Harmony 03 After Glow (22 page)

“My folks were ruin explorers. They went on expeditions to find and map lost sites in remote locations. They were killed in a freakish storm that caused a massive landslide that wiped out their base camp.”

“And now you’re all alone in the world?” Gannon asked gently.

“No, she is not alone in the world,” Emmett said in a stunningly dangerous voice. “She’s got a husband.”

Gannon brought Lydia to a halt, released her, and turned to face Emmett. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Lydia could feel the tension sizzling in the air. It baffled her at first, and then, when she realized that Emmett was doing the intimidation thing with his eyes, she got annoyed.

“Mr. Hepscott, this is my husband, Emmett London,” she said swiftly. “Emmett, this is Gannon Hepscott, my new client. I’ve mentioned him on several occasions. The Underground Experience Resort project?”

“Hepscott.”

“London.” Gannon’s smile could only be described as taunting. “I’m looking forward to working closely with your wife. I was just telling her that I have always had a keen interest in para-archaeology.”

“Is that right?” Emmett said.

Gannon’s smile held an unmistakable challenge. He was either supremely confident in his own position and power or else he just wasn’t very bright, Lydia thought.

“Lydia and I are going to make a terrific team,” Gannon said, loading the words with nuance.

Emmett’s brows rose slightly. “Think so?”

“How can we miss?” Gannon chuckled. “I’ve got the money and she’s got the brains. Should make for a perfect partnership.”

Lydia went from annoyed to nervous. What was going on here? She could have sworn that Gannon was deliberately baiting Emmett.

“My wife is a very busy woman,” Emmett said.

“For now.” Gannon shrugged. “But I hear the two of you got an MC, not a Covenant Marriage. A year goes by very quickly, doesn’t it?”

She had to do something and she had to do it fast, Lydia decided. She stepped smartly between the two men.

“Do you know this is my first time inside the Restoration Hall ballroom,” she said lightly. “I’m so impressed with the murals. I’ve read about them and seen reproductions, of course, but I had no idea of the size and scale. Aren’t they magnificent?”

Emmett and Gannon looked at her.

“The scope and the brilliance of the painting takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” Lydia waved grandly at the closest mural, which depicted a battle between a band of intrepid ghost-hunters and Vincent Lee Vance’s minions. “Of course, the subject matter is so inspiring. I mean, it was such a near thing, wasn’t it? Vance came so close to establishing his crazed vision of a dictatorship. If it hadn’t been for the Guilds who knows where we would all be today?”

“The hunters certainly earned their pay during the Era of Discord.” Gannon glanced at Emmett with amused disdain. “And we’ve been paying them off ever since.”

He inclined his head to Lydia, gave Emmett his shoulder, and walked away into the crowd.

Emmett watched him go. Lydia did not like the expression on his face.

“Don’t even think about causing a scene, London,” she warned out of the side of her mouth. “I will never, ever forgive you.”

“Okay, but you know, I really hate it when a guy like that gets the good exit line.”

She was so relieved she started to giggle. The heads of several people who had been listening discreetly to the exchange between the two men turned toward her in open curiosity. Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth but her shoulders were shaking with laughter and she could feel her eyes threatening to tear. Panicked at the thought of ruining her carefully applied makeup, she blinked rapidly.

Emmett swept her out onto the dance floor before she could make a complete fool of herself.

The moment of hysteria passed. She started to wonder if she was dreaming. She was in the arms of the man she loved and she was dancing at the Restoration Ball. Amberella, eat your heart out.

An hour later she found herself standing with a group of women that included the wives of two representatives to the City-State Federation, a famous actress, and a prominent socialite.

The conversation was not going well. The glamorous excitement of the evening was fading fast as reality set in. Oh, sure, the dancing was fun and she was taking mental notes on every celebrity she saw so that she could report back to Melanie. But the grim necessity of making small talk with a lot of boring, superficial people who seemed interested only in making sure that everyone else knew how much power and influence they wielded was becoming extremely tiresome.

It was just an upscale version of the old game of one-upmanship, she thought. All in all, not much different from the dull sherry hours she’d been obliged to attend while on the faculty at the university. Except that the clothes here were a lot better.

“An interesting gown,” the socialite said, giving Lydia’s dress an appraising look. “I heard it was a Finella but it certainly doesn’t have her classic signature look. A knockoff, from one of the other salons, perhaps?”

Translated, that meant that everyone now knew she wasn’t wearing one of the designer’s originals, Lydia thought. The actress and the two politicians’ wives perked up immediately. Red meat at last.

Lydia smiled at the socialite. Did the blonde fool think she could be intimidated so easily? She’d dealt with arrogant, ambitious professors who could slice another scholar to ribbons with one scathing crack about the quality of the other person’s research.

“Finella’s designs are beautiful but a bit too, well, shall we say,
traditional
for my taste,” Lydia said. “I prefer a more cutting-edge look. This gown was created by a new designer who works in Finella’s salon. His name is Charles. Finella thinks he’s a genius. I agree.”

There was a short pause while they all absorbed that sally. If they did not go along with her they would find themselves in the position of disagreeing with the taste and judgment of the great Finella. On the other hand, if they showed approval they would be acknowledging that Lydia’s gown was spectacular.

Unfortunately, before any of the women could untangle herself from the trap Lydia had set, Emmett materialized at her elbow. Instantly all attention switched to him. Lydia was sure she saw naked lust in the actress’s eyes.

“Ladies.” Emmett acknowledged the small group and took Lydia’s arm. “Would you mind if I steal my wife away for another dance?”

“Newlyweds,” the actress said, sarcasm dripping like poison. “They’re so cute.”

Lydia pretended that she had not heard the remark and made her farewells.

Emmett drew her quickly into the densest part of the crowd. Her first reaction was relief at the speedy escape from the unpleasant company.

“Am I glad to see you,” she said. Then she noticed that they were on the opposite side of the ballroom, heading toward a side door, not the dance floor. “What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving, but I want to slip out without attracting any attention.”

“Why?”

“I just got a message from Verwood. He’s waiting out back with the Slider.”

“What is it? Did Wyatt take a turn for the worse?”

“No. Verwood found his former mistress Sandra Thornton.”

L
YDIA SAT TENSELY
in the front seat of the Slider. Emmett was at the wheel, easing the car through a maze of side streets in order to avoid the traffic and congestion on the main thoroughfares. Verwood loomed large in the rear seat.

The two had explained Sandra Thornton’s role in the affair. A hasty plan of action had been hatched, but Lydia did not like it. She had decided to make her feelings on the subject known.

“I think you should take me with you when you go talk to this Sandra Thornton,” she said.

“I told you, I want you to stay out of this.” Emmett did not take his eyes off the dark streets.

“We’ve been through this before. You can’t keep me out of it. We both know that.”

Verwood had not said much after greeting her with a respectful nod but she knew that he was taking in every word of the argument. Given his position there in the backseat, it would have been impossible for him not to hear every word. Emmett was probably not real happy about having his security chief listening to what amounted to a domestic spat but she refused to back down. Her intuition told her that it was important that she go with him.

“Mr. Verwood says she’s living alone,” Lydia continued. “Just imagine how she’s going to feel when she finds the two of you at her front door at this hour. She’ll probably panic.”

“That’d be the right thing to do,” Verwood said, “if she shot the boss, that is.”

“But what if she wasn’t the one who shot him?” Lydia struggled to hang on to her patience. “And even if she did have something to do with the shooting, you need information from her, not hysterical panic. If she sees me, she’ll be a lot less likely to rez-out on you.”

“Huh.” Verwood appeared to be somewhat struck by that observation. “Y’know, she’s got a point, sir.”

“Yeah.” Emmett slowed the Slider to a crawl and drove along a narrow lane that led into the Old Quarter. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Verwood folded his arms on the back of the seat. “Guys down at the Guild Hall are all talking about you, ma’am.”

Lydia winced. “Is that anything like having the guys in the locker room talking about me?”

“ ’Course not.” Verwood was shocked by the analogy. “The guys are really impressed. Some of them worked with you while you were at the university. They said you’re one hell of a tangler.”

“Oh.” She was taken aback by that news. She hadn’t realized that the hunters gossiped about such things, she mused.

“Everyone down at the hall knows how you managed to find your way out of the tunnels after you’d been lost down there all on your own without any amber, for two whole days,” Verwood added. “Pretty impressive.”

“Mmm.” She decided not to mention that the reason she had found herself in that predicament was because two members of the Guild had abandoned her.

“Most people who went through something like that, assuming they survived, would’ve ended up in a nice quiet parapsych ward.” Verwood tapped his forefinger against his temple. “Probably never be able to work underground again. But we all know how you helped Mr. London, here, find his nephew after the boy got himself kidnapped. The guys say you went back into the catacombs just as cool as you please and never blinked.”

“The reports of the effects of my underground disaster were greatly exaggerated,” Lydia retorted.

“And this afternoon everyone was talking about how you took Jack Brodie and his girlfriend out to lunch at the fanciest place in town and made ’em give you a table even though the snooty head waiter tried to pretend they didn’t have a reservation.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Lydia mumbled.

“There were some who claimed that you weren’t a real Guild wife on account of you weren’t born into a Guild family and didn’t know our traditions. But they sure changed their tune after they heard how you walked into that meeting of the Council today and told ’em how you were there to claim your Guild wife rights.” Verwood whistled. “It was just like you’d been born and bred in the Guild.”

“Yes, well—”

“You sure shut down Dorning’s plans to issue a challenge,” Verwood said happily. “Never did like that guy. Real ambitious and he doesn’t care how he gets to the top. Fact is, the first thing I did after I heard about the boss getting shot was check out Dorning’s alibi for that night.”

“You did?” Lydia turned quickly in her seat to peer at him through the shadows. “I take it he was in the clear?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone to do his dirty work, right, Mr. London?”

“It’s a possibility,” Emmett conceded.

“So, there are some other suspects besides this Sandra Thornton,” Lydia said softly.

“Oh, yeah.” Verwood shrugged. “Guild bosses always have enemies. Part of the job description.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that.” Lydia shuddered and turned back to face the windshield. Please let this be over soon, she thought.

Emmett shot Verwood a warning glance in the rearview mirror. “I think you’ve said enough.”

“Yes, sir.” Belatedly realizing that he had annoyed his boss, Verwood tried to recover from his conversational faux pas. “Anyhow, down at the Guild Hall, everyone’s talking about how they can sure see why you married this nice lady, Mr. London.”

“What can I say?” Emmett muttered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The apartment house where Sandra Thornton lived was located on one of the darker, meaner streets in the Old Quarter. Emmett got out of the Slider and studied the shabby-looking building. Most of the windows were dark. A couple were boarded up. You could almost smell the decay.

“Are you sure about the address, Verwood?” Emmett asked.

“Yes, sir.” Verwood extricated himself from the back of the Slider and joined him on the cracked sidewalk. “I watched her come and go a couple of times this afternoon. She’s got a key to the front door. Her car is that old Float parked near the curb. She lives here, all right.”

Lydia walked around the front of the Slider, frowning at the heavily shadowed doorway across the street. In spite of the distractions presented by the business at hand, Emmett was intensely aware of her. Dressed in the sleek midnight-blue gown and sexy high heels, with little whispers of stray psi energy writhing around her, she made him want to head straight for the nearest bedroom. Or the backseat of the Slider, for that matter.

He got a flashback to the glittering ballroom they had just left and thought about his reaction to the sight of Lydia dancing with Hepscott. The thought of her working closely with the developer for the next few months was deeply disturbing.

“What’s wrong, Emmett?” Lydia asked quietly.

He pulled himself back to the present. There would be ample time to brood over the problem of Gannon Hepscott in the future.

“I’ve got to tell you that I’m a little surprised that Sandra Thornton is living in a run-down place in a bad part of town.” He shrugged. “Whatever else you can say about him, the fact is Wyatt has a reputation for being generous with his women. When he ends a relationship, he usually softens the blow with a few valuable parting gifts. Jewelry. Stock in Guild funds. That kind of thing.”