Read Online Standing in the Shadows by Shannon McKenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Shannon McKenna
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invite you to look at them."
He ignored her, his gaze fixed on the page. "So Claude is delighted to meet with you at last, huh?" he said softly. "Who is this Claude?"
"None of your business. Put those down.
Now
."
He glanced up, and took in the steaming mug in her hand. His eyes went right back to the e-mail. "I take it black," he said absently.
"Put those papers down, Connor." She tried to make her voice steely and commanding. It just sounded scared.
"So old Claude feels like he knows you already. Isn't that sweet." He laid the papers on her desk, and walked to the table, staring at her with narrowed eyes. "So, this Claude. You've never met him?"
She set his coffee down in front of him. "He's a client of mine. Not that it's any of your business."
"Art appraisal?"
"Authentication," she corrected. "Mr. Mueller recently developed an interest in Iron Age Celtic artifacts, which are my specialty."
He sipped his coffee, frowning. "How recently?"
"I've never discussed that with him," she said. "It's not—"
"What do you know about this guy, Erin?"
She bristled at the challenge in his voice. "Everything I need to know. He treats me like a professional. He pays well, and on time."
"But you've never met him?" His eyes probed her, merciless.
"I've met members of his administrative staff," she said. "He runs a charitable foundation called the Quicksilver Fund."
"So why haven't you met him yet?" he persisted. "Because he's always had other pressing engagements," she retorted. "He's a busy man."
"Is he now," Connor said. "Isn't that interesting." Coffee sloshed over the table as she slammed down her mug. "What the hell are you insinuating, Connor?"
"Do you know anyone personally who has met this guy?" She pressed her lips together. "I know people whose arts organizations have received grants from him. That's enough for me."
"No, it's not enough. You can't go on this trip, Erin." She jerked onto her feet, jarring the table painfully with her thigh. "The hell I can't! I am hanging on by my fingernails, Connor. That client is the best thing that's happened to me in the last six months! I will not jeopardize my business just because you are paranoid!"
"Erin, Novak is out there somewhere," Connor said. "I've been hunting him for years. I know his smell, and I'm smelling it now. He lives to fuck people up. You're Ed Riggs's daughter. You were in his sights. He won't forget you. Count on it." Erin sank down into her chair. "Mueller can't possibly have anything to do with Novak," she said coldly. "Novak has been in a high-security prison ever since he was released from the hospital. Mueller started hiring me four months ago. We made plans to meet on two other occasions. Once in San Diego and once in Santa Fe."
"But he never showed up?"
She lifted her chin. "He had unexpected business."
"I just bet he did," Connor said. "I need to check this guy out."
"Don't you dare!" she flared. "Don't even think about messing with the last good thing I've got going. Everything else in my life has gone straight to hell. Don't you think you've done enough?"
Connor's mouth tightened to a grim line. He put down his cup, stood up, and headed for the door. His limp was just a barely perceptible, hitching stiffness in his leg. And it still broke her heart.
"Connor," she said. "Wait."
He pushed the door open, and waited, motionless.
"I'm sorry I said that." She got up and took a step toward him. "I know it's not your fault. It's been… a really awful time."
"Yeah." He turned and looked at her. "I know what you mean."
It was true. He did know how bad it was. She saw it in his eyes. He'd been betrayed and set up to die. He'd lost his partner, Jesse. He'd lost months of his life in a coma, suffered the shattered leg, the burns.
Connor had lost far more than she in this awful business.
An impulse from deep inside kept her feet moving until she stood right in front of him. His scent was a mix of soap and tobacco, resiny and sweet. Pine, wood
He ignored her, his gaze fixed on the page. "So Claude is delighted to meet with you at last, huh?" he said softly. "Who is this Claude?"
"None of your business. Put those down.
Now
."
He glanced up, and took in the steaming mug in her hand. His eyes went right back to the e-mail. "I take it black," he said absently.
"Put those papers down, Connor." She tried to make her voice steely and commanding. It just sounded scared.
"So old Claude feels like he knows you already. Isn't that sweet." He laid the papers on her desk, and walked to the table, staring at her with narrowed eyes. "So, this Claude. You've never met him?"
She set his coffee down in front of him. "He's a client of mine. Not that it's any of your business."
"Art appraisal?"
"Authentication," she corrected. "Mr. Mueller recently developed an interest in Iron Age Celtic artifacts, which are my specialty."
He sipped his coffee, frowning. "How recently?"
"I've never discussed that with him," she said. "It's not—"
"What do you know about this guy, Erin?"
She bristled at the challenge in his voice. "Everything I need to know. He treats me like a professional. He pays well, and on time."
"But you've never met him?" His eyes probed her, merciless.
"I've met members of his administrative staff," she said. "He runs a charitable foundation called the Quicksilver Fund."
"So why haven't you met him yet?" he persisted. "Because he's always had other pressing engagements," she retorted. "He's a busy man."
"Is he now," Connor said. "Isn't that interesting." Coffee sloshed over the table as she slammed down her mug. "What the hell are you insinuating, Connor?"
"Do you know anyone personally who has met this guy?" She pressed her lips together. "I know people whose arts organizations have received grants from him. That's enough for me."
"No, it's not enough. You can't go on this trip, Erin." She jerked onto her feet, jarring the table painfully with her thigh. "The hell I can't! I am hanging on by my fingernails, Connor. That client is the best thing that's happened to me in the last six months! I will not jeopardize my business just because you are paranoid!"
"Erin, Novak is out there somewhere," Connor said. "I've been hunting him for years. I know his smell, and I'm smelling it now. He lives to fuck people up. You're Ed Riggs's daughter. You were in his sights. He won't forget you. Count on it." Erin sank down into her chair. "Mueller can't possibly have anything to do with Novak," she said coldly. "Novak has been in a high-security prison ever since he was released from the hospital. Mueller started hiring me four months ago. We made plans to meet on two other occasions. Once in San Diego and once in Santa Fe."
"But he never showed up?"
She lifted her chin. "He had unexpected business."
"I just bet he did," Connor said. "I need to check this guy out."
"Don't you dare!" she flared. "Don't even think about messing with the last good thing I've got going. Everything else in my life has gone straight to hell. Don't you think you've done enough?"
Connor's mouth tightened to a grim line. He put down his cup, stood up, and headed for the door. His limp was just a barely perceptible, hitching stiffness in his leg. And it still broke her heart.
"Connor," she said. "Wait."
He pushed the door open, and waited, motionless.
"I'm sorry I said that." She got up and took a step toward him. "I know it's not your fault. It's been… a really awful time."
"Yeah." He turned and looked at her. "I know what you mean."
It was true. He did know how bad it was. She saw it in his eyes. He'd been betrayed and set up to die. He'd lost his partner, Jesse. He'd lost months of his life in a coma, suffered the shattered leg, the burns.
Connor had lost far more than she in this awful business.
An impulse from deep inside kept her feet moving until she stood right in front of him. His scent was a mix of soap and tobacco, resiny and sweet. Pine, wood
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