Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

His wry smile made my insides twist. God, how I just wished that part of me would get over it. But that, it seemed, was not to be.

“Straight down to business, huh?”

“It’s the only reason I’m here, Jak.”

He snorted softly. “Well, I’m afraid there’s more bad news than good.”

Of course there was. Fate wasn’t likely to give me only good news now, was it? “So hit me with it.”

“As you are aware, John Nadler is an extremely elusive man. He has an office in Collins Street, but is rarely ever there, and while he owns a house in Brighton, none of his neighbors can tell me the last time they saw him.”

“Well, he’s not a ghost, because the heirs of both James Trilby and Gavin Appleby are suing the consortium for a bigger piece of the money pie, and a ghost generally can’t hire lawyers or appear in court.”

“Ah, but he hasn’t yet appeared in court—and won’t, because the case settled out of court yesterday.”

I frowned. “Even if the lawyer handled the settlement, surely Nadler has to appear to sign the papers.”

“He may have to sign the papers, but he didn’t actually have to appear at the meeting to do that. Apparently Frank Logan—the lawyer in question—was meeting Nadler at two today to do all the official stuff, but the meet wasn’t at the office.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And you know this how?”

“Because I talked to the secretary.”

And no doubt raided her mind in the process. It was the only way he’d get that sort of information. I couldn’t imagine someone who had Nadler as a client employing anyone who gave out confidential information, however minor.

“So we have nothing.”

“Not exactly nothing.” A waiter went past and filled up the nearby nut bowl. Jak snagged it and pushed it between us. “We still have the lawyer.”

I scooped up some peanuts. “You’ve made an appointment to talk to him?”

Jak snorted. “The man charges like a wounded bull. On my salary, I can’t even afford his first-appointment rates.”

“So you want me to go talk to him?”

“Well, yes and no—and this is where the good news comes in. He’s apparently going to be at the Financial Markets Foundation for Children gala tomorrow night. I want you to get us tickets.”

Go to a ball with Jak? I wasn’t sure that was a good idea—not when he looked so damn good in black tie. “Mom supported a lot of charities, but I can’t recall the foundation being one of them. And I doubt I could ring up at the last moment and get tickets.”

“You can’t. I’ve already checked, and they’re sold out.”

Which was good for the foundation but not so good for us. “So what do you expect me to do? Beat someone over the head and steal their ticket?”

He grinned, and it lit up his entire face, making that stubbornly stupid bit of me ache. “Well, as a last resort, maybe. But I figure that maybe you should try some of your mom’s contacts first. Surely with all the work she did for charities, someone somewhere would owe her—or her daughter—a favor or two.”

“Nice of you to remember how many charities she supported. Shame it didn’t reach the damn article.”

He patted my hand lightly. “Now, now, you know that’s not true. I did mention it, if only in the introduction.”

“Generous of you,” I muttered, and once again slipped my hand from under his.

Amusement glittered in his dark eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, the bastard. A thought confirmed by his next statement.

“The spark is still there, Ris.”

“That spark is nothing more than werewolf nature,” I said with determination. “And it’s not something I’m about to give in to, so stop playing games.”

“That’s hard when—bruises aside—you look so damn good.”