At the Edge of the Sun (Maggie Bennett 3)

Holly felt her face flush. “Not precisely.”

Maggie sat bolt upright on the wide bed. “He didn’t get away?”

Randall pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes alert. “I think what she means is that she and Ian didn’t go after him. She went alone.”

Maggie stared at her in disbelief. “God, Holly, you didn’t! You could have been killed!”

Holly’s flush deepened. “Well, I wasn’t. Ian found me in time, Flynn dived out a window and got away, and we …” Her voice trailed away.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened next,” Maggie said wearily. “I can guess.”

“Not that I’m not fascinated by your love life,” Randall drawled, sitting down on one of the armchairs better suited to shorter, Italian bodies and hitching up his khaki pants with a sartorial attention they didn’t deserve. “But I’d like to know where and when Ian disappeared.”

“He was gone when I woke up this morning. And I have absolutely no idea where he went. The British Embassy couldn’t find any sign that he left the country, or at least he didn’t use his real name if he did. But that’s all we could find out.”

Randall nodded. “I’ll find out where he’s gone.”

Maggie stared at him. “How?”

A small, secret smile curved the corners of Randall’s usually grim mouth. “I have my sources, Maggie. Patricia Werner is working at the embassy right now. You remember her from your CIA days, don’t you. I believe she’s working as a senior clerk-typist.”

“If Pattie’s a clerk-typist then I’m a housewife,” Maggie snapped. “I would have thought she’d have gotten out of the business by now.”

“Some people are addicted, Maggie. They like the excitement.”

“Do you?”

A momentary silence filled the hotel room. Holly watched with unwilling fascination, the dark, almost dangerous expression on her sister’s face, Randall’s alternating warmth and distance.

“I haven’t had an alternative yet,” he said finally. “I’ll give Pattie your love.”

“Do that,” Maggie said in a particularly sour tone of voice. “Do you want me to get rooms for us?”

Only the slight raise of his eyebrow signaled his reaction to the plural “rooms.” He shook his head. “Wait till I see what Pattie has to tell me.”

“You could always stay with her,” Maggie added sweetly.

Randall crossed to the bed, ignoring Holly’s watching eyes. He caught Maggie’s willful chin in one strong, tanned hand and forced her eyes to meet his. “If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were jealous, Maggie.”

“But you know me too well to have any such delusions.”

He bent down, brushing his mouth against hers for a lingering moment, and then pulled away. “Of course,” he murmured. “Don’t wait up for me.”

The door closed silently behind him. Holly’s eyes met Maggie’s for a long, meaningful moment. “So what do we do now?” she asked. “Wait here for our menfolk to return?”

Maggie brushed a hand against her mouth. “Hell, no. Though I have to admit Pattie’s our best source, and Randall will find out a lot more if he works on her alone,” Her lips curved in a cynical smile. “Even a pro like Pattie can’t hold out against Randall when he’s on the prowl.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Hold out against Randall when he was on the prowl?” Holly pushed it.

“I slept alone last night.”

“What about the night before?”

“None of your damned business. What have you been doing with Ian?” she countered.