Wildest Hearts

luck, just overnight. I should be back on Friday.”

    “Okay.”

    He studied her in silence for a moment. “Will you miss me, Annie?”

    “Yes,” she admitted.

    “Good,” he said. “I'm glad.”

    But he didn't look really glad about it, Annie thought. Oliver's eyes gleamed with an expression that could more properly be described as arrogant satisfaction.

    “That's about it as far as Featly and Moss are concerned.” Bolt eased the limousine through the heavy airport traffic with the precision of a professional sniper taking aim. “Nothing unusual in their backgrounds, at least not that I could turn up in forty-eight hours. Just a couple of good businessmen making a substantial living supplying parts for companies like Lyncroft.”

    “Some other firm must have convinced them that Lyncroft was no longer a major player and that Featly and Moss should shift their priorities,” Oliver observed. He flipped through the short printout Bolt had given him to read. “If that's the case, maybe I can convince them to change their minds.”

    “Yes, sir.” Bolt slid the limousine into an incredibly minute slot near the curb. “One more thing, sir.”

    “Yes?”

    Bolt turned and rested one arm on the back of the seat. His gold-mirrored sunglasses reflected the scene on the sidewalk outside the car.

    “I didn't turn up anything useful on Featly and Moss,” Bolt said, “but there was something strange about that last trip Barry Cork made down to California to see them.”

    Oliver stuffed the printout into his attaché case. “Go on.”

    “Cork supposedly went down there specifically to talk to Featly and Moss. Right?”

    “Right.”

    “As far as I can tell, he only spent an hour with them.”

    Oliver looked up as he snapped the case shut. “He was gone for several days. Where was he the rest of the time?”

    “I couldn't trace his movements for the entire period, but I could place him at private meetings with at least two of Lyncroft's biggest competitors.”

    “I'll be damned.” Oliver felt something click into place.

    “Furthermore, those meetings were not held at the offices of the firms involved,” Bolt concluded. “They were held in a hotel room.”

    “Thank you, Bolt. You never fail to earn your salary.”

    “I do my best, sir. Will you want me to keep an eye on Mrs. Rain while you're out of town?”

    Oliver hesitated. “No,” he said finally. “That won't be necessary.”

10

    Arthur? Where are you? Are you in here?” Annie surveyed the musty interior of Quigley's Bookshop, searching for Arthur among the ceiling-high aisles crammed with old volumes.

    “Up here, Annie. I'll be right down.”

    Annie glanced up and saw Arthur at the top of a ladder. He was wedging an old leather-bound book carefully into place on a shelf full of other ancient tomes.

    “I need a book,” Annie said. “At least, I think I need one.”

    “Sure. What book?” Arthur started down the ladder. He was a small, wiry man with a receding hairline and kind brown eyes. He wore a pair of horn-rim glasses perched on his nose. He was dressed in a pair of brown corduroy trousers, a rumpled sweater, and loafers.

    “I don't know exactly what book I want,” Annie explained as Arthur reached the bottom of the ladder. “I just know the subject.”

    “And that is?”

    “Sex.”

    Arthur blinked at her from behind his horn-rims. “You want a book on sex?”

    “A manual or something.” Annie blushed. She lowered her voice. “It's for my husband.”

    “Ah.” Arthur blushed, too. “Your new husband. That would be Oliver Rain.”

    “Right.” Annie glanced curiously down one aisle labeled Health. This was turning out to be a bit more awkward than she had expected. But Arthur was a good friend. He would understand.

    “I see.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Would that be a basic manual? Intermediate? Advanced?”

    Annie considered the question with a small frown. “Advanced. He knows the basics. He knows the intermediate stuff, too.” She felt herself turning even pinker. “In fact, he knows a lot about sex. A great deal more than I do. The problem isn't technique.”

    Arthur looked sympathetic. “Would it be a problem of premature ejaculation, then?”

    “Lord, no,” Annie muttered. “Sometimes I wish it were. Actually, it's more of a communication problem.”

    “Ah,” Arthur said again, nodding wisely this time. “A communication problem. What, exactly, does Rain have