Amaryllis (10 page)

“Yeah.” He watched her face in the moonlight. “Personal.”

“The case was unpleasant for all concerned, but at least it was relatively straightforward.” Amaryllis summoned up what she hoped was a breezy smile. “No psychic vampire hypno-talents involved.”

“No psychic vampires.”

Amaryllis scrambled out of the Icer and bent down to look at him. “Good night, Mr. Trent.”

“I'll come in for coff-tea.”

“Uh, well—”

He opened the door on the driver's side and climbed out of the car. Amaryllis watched him walk around the front of the sleek vehicle. She realized her mouth was still open.

Lucas went past her up the path to the front door.

“Wait a second.” Amaryllis hurried after him.

He came to a halt on the top step and waited patiently for her to unlock the door.

Unable to think of anything more clever to do, Amaryllis deactivated the jelly-ice lock. The door opened.

With the air of a man walking in his sleep, Lucas moved into the darkened hall.

“This way,” Amaryllis said very brightly. What was she doing, she berated herself. This was not a good idea. Definitely bad synergy, as Byron would say.

She dropped her purse on a small table and led the way into the kitchen. The Iceman was here in her house. Again. For the second time. Amaryllis felt an oppressive sense of impending danger mingled with great excitement. Her breathing quickened.

She must stay calm and in control. She was a professional.

She walked into the kitchen, aware of Lucas following close behind her. The orderly pattern of the pristine black-and-white tiles that marched across the floor and up the walls calmed her immediately.

She took a deep breath. Here, amid the neat, the functional, and the familiar, she regained her sense of self-possession.

Lucas glanced curiously around the black-and-white kitchen as he shrugged out of his jacket. “This house fits you, doesn't it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Very neat. Very clean. A certain air of the fastidious, which I suppose suits a full-spectrum prism. A place for everything and everything in its place.”

She was too neat for him. That was a first. “A little bit of clutter goes a long way in a small house like this.”

“Personally, I don't worry a whole lot about clutter.” Lucas tossed the jacket carelessly across a nearby stool. He
sat down at the white tiled counter. “Growing up on the edge of a jungle teaches you to tolerate a low standard of housekeeping. You can never get rid of all the bugs, and there's always something green growing on the shower wall.”

“I see.” They really were complete opposites, Amaryllis thought. Amazing. Just as all the syn-psychs who studied powerful prisms and talents claimed.

“Does this happen a lot?” Lucas watched her with faintly narrowed eyes.

“What do you mean?” Amaryllis busied herself with her new coff-tea machine. She was very proud of the gleaming black appliance, which was trimmed with a great many impressive red buttons. It had been one of the first purchases she had made after taking the high-paying job at Psynergy, Inc.

“Do you invite all the losers in for coff-tea and pity?”

She looked up from the act of spooning the fragrant ground coff-tea into the machine. “I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Trent.”

His expression darkened. “I don't need your damned sympathy, you know.”

“Okay. Right. No problem. You won't get any sympathy out of me. Still want the coff-tea?”

He scowled. “Yeah.”

“How do you want it?”

“Make it a triple. Straight up. No cream, no sugar, no spice.”

“Triple strength?” Amaryllis raised her brows. “You don't have to prove anything to me. I know you're the big, tough Iceman.”

He had the grace to flush. “I learned to drink my coff-tea in the Western Islands. We like it on the strong side.”

“You got it. Strong it shall be.” Amaryllis adjusted the buttons on the machine. The comforting aroma of the brewing coff-tea filled the cozy room.

“I don't have this kind of problem a lot, you know,” Lucas said. “I'm usually careful. But when I screw up, I generally do a hell of a job of it.”

“Are we talking about coff-tea or personal relationships?”

“I'm careful who I trust.”

Amaryllis nodded. “Personal relationships. Got it. Who says a full-spectrum prism can't carry on a meaningful conversation with a high-class talent? You mustn't blame yourself, Lucas. We all make occasional mistakes when it comes to trusting the right people.”

“All these years Miranda has believed that I deliberately set Jackson up to be killed because I wanted to get rid of him.” Lucas shook his head. “I knew the Ryes held me responsible in a way for Jackson's death, but even they never accused me of arranging for him to be murdered.”

Amaryllis removed the pot of freshly made coff-tea and poured the golden brown brew into two mugs. “The news accounts called Jackson Rye a hero. They said he was killed at the beginning of the invasion.”

“I was away on one of the neighboring islands when it happened. Jackson told people at company headquarters in Port LeConner that he wanted to take a break. He said he was going up into the mountains with a friend.”

Amaryllis put a mug on the counter in front of him. “What about the pirates?”

“No one knew the bastards were on the island at that point. Jackson and—” Lucas hesitated a beat, as if searching for the right word. “Jackson and his companion went to an abandoned company camp. They planned to stay in one of the old cabins and do some fishing. And a few other things.”

“What happened?”

“When I got back to headquarters, I realized something was wrong. I went up to the old mountain camp to look for Jackson and his, ah, friend. I found the bodies.” Lucas pulled the mug closer and gazed into the murky depths of the coff-tea. “At first it appeared that the pirates had happened onto the camp by chance, discovered Jackson and his companion, and killed both of them so that they couldn't give a warning.”

Amaryllis shuddered. “How ghastly.”

“Later I learned that the situation was somewhat different.”

“What happened?”

Lucas looked up, his eyes bleak. “The leader of the raiders was reasonably well organized. When it was all over, I searched his ship's cabin. He had extensive files. All sorts of records, notes, and plans. I discovered that it wasn't just bad luck that Jackson had gone to that old camp on that particular day. He was in league with the pirates.”

Amaryllis nearly spilled her coff-tea. She stared at Lucas from the other side of the counter. “He was working with them?”

Lucas wrapped both hands around his mug. “Anyone who wants to take control of the Western Islands has to deal with Lodestar Exploration.”

“Yes, of course.” Amaryllis frowned. “It's no secret that Lodestar virtually runs the Western Islands.”

“The company doesn't have much choice. The amenities of civilization are a little short out there. The only reason anyone even lives in the islands is because of the jelly-ice.”

“I know.”

“Lodestar is the chief employer in the islands. The company provides all the basic services and ensures reliable supply lines. Taking control of Lodestar means taking control of the islands and vice versa.” Lucas paused. “I didn't want to get rid of Jackson Rye. He wanted to get rid of me. He knew he needed help, at least at the beginning, because my employees, on the whole, are loyal. And I have a lot of friends out there. He required manpower so he did a deal with the pirates.”

Amaryllis hesitated. “He wanted sole control of Lodestar?”

“The idea was that when the gang took control of the islands, I would be among the victims. I was supposed to be the dead hero. With me out of the picture, Jackson would take control. He planned to run Lodestar single-handedly.”

“But what about his deal with the raiders?”

“You'd have to have known Jackson to understand. He expected to win at everything. He was from a world in which Ryes always came out on top. He thought he could handle the pirates after he was in charge of Lodestar.”

“My God.”

Lucas met her eyes. “Truth is, it wasn't a bad plan. He
probably could have gotten rid of his so-called allies once he was in control. The pirates were loosely organized and undisciplined. They had few supplies. They couldn't have lasted long without Lodestar assistance.”

“So Jackson Rye planned for the pirates to do his dirty work for him. Then he intended to turn on them once you were safely out of the picture.”

“That pretty well sums it up,” Lucas said wearily. “But the leader of the raiders had already figured out that Jackson was potentially dangerous. He never had any intention of allowing Rye to remain alive. He just used Jackson and then killed him.”

“The story was in the papers for weeks,” Amaryllis said slowly. “But I never heard that your partner had betrayed the company and all those people.”

“You didn't hear about it because I kept it out of the news reports.” Lucas's smile was cold. “Figured it wouldn't do the company image any good.”

Amaryllis watched him. “Is that the real reason you hushed up the facts?”

“I'm a businessman at heart. I always do what's best for the bottom line.”

“Mr. Expediency, is that it?” Amaryllis took a sip of coff-tea. “Know what I think? I think that there were a few other reasons why you decided to bury the truth.”

“What other reasons?”

“The Ryes and Miranda Locking. You didn't want any of them to learn the awful truth about Jackson, did you? You tried to protect them all.”

Lucas's expression was unreadable. “Like I said, it wouldn't have been good for the company image.”

“I think it was very noble of you to protect his name and reputation,” Amaryllis said.

He gave her a derisive smile. “If you really believe that, you're not nearly as smart as full-spectrum prisms are supposed to be. What I did wasn't noble. It was pragmatic.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Definitely noble. But I must admit, I'm amazed you were so successful at concealing the facts.”

“As president and sole surviving owner of the company, I
was in charge. I also had a couple of friends who helped me handle the situation. The reporters got the news I wanted them to get.”

“I see.”

Lucas swallowed the last of the coff-tea. “And if you still believe that I kept things quiet because I was so damn noble, there's one other fact you should consider.”

“What's that?”

“I mentioned that Jackson Rye took a companion with him the day he rendezvoused with the pirates.”

“Yes. You said he was killed, too.”

“That companion wasn't a man. It was my wife.”

Amaryllis's eyes misted. “I'm so sorry, Lucas. I recall reading that your wife also died during the initial raid. How terrible that she happened to be with Jackson that day at the camp.”

Lucas's mouth curved in a bleak smile. “Are you always this naïve or do you have to practice?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dora and Jackson were having an affair. Now do you understand? She didn't just happen to be with him that day. They went to the camp because she was sleeping with him, because they often disappeared together, and because she knew all about Rye's deal with the pirates.”

This time coff-tea did splash over the edge of Amaryllis's mug. She ignored it. Unable to think of anything to say, she reached out to touch Lucas's hand with what was meant to be a fleeting gesture of silent sympathy.

Lucas caught her fingers before she could withdraw. He squeezed gently, just enough to convey a warning. “I don't know why I told you the story. I've never told anyone else. I expect you to keep it confidential.”

“Of course.”

“Absolutely confidential,” he emphasized. “I don't even want your boss to know. Understood?”

“Yes.” Amaryllis could have sworn that she felt another whisper of the cold wind she had sensed earlier in the museum corridor. “Understood. You have my word on it.”

“The word of a professional prism.” Lucas turned her
hand over, exposing the inside of her wrist. He studied the veins that ran just beneath the skin as if they were lines on a map that led to some unknown destination. “If you tell anyone else what I told you tonight, I can make life difficult for you.”

Amaryllis looked into his eyes. In that moment she knew that the chill that filled the kitchen emanated from him. A dark fog seemed to be gathering beneath her kitchen cupboards. She was afraid to turn her head and look.

Lucas was doing this, she thought. She did not know how, but she knew that he was responsible. Anger blossomed inside her.

“Don't you dare threaten me, Lucas Trent. I gave you my word of honor.”

“Sorry.” Lucas released her hand abruptly. “I'm in a lousy mood, and you're catching the brunt of it. That's not right. None of this is your fault.”

“No, it isn't.” Surreptitiously, she waggled her fingers to make sure they all still functioned properly. The sensation of a cold wind blowing disappeared. She glanced at her kitchen cupboards and saw nothing but clean black-and-white tiles. “And I don't appreciate being intimidated.”

“Something tells me there's not much that could do that.”

And I'll bet it would take a heck of a lot to intimidate you, too
, she thought. “Look, don't be too hard on yourself just because you put your trust in the wrong people. It happens to everyone. Even prisms make mistakes like that.”

“Even prisms, huh?” Amusement flickered in his gaze. “That certainly makes me feel a lot better. You ever make that kind of mistake?”

She reflected fleetingly on her relationship with Gifford Osterley. “Even me. Being a prism doesn't guarantee perfect intuition, you know.”