Пророк. Андрей Воронин

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СКАЧАТЬ care he took with the crease in his trousers.

      “Decision-making time, Mr. Tremaine.” Tori leaned back into her chair, the relaxed pose belying the nerves scampering along her spine. “That folder proves I’m capable of conducting the investigation you’re interested in. I’m also tenacious and a good listener.” Because that last had him raising his eyebrows, she shrugged modestly. “People tend to talk to me. That’s a plus in my line of work. And it might be to your advantage to use a woman on this case, did you ever think of that?” At his arrested expression she knew she’d scored a direct hit. “I’m assuming you’ll want this kept quiet.”

      “Discretion is imperative.”

      She nodded. She offered nothing less to her clients. “As a female I’m apt to rouse less suspicion in certain circles. I can go places, do things, that men can’t.”

      He was silent long enough to have disappointment welling inside her, a slow steady surge. Until that moment she hadn’t let herself think of failure, but it faced her now, stark and uncompromising. It was the first job she’d pitched since her dad had died. The first door, since then, to be shut in her face. His death had become a yardstick by which she measured a lot of firsts these days. And lasts.

      Snapping the locks shut on the briefcase, she rose, ready to thank him for his time and determined to keep the emotion from her voice.

      “I’ll give you a week trial.” Her mouth dropped, “A thousand a week plus expenses, within reason. At the end of that time, I’ll evaluate what you’ve come up with. If I’m not satisfied, you’ll hand over what information you’ve accumulated and we’ll part ways.”

      “I…” She swallowed hard and tried to recover her power of speech. “All right. I usually give weekly updates, but under the circumstances…”

      “I’ll want daily reports.”

      His interruption had her gritting her teeth, but she managed to nod agreeably. She had, after all, gotten exactly what she’d come here for. “All right.”

      “I’ll have my lawyer draft a contract tomorrow. You can wait until after you’ve signed it, or start work right away, whichever you’re most comfortable with.”

      Now that his decision had been made, he’d changed slightly, she thought. She studied him as he strode to the desk. He’d reverted to type, she realized suddenly. It was the earlier indecision that had been foreign for him. James Tremaine would be a man very much in control of any situation. And now that he’d hired her, now that she’d become just another employee, he was firmly back in charge.

      He approached her again with the money she’d returned to him. “You may as well keep this. Half now, and we’ll settle the rest at the end of the week. Are those terms acceptable?”

      Slowly, she reached out to take the money. “Sure.” Taking the cash from him, she reopened the briefcase and dropped the money inside. “I’m assuming you kept the original file my father put together for you. I’d like a copy of it sent over with the contract.” She didn’t doubt that he still had it. He wouldn’t be a man to leave anything to chance.

      “I’ll do that.”

      “So.” Tori sat down and drummed her fingertips against the case in her lap. “Why don’t you tell me what caused you to want to reexamine this? Why now?” She could wait for the file. She didn’t expect to find any surprises in it. Her father apparently hadn’t encountered any during his investigation all that time ago. Her curiosity was more focused on what had made Tremaine decide to dredge up painful ancient history. He wouldn’t be the type to do anything without a reason.

      As an answer, he unlocked the center drawer on his desk and withdrew a small white envelope. Crossing to her, he opened it and shook out three slips of paper atop her briefcase. Turning them over, Tori scanned each one, shock layering over adrenaline.

      “When did you get these?”

      “They began arriving four weeks ago. They were sent to my home, but I have all my personal mail routed to work. I’m here more, anyway.”

      “The envelopes?”

      “I still have them, but a contact of mine in the postal department assures me they’ll be of little use. They were postmarked in New Orleans, all by different offices.”

      Her gaze dropped to the notes again, her flesh prickling. “Have you thought of going to the police?”

      “Please.” His tone managed to be both derisive and amused. “If someone really means me harm, they aren’t going to waste time warning me first. I’d be easier to take out if I wasn’t on my guard.”

      At the certainty in his words, her eyes met his. “Is that the voice of experience I hear?”

      He slipped his hands into his trousers pockets, rocked back on his heels slightly. The casual pose didn’t fool her. She was beginning to doubt that this man ever truly relaxed.

      “I don’t consider these serious threats.” It didn’t escape her attention that he hadn’t answered her question. “A private lab I occasionally use informed me there were no fingerprints on the notes other than my own. There were several on the envelopes, of course. But it’s doubtful any of them belong to the sender, which means the police will likely come up with nothing. With their involvement, there’s a higher probability of a leak to the press.”

      His tone became clipped, his expression closed. “My family dislikes publicity. With my sister’s recent wedding, and my brothers’ engagement announcements appearing in the papers, there’s been a renewed interest in our history. My firm is on the verge of landing another sensitive contract with the Pentagon, and the last thing I need are new rumors about my family serving as news fodder to ratchet up slow ratings.”

      That was, she supposed, a reasonable enough explanation. Her brief foray into the Corbett family, the Dallas Corbetts—distinguished from the Houston Corbetts primarily by their bank accounts and penchant for social climbing—had taught her that wealthy people had an aversion to publicity. Unless, of course, it involved them handing over a very large check to a suitable charity.

      “Let’s talk about your brothers and sister for a minute. What do they think about this?” If she hadn’t known better, she would have believed her question took him off guard. Which was ridiculous, of course. James Tremaine wouldn’t be a man to entertain self-doubts.

      “I’d rather not have to tell them,” he said finally. “My sister and her new husband are just settling into married life. My brothers are both in the process of planning their weddings. Raking all this up again is bound to be painful, and in the long run will probably be for nothing. I’d like to spare them that if I can.”

      She wondered if they would thank him for that, and thought probably not. But his protectiveness of his family warmed something inside her. She could respect a man who looked out for his loved ones, even if his tactics weren’t appreciated.

      Glancing back down at the notes, she observed, “These could have just been sent by someone looking to hose you, you know.”

      “You’re most likely correct. But if that’s true, the sender will find that I’m not, as you put it so eloquently, easily hosed. I won’t give in to blackmail.”

      She almost grinned. There may be a hint of humor beneath all that tailoring, СКАЧАТЬ