whether or not I forgave you?”

“Sure.”

“Why?”

“I told you, the men in my family have an instinct for knowing the right woman when she comes along,” he said. “You’re the one for me.”

She raised her brows. “Do you get lucky with that line a lot?”

He did not return her smile. “Thought I explained; it’s not really luck. It’s an aspect of our talent.”

“You’ve got a talent for seduction, too? That must come in handy.”

“You know I’m not talking about seduction. I’m talking about the ability to sense a bond like the one that exists between you and me.”

“You’re telling me you’re psychic in that way? Gee, that’s a new one.”

He exhaled slowly. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Why? This is an interesting topic. We’re just getting into it.”

“True, but I can see that the subject has certain pitfalls.”

He was getting impatient, she realized. Maybe even a little irritated. She could tell it bothered him to know that he was not in complete control of the situation tonight. The poor man was probably not accustomed to having someone bait him the way she was doing.