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California,
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loss,
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folder and spilled across the desk. Adam picked them up and studied them one by one. âI got those from the surveillance van. She runs every morning. We clocked her at six milesâshe goes like a bat out of hell and doesnât even sweat.â
âShe sure doesnât look like a bat out of hell.â Adam studied the color photo of the lithe young woman in silky purple shorts and singlet, running along a sidewalk. Some trick of the lens made it look as if she was floating above the ground. She looked both fragile and powerful, a long-limbed, gently curved gazelle with a purple headband holding back a riotous mop of golden curls. He couldnât quite see her face, and he reached for the other photos and flipped through them until he found a close-up.
She seemed to be staring straight into the camera. Adam felt the wide-spaced, sapphire blue eyes were somehow reproaching him, as if their owner was fully aware of being photographed.
âShe looks a little like Goldie Hawn,â Bernie volunteered. âYou see those reruns of Laugh In? Gad, that woman acted like a dipstick on that show, but they say sheâs really one very smart cookie.â
Adam wasnât listening. He was studying the pictures, one after another, concentrating on her hands, her throat, thecurve of her breasts, the long, slender legs, bare beneath the brief running shorts. Always, he returned to her face.
He wanted her. He wanted this woman.
The intensity of his reaction caught him entirely by surprise, and for a moment he forgot Bernie, the office, the very reason for the photos. Excitement and a long-lost sense of exhilaration stirred in his belly.
He wanted her, and so heâd have her. It had always been that way with Adam Hawkins and women. There was no reason to believe Sameh Smith would be any different. âMaybe we ought to work together on this one, Bern. Iâll call Violet and arrange a meeting with our Ms. Smith. We can get to know her a little and maybe find out what her game plan really is.â
Bernie nodded. âSounds okay to me. We can always say weâre promoting the celeb security part of the business, out there doing advertising for good old Blue Knights. She doesnât have to know youâd gut yourself with a dull knife before you ever agreed to do any kind of public relations.â
Adam reached for the phone.
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S HE WAS WEARING a floaty skirt that almost reached her ankles, with a long white thing over the top. She kept shoving the sleeves up. Her narrow feet were nearly bare in sandals that consisted of two straps across her instep and one on her ankle. Her toenails were polished a pale pink, but she didnât appear to be wearing any makeup.
A tiny pulse throbbed in the hollow of her neck, just above the neckline of the sweater. She had huge, remarkable eyes, clear and deep blue and filled with gentle humorâat least until sheâd met Adamâs gaze, when the humor faded into wary alertness. Sheâd led them into a small sitting room located near the front door of Delilahâs mansion when theyâd arrived half an hour before. Sheâd disappeared onlya moment ago, heading for the kitchen to bring them tea. Violet had cleverly chosen a time for them to call when everyone else in the house was out.
âWould you loosen up a little, Hawk?â Bernieâs whisper was exasperated. âYouâve sat there like a stone faced idol without saying a goddamned word since we got here. Iâve had to do all the talking. I thought we were in this together.â
Adam looked over at his partner, inexplicably annoyed and edgy. âYou donât seem to need any help here, Bern. Youâre doing fine on your own.â Adamâs voice was laced with sarcasm. âIâd have a hard time getting a word in, the way you two go on.â Bernie had talked a blue streak, except he hadnât asked one single leading question. He and Sameh Smith had been
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child