Shock Value grinned, looking enormously relieved. “I'm calling it On the Brink. You really like it?”
“I love it. I always knew you had talent, Shock, but this is unbelievable. Take a look at this, Ariel.” Mattie took the soaring, powerfully worked metal from the artist's hands and placed it on the floor in front of her desk.
Ariel studied the piece thoughtfully. “You're right, Mattie. It's really something. Very strong stuff. You're going to display it here in Sharpe Reaction?”
“You bet I am, so that Shock gets the public exposure. But it's not for sale. As of this moment this piece is mine, all mine. Let's make a deal, Shock.”
Shock Value smiled. “Mattie, you can have it for free. I owe you. A lot, I think. I don't even remember how much.”
“You don't owe me this much,” Mattie assured her. “If you won't put a price tag on it, I will. Sit down while I write up a bill of sale.”
Shock Value took a seat. “I'm really sort of relieved that it's okay. I wasn't sure what I was doing. You know, I think it would be a good idea for me to get away from the city for a while. Too many distractions, you know? I think I need a change of environment. I need to go somewhere and refresh myself while I work out this new direction in my style.”
Mattie glanced up from the paperwork. “You really think so?”
Shock Value nodded quickly. “I turned a corner when I started working on Brink. I could feel it. I need to focus this new energy. I don't want to work in isolation, but I really think I have to get away from the city. Someplace quiet and sort of inspirational, if you know what I mean.”
“Someplace where they don't sell colored hair gel and metal-studded leather pants?” Ariel asked with a little smile.
“I guess,” Shock Value admitted. “But a nice place.”
“Some place like a tropical island, perhaps?” Mattie said slowly.
“Man, that'd be perfect,” Shock Value said with a grin.
“You've got to come with me, Mattie. I simply don't have the guts to do this alone. Lord knows, I'm no Hemingway.” Emery Blackwell slumped dejectedly in the chair in Mattie's office. “You got me into this, and you simply cannot abandon me now in my hour of need.”
“Of course I'll come with you,” Mattie assured him. “I can't wait to see it. Just give me a minute to finish off this paperwork. I'm right in the middle of something. Would you like a cup of herbal tea or something to calm your nerves?”
“A shot of whiskey, maybe, not tea.”
The door of Mattie's office opened, and Hugh took one step into the room before he spotted Emery. He scowled. “Why is it I can't go anywhere these days without tripping over you or Grafton, Blackwell? The two of you are getting to be damned nuisances.”
Emery looked up with lofty disdain. “If my presence offends you, Abbott, feel free to take yourself off elsewhere. You're not needed around here at the moment, as it happens. Mattie and I have an appointment in a few minutes.”
“The hell you do.” But Hugh's voice contained more resignation than heat.
He sauntered over to the desk, tipped Mattie's face up, and kissed her ruthlessly. It was a kiss of possession, rather than passion. The kind of kiss a man uses when he's drawing lines and issuing challenges in front of another man. The woman's response was not particularly important. It was the impact on the other male that counted.
Mattie smiled frostily. “You've made your point.”
“Dear me,” Emery murmured. “However do you tolerate all that dreadful machismo, Mattie? Ariel could only put up with it for a few weeks.”
“Most of the time it can be ignored,” Mattie explained cheerfully.
Hugh growled with mock menace. He lounged against Mattie's desk and folded his arms across his chest. “All right, let's have it. What are you two up to this afternoon?”
“We are proposing to walk all of two blocks down the street to the bookstore,” Emery informed him. “I do hope that doesn't offend your hopelessly antiquated sense of male territoriality.”
“Heck, no,” Hugh said. “I'll go with you, sport that I am.”
“Shouldn't you be working?” Emery suggested pointedly.
“Took the afternoon off. I get to do that, you know. I have this really important, fancy, executive-level job that lets me do that.”
“How odd,” Emery murmured.
Mattie leaned back in her chair. “There's no need to go with us, Hugh. Emery and I will only be gone a few minutes.”
“No sweat, babe. I've got nothing better planned. And I wouldn't mind hitting a good bookstore.”
“Oh, do you read?” Emery asked.
“Without even moving my lips on my good days,” Hugh assured him.
“Congratulations. Quite an accomplishment for a man of your rather peculiar abilities.”
“Gentlemen,” Mattie interrupted forcefully, “I would appreciate it if you would do your sniping outside of this office and away from me. If you cannot be civil to each other, please leave. Otherwise, you will both shut up while I finish this paperwork and then we will all go together to the bookstore.”
“Sure,” said Hugh. “By the way, just why are we making this trek as one big, happy family, anyway?”
“We are going to look at the first book in Emery's new mystery series. It arrived in the shop yesterday, and they got it out on the shelves this morning.”
“How do you know?”
“I called,” Emery said coldly. “Anonymously, of course.”
Hugh grinned. “Of course. I'll bet you've been calling anonymously for the past couple of weeks, right?”
Emery sighed. “Really, Mattie. What do you see in him?”
“It's kind of hard to explain sometimes,” Mattie admitted.
“Don't start,” Hugh warned.
“She tells me you're claiming this is a more or less permanent move to Seattle,” Emery murmured, crossing his legs and adjusting the crease in his trousers. “Personally, I think you're lying through your teeth.”
“Is that right?”
Mattie looked up uneasily as she heard Hugh's voice go cold.
“Yes,” Emery said, “that's right. You're just playing games, aren't you, Abbott? I'll wager you're just biding your time, secretly planning to sweep Mattie off to that godforsaken little hellhole of an island you call home.”
“What if I am?” Hugh drawled. “Would you have any objections?”
“As a matter of fact, I would. Mattie's a civilized woman and deserves civilized surroundings. She will make her own decisions, naturally, but let me make something perfectly clear, Abbott.”
“And what would that be?” Hugh asked, voice dropping another ten degrees below zero.
“Mattie is a friend of mine. If it should come to my attention that you are not treating her well or if you fail to make her happy, you will hear from me. Is that understood?”
“What'll it be, Blackwell? Pistols at dawn?”
Mattie got to her feet, outraged. “Stop it, both of you. Stop it at once, do you hear me?”
Emery rose majestically. “Just watch your step, Abbott. You may be a few years younger than I, but that only means I've had that much longer to get meaner and craftier.” He turned to Mattie. “Are you ready to go, my dear?”
“Well, I'm not sure.” Mattie eyed both men consideringly. “This is a totally new experience for me, you realize. I've never had two men fighting over me. I'm having so much fun listening to the two of you snarl and growl and snap that I hate to see the entertainment end.”
“Don't worry,” Hugh said as he took her arm and started toward the door. “It's not likely to stop just because we're out in public.”
“Actually,” Mattie said, “that's what I'm afraid of. I do have a reputation in this neighborhood, you know. I'm the quiet Sharpe. I don't take part in public scenes.”
Emery smiled grandly. “I assure you, Mattie, I, for one, will not embarrass you. I cannot speak for your hellhound here, however. I leave it to you to control him.�
��
“Relax, babe,” Hugh said. “I promise not to rip Emery's head off his shoulders while we're inside the bookstore.”
“I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with that much. Let's go.” Mattie led the way out the door and through the gallery. She waved casually to her assistant as the trio went past the front desk. “We'll be back in a few minutes, Suzanne.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Suzanne answered with a wave.
St. Cyr's Axiom was sitting face out on the new-books shelf in the mystery section of the large bookstore. Right where it was supposed to be. It even had a neatly lettered sign under it advising browsers that this was a work by a local author.
Mattie took one look at the evocative cover with its subtle, sexy, menacing appeal and hugged Emery.
“It's gorgeous!” she exclaimed. She released Emery and stood back to admire the book from all angles. “Absolutely beautiful. It's going to sell like crazy.”
“Why should it? Nobody's ever heard of the author.” Emery examined his pseudonym on the book and shook his head. “Just one more new mystery in an already overcrowded genre.”
“The cover will sell it,” Mattie assured him. “And once the average browser reads the first page, he'll be hooked. Here, I'll show you. We'll run a little experiment.” She plucked a copy of St. Cyr's Axiom from the stack and handed it to Hugh.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Hugh demanded, examining the cover.
“You get to volunteer as our average bookstore browser for this on-the-spot consumer test. Read the first page.”
“Without moving your lips,” Emery added.
Hugh looked at Mattie. “Do I have to do this?”
“Yes, you do. Get busy.”
With a great show of reluctance, Hugh opened the book and scanned the first paragraph of St. Cyr's Axiom. Then he went on to the second and third paragraphs.
Mattie grinned as he started to turn the page. “That's far enough. It proves my point.” She snatched the book out of Hugh's hand. “See what I mean, Emery? If even Hugh couldn't resist turning the page, nobody will be able to resist.”
Emery turned a most unusual shade of red. “I am deeply flattered, Abbott.”
“No big deal,” Hugh muttered. “I was just going to finish the sentence, that's all.”
“Buy a copy of your own if you want to finish it.” Mattie put the book back on the stack. “Well, I've got to get back to work. Emery, your new career is launched. Congratulations.”
“St. Cyr is never going to win any Pulitzers,” Emery said.
“Who cares? It's going to sell, and that's even better than winning prizes.”
Emery finally permitted himself a small, rueful smile. “How can you be so damn sure of yourself when it comes to second-guessing the market place, Mattie, my love?”
“It's a knack,” Mattie told him. “Hugh, stop trying to sneak a peek at the second page of Emery's book. Buy it and be done with it. I'll bet Emery will autograph it for you if you ask him nicely, won't you, Emery?”
“Certainly,” Emery said.
Hugh took the copy of St. Cyr's Axiom over to the counter. “Forget the autograph.”
Emery sighed. “Mattie, love, it does worry me so to see you engaged to a man of such astonishingly limited social polish. You really do deserve better, my dear.”
“I know, but at my age a woman can't afford to be too picky,” Mattie said with a daring grin. It occurred to her that teasing Hugh could be rather amusing at times.
Hugh ignored them both as he paid for the book.
The trio returned to Sharpe Reaction in thoughtful silence. At the door of the gallery Emery came to a halt and looked down at Mattie with deep affection.
“Mattie, my love, I owe you more than I can say, and I am only just beginning to realize it. Do you know, I must confess it really was something of a thrill to see all those copies of St. Cyr's Axiom stacked up in that bookstore. Much better distribution than I ever got with any of my important literary stuff.”
“Just wait until the paperback edition comes out and you see it sitting on a rack at a supermarket checkout stand right next to the tabloids and flashlight batteries,” she advised with a chuckle. “Then you'll know you've really arrived.”
Emery laughed and kissed her forehead. “Who would have guessed? Life takes odd turns now and again, doesn't it?”
“It certainly does.”
“Well, I suppose that's what keeps it interesting.” He arched a laconic brow at Hugh, who was watching the little scene with an irritated expression. “I wish you the best of luck with your odd turn, Mattie. But watch him closely. I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him, if I were you. He has plans to carry you off, my dear. Mark my words.”
There was a short, charged silence between Mattie and Hugh as they watched Emery walk away down the sidewalk.
“Do you?” Mattie finally asked quietly.
“Do I what?” Hugh's narrowed gaze was still on Emery's back.
“Have plans to carry me off, or are you really going to settle down here permanently in Seattle?”
“You still don't trust me, do you, babe?”
“Hugh, I'd trust you with my life. In fact, I have on a couple of recent occasions.”
“But not with your heart?”
“I'm thinking about it.”
“You do that, babe,” he said as he pulled her close and kissed her full on the mouth. “You think about it real hard. Because one way or another this is going to work.”
Hugh removed a massive pile of computer printouts from the one visitor's chair in Johnson's office and sat down. The intense young man in horn-rimmed glasses, running shoes, polyester slacks, and an unpressed white shirt looked up warily.
“I told you I'd call if I got anything, Mr. Abbott.”
“I happened to be going by your office, so I thought I'd just drop in and check on the progress,” Hugh lied. The Vailcourt computer facilities were located several floors below management and were definitely not on his way to anywhere. “You told me yesterday you'd verified that there's a new presence on the political scene on Purgatory. I wanted to see if you'd come up with a name or some background yet.”
Johnson sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Nothing yet. I told you I'd call. Scout's honor, Mr. Abbott. I know this is important to you.”
“Real important.”
“I get the picture. Look, all I can tell you at this time is that the situation has changed slightly on Purgatory, but no one really knows how yet. Nor does anyone seem to care. I've given you everything I've been able to dig out of two or three fairly good intelligence data bases. There just isn't much available. Mostly because the situation on that dipshit little island is not of great interest to anyone.”
“Except me.”
“Yes. You.” Johnson picked up a pen and tapped it impatiently on the desk. “I'll call when I get something.”
“Any time. Night or day.” Hugh got to his feet.
“Right. Night or day,” Johnson agreed wearily.
Hugh paused at the door. “You actually went into two or three government data bases? Intelligence data bases? Just like that?”
“Just like that. It's my job, Mr. Abbott.”
Hugh nodded, impressed. “You know, I could have used you in the old days. You and that computer of yours would have been worth your weight in gold.”
“Really? What sort of work did you do in the old days?”
“Nothing very important. Call me. Soon.”
Johnson called at five-thirty that afternoon, just as Hugh was getting ready to walk out the door of his office. The two secretaries had already left, so Hugh reached for the phone himself when it rang.
“Mr. Abbott? This is Johnson down in Systems. I think I may have a little more information for you. Some of it's just coming in now, and there may be more later. It's not much, but it could be something.”
“I'll be right down.” Hugh hung up and diale
d Mattie's gallery. She answered on the third ring. “It's me, babe. Listen, I'm going to be a little late getting home. There's some info on Purgatory coming in on one of the computers downstairs.”
“All right. How late will you be?” she asked, sounding distracted. He heard voices in the background and realized she was probably with clients.
“Don't know. Be there when I get there.”
“Be careful on the way home,” she said automatically. “It'll be dark. First Avenue can be rough in the evenings.”
Hugh allowed himself to wallow briefly in the luxury of having someone worry about him. “Sure, babe. I'll be careful. See you later.” He tossed the phone back into its cradle and headed for the elevators.
Mattie could feel the walls closing in.
“Knees up high and kick. And kick. And kick.”
The heavy throb of rock music combined with the thundering herd of aerobic dancers to make the wooden gym floor shudder. Mattie kicked out as hard as she could, skipped, turned, and joined the herd as it pounded to the far end of the room.
Her grandmother the ballerina would be turning over in her grave. Mattie sent up a silent apology as she always did during aerobics class and then kicked out even more wildly, skipped, turned, and thundered back down to the other end of the room. Technique and grace were not big factors in this kind of thing. Grandmother had always been a fanatic about technique and grace. Mattie could still hear her lecturing the little girl at the barre during that period when Mattie had determined to follow in grandmother's footsteps.
What a mistake that had been. Another wrong direction.
Electric guitars screaming in her ears, Mattie whipped around in a frenzied movement. She had her heart rate up good and high now. The sweat was dampening the thin, supple fabric of her leotard.
The decision to go to the after-work aerobics class at her health club had been an impulse that had struck right after Hugh had announced he would be late getting back to the apartment. Mattie had missed her regular noon-hour class, and she always did some form of aerobics three or four days a week. She could practically feel the stress levels sink after thirty or forty minutes of strenuous dancing.
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