Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

to the bedroom. In the kitchen, a steel blade sliced through a third lemon and smacked into the wood cutting board.
    “What do you want from me?” Honor asked finally.
    “Cooperation.”
    “You’re getting it.” Honor began squeezing the remaining lemon halves into the salmon salad mixture.
    “Are we?”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that your partner going through my closet right now without so much as a piece of official paper in sight?”
    “If you want to avoid this kind of intrusion in the future, let Mather be your, um, fishing guide.”
    “Can he run a SeaSport?”
    “If he can’t, I’m sure we have someone who can.”
    “So do I. His name is Jake Mallory.”
    “You’ve known him, what—two days?”
    “The proof is in the pudding. Or in this case, in the salmon salad.”
    “He’s very good in bed, isn’t he?” Ellen asked in the same casual tone of voice.
    “The salmon? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never slept with one of them.”
    Ellen smiled briefly. “You know I meant Jake. Such stamina. Unusual in a man over twenty.”
    “I’ll take your word for it.”
    “While you’re at it, take my word for this. Jake wants the same thing from you that we do.”
    “Then you’re out of luck. Ménage a´ trois isn’t my style. I’m the old-fashioned type—one of any sex at a time.”
    Honor finished squeezing and started stirring with more force than the salmon needed. Ellen’s fingernails beat a brief tattoo on her purse. The sound of dresser drawers opening and closing came from the bedroom.
    “Do you really think that all Jake wants from you is your rather ordinary body?” Ellen asked curiously.
    “What does that have to do with Mather going through my underwear?” Honor retorted. She prayed that her expression didn’t give away what she was thinking: after spectacular pieces of work like Marju and Ellen, Honor knew just how a very small brown hen would feel in a peacock parade.
    Ellen tried another approach. “Have you ever heard of the Amber Room?”
    “Yes. It’s not in my dresser drawers. Guaranteed.”
    “Either you’re quite smart or quite stupid.”
    “When you figure it out, tell somebody who cares.”
    “What if I were to tell you that Jake was thrown out of Russia and is suspected of setting up your brother to take the blame for the theft of a panel from the Amber Room?”
    Honor yanked out a loaf of bread and began slathering salmon salad over one piece. Part of her was glad that she already knew the unhappy truth about Jay/Jake Mallory. Most of her just wanted to grab the stunning, chatty Ms. Lazarus and drop her off a cliff.
    “Miss Donovan? Did you hear me? Jake is at best your competitor and at worst your brother’s killer.”
    “Is that the official U.S. position?” Honor asked.
    “It’s one of them.”
    “I don’t like that one. Tell me another.”
    “Kyle stole a panel from the Amber Room.”
    “Nope. Don’t like that one either.”
    “Take your pick.”
    “None of the above.”
    Honor slapped a second piece of bread on top of the first and took a big bite. It tasted like library paste. She had forgotten to add salt or pepper, but she was damned if she would let on how rattled she was by looking for such obvious seasonings now. Grimly she chewed, swallowed, and took another bite.
    Mather walked into the kitchen. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” he began.
    “Yeah, right,” Honor said. “That popping sound we just heard was your ear coming unstuck from the door.”
    “Since it’s obvious that Miss Donovan already knew the real reason for Jake’s interest in her,” Mather said, “why don’t we tell her some things she might not know?”
    Ellen tilted her head and appeared to think it over. “Sweet reason?”
    “It works for some people.”
    “Damned few,” Ellen said. Then she shrugged. “Go ahead.”
    “As a member of a family that is involved in international trade,” Mather said, “you are aware of the new world dynamic since the Berlin Wall came down.”
    Honor nodded and went to the refrigerator to look for a Coke. The sandwich definitely needed help getting down her tight, dry throat. She hoped that the poker face she had learned at the hands of four sister-baiting brothers was firmly in place. She didn’t want to reveal any bleeding wounds to the pinstriped shark.
    “Countries that once depended on a vast central government for order, economy, and direction were thrown without preparation into a free-market