Kissing Sin (Riley Jenson Guardian 2)

He gave me his vampire face. "Beating him up wouldn't do any good, because it is not the son that runs the company. I merely wish to give him a warning."

The waiter stopped at an empty table near the corner of the room. I glanced at the window, not sure I liked being so close to it. I might be disguised, but Quinn wasn't, and we still hadn't figured out who or what was behind the recent attempts on his life.

"So, what is his name and what are you warning him about?" I took the seat opposite the window. We might be only eight floors up, but if I got too close and saw the drop, my stomach would react. And I doubt that would endear me to my tablemates.

"That's not your concern," Quinn said.

His reply was almost absent, and annoyance rose. Dammit, I was getting more than a little tired of our relationship - whatever the hell that actually was - being a one-way information street. And being old and set in his ways wasn't excuse enough.

I thrust to my feet, needing to get out of there before I said something daft or we got back to the same old argument, but he grabbed me, his fingers like iron around my wrist.

"I'm sorry, Riley."

"No, you're not." I glanced down at his fingers. "Take your hand off my arm."

"Only if you sit down so we can talk."

"Right now, I have work to do. And I'm over talking to you."

"Please."

"No."

"What if I said the man I was looking for was Kellen Sinclair?"

"Telling me his name now means little." And I had to hope his Kellen wasn't my Kellen - though given the curveballs fate was throwing, I wasn't about to bet on it. "I want to be able to ask a question and have it answered civilly."

"I said I'll try, Riley, but you can't expect - "

He stopped abruptly.

"Yeah," I said softly. "But apparently it's okay for you to expect me to change overnight."

I peeled his fingers off my arm and stepped back, out of his reach. "I'm going to scout the room. I'll let you know if I scent or see anyone familiar."

He almost looked relieved at the prospect. "You shouldn't be doing that alone."

"Liander has masked my spoor and my looks. I'm safe enough here tonight."

"Even so, we're here to get a line on General Hunt, nothing more."

"We're here to uncover the trail to whoever is behind the gene manipulation business. I happen to think Hunt is just another rung in the ladder, which is why I want to scout the room first. There may be other players here."

Besides, I needed the time away from him. Needed to regroup my thoughts before I was tempted to tell him where to shove it. Hell, given fate's twisted line of thinking, it'd be my luck that the one man I walked away from would be the man who was my destiny.

"You find Hunt," I continued. "I'll join you once I look around."

I didn't give him the chance to argue, and quickly faded into the crowd milling on the dance floor. I was three-quarters of the way around the room - and feeling more than a little nauseous from the overwhelming wall of scent coming off every woman in the room, all of whom seemed to have bathed in the stuff - when I smelled it. Pine and springtime. Two of the scents I'd smelled in that breeding center.

I stopped abruptly and studied the people standing immediately in front of me. Just a bunch of gray-haired old ladies done up to the nines. No men. I frowned, and carefully sniffed the air, wondering if the press of aromas was confusing my senses.

The scent was there, as strong as before, and it was definitely coming from the group of women just ahead. Maybe there was a man in there somewhere, and I just couldn't see him.

I edged around a woman whose scent was so thick and orangy it made my already troublesome stomach threaten to rise, then moved closer to the group of elderly women. Still no men. Yet the scent was closer than before.

"So where is the delicious Martin?" one woman asked. "He owes me a champagne over that little wager we had."

Martin? Did she mean Martin Hunt? Did that mean his wife was in this group somewhere? I sidestepped around another couple, and finally saw her. In real life, she was just as broad set and nondescript as she'd been in the picture, and looked totally ill at ease in the blood red, calf-length evening gown.