Rachel Caine - Thin Air

I had no idea what span of time that covered, of course, not that I was going to tell him that. “Around,” I said, and smiled back. “I’m parched. Can I get something to drink?”

“Of course. Sarah.” He said it as if she were his servant, and I saw her frown work its way deeper into her forehead. Couldn’t blame her on that one. I wouldn’t have appreciated it, either. Still, she wandered into the kitchen and started rooting through cabinets, assembling me a drink. She didn’t ask what I liked. I guessed either she already knew or didn’t care. “Please, sit down. Tell me what happened to get you into this problem.”

“Mistaken identity,” I said, but I obeyed the graceful wave of his hand toward the couch. Eamon took a chair next to it. “Nothing to tell, really. They think I killed a cop.”

“Ah. Which cop would this be?”

“Detective Quinn.”

“I see. And did you?” he asked, not looking at me. He needed a haircut; his brown, silky shag was starting to take on a retro-seventies look that made him look a little dangerous.

“I can’t believe you asked me that,” I said, which was a nice nonanswer. “What do you think?”

“I think that they’re talking about Orry, aren’t they?”

“Thomas Quinn,” I said. “They didn’t mention anyone named Orry.”

He shot me a quick, unreadable glance. “Oh,” he said. “I see. Not the same person, then.”

I covered with a noncommittal shrug. Eamon smiled slightly, and then moved back in his chair as Sarah came toward us with drinks. Eamon’s was clearly alcohol-something amber, on the rocks-and mine was just as clearly not. It bubbled with carbonation. I sipped carefully, but it was just Coca-Cola. No rum, no whiskey. It was even diet.

And yes, it was delicious. My body went into spasms of ecstasy over the faux-sugar rush, and it was all I could do not to chug the entire thing in one long gulp.

Sarah perched on the arm of Eamon’s chair, her own glass clutched in one long-fingernailed hand. She needed a manicure, and she didn’t need to be drinking whatever was in that glass, which wasn’t likely to be as innocuous as my Diet Coke. “What were you talking about?” she asked. Eamon raised his eyebrows at me.

“Water under the bridge,” he said. “Now. Just so we understand each other, Jo, I did put up your bail money. It wasn’t purely because I like you, although I do…or because I love your sister, although I do love her, obviously. It’s because I have a business proposition for you, and I thought this might be an opportunity to have your full and undivided attention while we discuss the details.”

What kind of business did I have with Sarah’s boyfriend? I felt a growing sense of disquiet, and it wasn’t anything I could put my finger on… Eamon’s body language was kind, gentle, unaggressive. His eyes were bright and his smile a bit too sharp, but that might have been my own paranoia. Yes, the trailer wasn’t a Malibu beach house, but it wasn’t exactly a horrifying dump, either. Sarah was on drugs-I was nearly sure of that-but that didn’t mean danger to me, only to her.

And yet. And yet.

“A business proposition,” I repeated, locking gazes with Eamon. “Go on. I’m all ears. Anybody who puts up bail money gets that much.”

His smile got wider. “You might not recall, but I had a small business venture under way in Florida when you arrived back there and took up residence. I was investing in construction with some silent partners. I was hoping to revive that effort, maybe do something on the West Coast for a change. I’d like to have your commitment to be involved.”

“I’m not really up for investing,” I said. “What with the murder charge, and the fact that I seem to be running a little short of cash. Nothing personal.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and I had no idea why he’d find that funny. “No indeed,” he agreed. “Not personal in the least. Well, to be blunt, you do owe me, Joanne. Not just for the bail, although obviously I have to consider that. No, before you left Florida, you promised to locate something very rare and very special for me-something I needed a great deal. As it turned out, you had a bit of a problem delivering on your promise, which was very disappointing for me, and caused me to lose something that I really wasn’t planning to give up. But as you said, water under the bridge, and that’s certainly far downstream at this point. Both our circumstances have changed-perhaps not, in your case, for the better. So please consider my offer as being a way for you to get back on your feet, in a sense, as well as a way to repay your debts to me.”

“I see.”

“It’s either that or, regretfully, I’ll have to ask you to immediately pay back the money. As you heard, I’m waiting on a funds transfer from Asia, but various political problems in that part of the world are causing delays. And, of course, I had to sink some of my capital into providing for your temporary freedom, pending trial. So perhaps you’d like to contact your bank and have them wire me about five thousand dollars. That should tide us over.”

In a trailer like this, in Ares, Nevada? I imagined that five thousand would probably tide them over for months on end. In style. Even if Sarah’s drug habit was worse than I thought. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I don’t have any cash. No wallet, no credit cards, no checks. Nothing. I can’t even go to a bank and draw out cash with no identification. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just as pissed about that as you are.”

“Ah,” Eamon said, and sat back, eyes going half-lidded and remote. “Well. How ever are you planning to pay me back for your bail money, then, if you’re not interested in the investment and you can’t provide the cash?”

“It’s a temporary situation. It’ll all-”

“Work out?” he supplied dryly. “Yes. I’m sure it will. Things do seem to do that for you. The favored, fortunate child, aren’t you just?” Eamon suddenly came up with a lovely, charming smile, which he turned on my sister like a cannon, with about the same effect. “Sweets, why don’t you give us a moment alone?”

Sarah clouded over, but it was a foregone conclusion that she’d obey. I ignored the intervening whines and concentrated on Eamon and on my environment. What kind of trouble was I in? And what could I do about it?

Sarah finally left the room, went to the bedroom, and slammed the thin, scratched door behind her.

He watched her go, his eyes intent and strangely fond, and without any change in his expression Eamon said, “I don’t want to alarm your sister, but I’ll warn you, if you try to pull any of your magical shit with me, I’ll make both of you pay for it. Are we clear, then?”

It felt like he’d kicked me in the stomach. I opened my mouth but didn’t quite know what to say. What the hell had just happened?

“Right,” he said. “Enough of our little dance, my dear. You’re a puzzle to me at the moment-a not entirely unattractive one, but I have issues of my own to overcome, so I’m not terribly concerned about yours. Although you certainly can’t believe some of the things you’ve been telling me, and I wonder what kind of mad plan you have in mind if you’re lying about so much, and so blatantly. Nothing to my benefit, I’m sure. Well, let’s be blunt, then: I need to get out of this town before I either go mad or do something quite unpleasant to your dear sister. Neither of us wants that, and I’m sure you’d like to help me out in this.”

“Are you threatening Sarah?” I asked. I stood up-not because I meant to, just because my muscles tensed so badly I couldn’t sit still. I stared at him, and he smiled, still entirely at ease.