Taking that as a yes, I felt my shoulders ease. "Thanks," I muttered as the tall man bent to whisper in Trent's ear and Trent's gaze shot to me. I strained to hear, getting nothing.
"Keep him at the gate," Trent said, glancing at Quen. "I don't want him on the grounds."
"Who?" I said, wondering.
Trent stood and tightened the tie on his robe. "I told Mr. Felps I'd arrange for your return, but he seems to think you're in need of rescuing. He's waiting for you at the gatehouse."
"Kisten?" I stifled a jerk. I'd be glad to see him, but I was afraid of the answers he would have for me. I didn't want him to have planted that bomb, but Ivy had said he did. Damn it, why did I always fall for the bad boys?
While the three men waited, I stood and gathered my things, hesitating before I stuck my hand out. "Thank you for your hospitality…Trent," I said, pausing only briefly as I tried to decide what to call him. "And thanks for not letting me freeze to death," I added.
A soft smile quirked the corners of his lips at the hesitation, and he met my firm grip with his own. "It was the least I could do, seeing as you kept me from drowning," he answered. His brow furrowed, clearly wanting to say more. Breath held, he changed his mind and turned away. "Jonathan, will you accompany Ms. Morgan to the gate-house? I want to talk to Quen."
"Of course, Sa'han."
I glanced back at Trent as I followed Jonathan to the stairs, my mind already on what I had to do next. I'd call Edden first, at his home number, soon as I got to my Rolodex. He might still be up. Then my mother. Then Jenks. This was going to work. It had to.
But as I quickened my pace to keep up with Jonathan, a wash of concern went though me. Sure, I was going to get in to see Saladan, but then what?
Twenty-nine
Kisten had the heat on full, and the warm air shifted a strand of my shorter hair to tickle my neck. I reached to turn it down, thinking he was laboring under the false assumption that I was still suffering from hypothermia and warmer was better. It was stifling, the sensation only strengthened by the darkness we drove through. I cracked the window and eased back as the cold night slipped in.
The living vamp snuck a look at me, jerking his gaze back to the headlight-lit road as soon as our eyes met. "Are you okay?" he asked for the third time. "You haven't said a word."
Shaking my open coat to make a draft, I nodded. He had gotten a hug at Trent's gate, but it was obvious he felt the hesitation. "Thanks for picking me up," I said. "I wasn't too keen on Quen taking me home." I ran my hand across the door handle of Kisten's Corvette, comparing it to Trent's limo. I liked Kisten's car better.
Kisten blew out his breath in a long exhalation. "I needed to get out. Ivy was driving me crazy." He glanced away from the dark road. "I'm glad you told her as soon as you did."
"You talked?" I asked, surprised and a little worried. Why couldn't I like nice men?
"Well, she talked." He made an embarrassed noise. "She threatened to cut off both my heads if I jerked your blood out from under her."
"Sorry." I looked out the window, becoming more upset. I didn't want to have to walk away from Kisten because he had meant for those people to die in some stupid power struggle they weren't aware of. He took a breath to say something, and I interrupted with a quick, "Would you mind if I used your phone?"
His expression wary, he pulled his shiny phone from a belt holster and handed it to me. Not particularly happy, I called information and got the number for David's company, and for a few dollars more, they connected me. Why not? It wasn't my phone.
While Kisten silently drove, I worked my way through their automated system. It was almost midnight. He ought to have been in, unless he was on a run or had gone home early. "Hi," I said when I finally got a real person. "I need to talk to David Hue?"
"I'm sorry," an older woman said with an overabundance of professionalism. "Mr. Hue isn't here presently. Can I give you to one of our other agents?"
"No!" I said before she could dump me back into the system. "Is there a number I can reach him at? It's an emergency." Note to self: never, ever throw anyone's card away again.
"If you'd like to leave your name and number—"
What part of "emergency" didn't she understand? "Look," I said with a sigh. "I really need to talk to him. I'm his new partner, and I lost his extension. If you could just—"
"You're his new partner?" the woman interrupted. The shock in her voice gave me pause. Was David that hard to work with?
"Yeah," I said, flicking a glance at Kisten. I was sure he could hear both ends of the conversation with his vamp ears. "I really need to talk to him."
"Ah, can you hold for a moment?"
"You bet."
Kisten's face brightened in the glare of oncoming cars. His jaw was fixed and his eyes were riveted to the road.
There was a crackling of the phone being passed, then a cautious, "This is David Hue."
"David," I said, smiling. "It's Rachel." He didn't say anything, and I rushed to keep him on the line. "Wait! Don't hang up. I've got to talk to you. It's about a claim."
There was the sound of a hand going over the phone. "It's okay," I heard him say. "I'll take this one. Why don't you make an early night of it? I'll close down your computer."
"Thanks, David. I'll see you tomorrow," his secretary said faintly, and after a long moment, his voice came back on the line.
"Rachel," he said warily. "Is this about the fish? I've already filed the claim. If you've perjured me, I'm going to be very upset."
"What is it with you thinking the worst of me?" I questioned, miffed. My eyes slid to Kisten as he gripped the wheel tighter. "I made a mistake with Jenks, okay? I'm trying to fix it. But I've got something you might be interested in."
There was a short silence. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.
My breath puffed out in relief. Fidgeting, I dug for a pen in my shoulder bag. Opening my datebook, I clicked my pen open. "Ah, you work by commission, right?"
"Something like that," David said.
"Well, you know that boat that exploded?" I snuck a glance at Kisten. The light from the oncoming traffic made little glints in his stubble as he clenched his jaw.
There was a rattling of computer keys in the background. "Still listening…"
My pulse quickened. "Does your company own the policy on it?"
The sound of keys quickened and vanished. "Seeing as we insure everything Piscary isn't interested in, probably." There was another spurt of tapping keys. "Yes. We have it."
"Great," I sighed. This was going to work. "I was on it when it exploded."
I heard the squeak of a chair through the line. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. You saying it wasn't an accident?"
"Ah, no." I flicked a glance at Kisten. His knuckles gripping the wheel were white.
"Really." It wasn't a question, and the sound of tapping keys started up again, shortly followed by the hum of a printer.
I shifted in Kisten's heated leather seats and stuck the end of the pen in my mouth. "Would I be correct that your company doesn't pay out when property is destroyed—"
"Because of acts of war or gang-related activity?" David interrupted. "No. We don't."
"Fantastic," I said, not thinking it necessary to tell him I was sitting next to the guy who had arranged the whole thing. God, please let Kisten have an answer for me. "How would you like me to come down there and sign a paper for you?"