The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

He’d come prepared. He didn’t want to seem too obvious, so he had something in his Italian leather briefcase, a set of documents, a letter …

A job, one that was different from Caleb’s usual forays into corporate warfare. Luck had dropped it into his lap yesterday—and, dammit, the longer he stood out here thinking, the tougher this was starting to seem.

Travis straightened his tie. Cleared his throat. He was nervous, and he was a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Hell. Miss Edna was staring at him through the glass doors.

Okay. One last deep breath. One long exhalation. Here we go, he thought, and he pulled the doors open and marched across the sea of polished oak, took the million-mile walk to the reception desk.

“Good morning,” he said briskly.

Miss Edna glanced to one side, then to the other. She halfrose from her chair and leaned forward until her face was inches from his.

“Oh, Mr. Travis,” she whispered, “I am very glad to see you!”

“It’s Travis. Just Travis,” he said automatically. He’d been telling her that for years, to no avail. “You are?”

She nodded. “It’s Mr. Caleb.”

Travis’s heart rate soared. “What happened?”

“Well, that is the problem, Mr. Travis. I don’t know. I only know that he is not himself. It’s got worse and worse and today—”

“Today?”

“Mr. Caleb had an appointment with Judge Henry. He spent weeks trying to get that appointment. And when I reminded him of it, he told me to phone the judge’s clerk and cancel. Cancel, can you imagine?”

Travis could not. Caleb might goof around outside work but never, ever when it came to his practice.

“Okay,” he said, even more briskly. “Please tell him I’m here.”

Miss Edna blushed. A definite first.

“Perhaps it’s better if you just walk in, unannounced.”

“You mean, if you tell him, he’s liable to say—”

“He’ll say he’s busy.”

“Or he doesn’t have the time.” Travis nodded. “You’re right. Okay. I’m just going to walk in on him. I’ll tell him you were away from your desk.”

“Tell him what you like, Mr. Travis. Do whatever it takes, but do it.”

Travis nodded again. “Worry not,” he said, trying for a light touch, but it didn’t work. That Miss Edna was worried enough to confide in him was the clincher.

Something bad was going down.

Caleb’s office was at the end of a long hall.

Travis hurried past a big conference room, a small conference room, a library, clerks’ offices, a fax and printing room and an office Travis knew belonged to his sister-in-law, who wasn’t in today.

He was glad she wasn’t.

If things got loud, if Caleb and he reached the shouting stage, better for her not to witness it.

Caleb’s door was shut. Travis counted to five, then knocked and turned the knob without waiting for a reply.

The door opened onto a room that was pure Caleb. Contemporary glass walls. Traditional Oriental carpet. Contemporary leather sofa, chairs and coffee table. Traditional—and enormous—antique wood desk.