Betrayals (Cainsville 4)

"Are you actually admitting--?"

"You will wonder why I'm offering to represent you, and that is the answer. The last time I saw you, you said that if I took your case again, you might be able to recall more useful answers to our questions. I presume that still holds true?"

"It does."

"Then it seems..." He met her gaze. "That you win this round."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ioan had asked us to meet him at an address in the Loop. I figured it was a high-rent residence there--Gabriel's own condo was nearby. But when I told Ricky the address, he said, "That's office space." He was right--it led to a skyscraper a few blocks from James's corporate offices. The route would have taken us right past, but Ricky detoured, saving me from those memories.

"I'm sure I wrote the address down right," I said as we looked up at the building.

"I'm sure you did, too. I'm wondering if we're being sent on a wild goose chase."

The building was dead quiet on a Saturday afternoon. Inside, we told the guard who we were there to see, and he sent us up to the twenty-third floor.

As we stepped from the elevator, we saw a corporate sign.

"Gwylio Consulting," Ricky read. "Welsh, I take it?"

"It means 'to watch, to look out for.' And the correct pronunciation is guh-wi-luh-ee-oh."

"Easy for you to say."

"Actually, it is. Once you know the pronunciation of the letters and the diphthongs, you can say any word, because--unlike English--there's only one way of pronouncing them."

"I'll take your word for it. The question is what Gwylio Consulting actually does. That sign's not giving me any clues. Nor is this." He waved at the reception area beyond the glass doors, which looked like any upscale corporate office.

"Security," said a voice.

We turned to see a man approaching. Early sixties. Physically fit and handsome enough that he still turned heads. Ioan emanated money and charm and good breeding, from his stance to his smile to his suit. Not exactly the kind of guy you'd picture riding a flaming black steed and dragging souls to the afterlife.

"What kind of security?" I asked.

Ioan's smile grew. "Whatever you need."

"Right now, I need answers."

"Then you've come to the right place, as I've been telling you for a while, Olivia." He led us to the door he'd come through. "It's good to see you, Ricky," Ioan said as he ushered us through.

Ricky nodded, and I could see Ioan's gaze following him, disappointed by his apparent lack of interest. Ricky was interested in his Cwn Annwn heritage, but to betray that would give them the advantage.

As we walked down a row of offices, I looked through the glass walls. Nice offices, all of them. Executive sized, executive furnished. Tidy, but not unduly so.

"It looks real," I said.

"Hmm?" Ioan glanced over his shoulder at me.

"The offices. You've done a good job of making them look like they're actually being used."

"Probably because they are. It's a legitimate business. How else do we afford to live, if we do not work?"

With the exception of Patrick, the Tylwyth Teg didn't work. When I'd thought they were human, I'd presumed they lived off retirement savings and social security.

"They have nest eggs of a sort," Ioan said.

I shot him a glare. "You aren't supposed to do that."