After Midnight. Diana Palmer
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“It’s a nice name. I like it.” She smiled as if she genuinely didn’t recognize him.
He relaxed visibly. His firm mouth tugged into a smile. “Thanks for taking care of me,” he added. “It’s been a long time since anyone had to do that.”
“Nobody’s invulnerable,” she reminded him. “But next time, you might check that there aren’t any rocks around when you decide to use the Jet Ski.”
“I’ll do that.”
He finished his coffee and reluctantly, she thought, got to his feet. “I’ll return your friend’s clothes. Thanks for the loan.”
“I can run you home, if you like,” she offered, knowing full well that he wouldn’t risk letting her see where he lived. He thought she was an opportunist. She could have laughed out loud at the very idea.
“No, thanks,” he said quickly, smiling to soften the rejection. “I need the exercise. You’ve been very kind.” His eyes were shrewd. “I hope I can repay you one day.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she assured him as she stood. “Don’t we all have a moral duty to help each other out when we’re in need?” She looked at her slender, well-kept hands. “I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”
That last bit was meant to rattle him, but it didn’t work. She looked up, impishly, and he was just watching her with a lifted eyebrow and a faintly indulgent smile.
“Of course I would,” he assured her. But he was wary again, looking for traps, even while his eyes were quietly bold on her soft curves.
“It was nice meeting you,” she added.
“Same here.” He gave her a last wistful appraisal and went with long, determined strides toward the front door. He walked as if he’d go right over anything in his path, and Nikki envied him that self-confidence. She had it, to a degree, but in a standing fight, he was going to be a hard man to beat. She’d have to remember and warn Clayton not to underestimate Lombard; and do it without revealing that the source of her information was the man himself.
The rambling beach house where Kane lived was in the same immaculate shape he’d left it. His housekeeper had been in, apparently unconcerned that he was missing. That shouldn’t surprise him. Unless he paid people, no one seemed to notice if he lived or died.
He chided himself for that cynical thought. Women did agonize over him from time to time. He had a mistress who pretended to care in return for the expensive presents he gave her with careless affection. But no one cared as much as his son had. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember the horror of his last sight of the young boy.
There was a portrait of his son with his late wife on the side table. He looked at that, instead, remembering David as a bright young man with his mother’s light hair and eyes and her smile. Although he and Evelyn had grown apart over their years together, David had been loved and cherished by both of them. See what you get for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, he thought. Just a routine business trip, you said, and they could go with you. Then all hell broke loose the day they arrived, and he and his family were caught innocently in the cross fire.
He’d blamed himself bitterly for all of it, but time was taking away some of the sting. He had to go on, after all.
The new automotive plant in an industrial Charleston suburb had certainly been a step in the right direction. Planned long before the death of his family, it had just begun operation about the time they were buried. Now it was the lynchpin of his sanity.
He changed into a knit shirt and shorts, idly placing his borrowed clothing to be washed before he returned it. Nikki’s sparkling green eyes came to mind and made him smile. She was so young, he mused, and probably a madcap when she set her mind to it. For a moment he allowed himself to envy her lover. She had a pretty body, slender and winsome. But he had Chris when he needed a woman desperately, and there was no place for a permanent woman in his life. He made sure that Chris knew it, so that she wouldn’t expect too much. Marriage was out.
He picked up the telephone and dialed the offices of the Charleston plant. What he needed, he told himself, was something to occupy his mind again.
“Get Will Jurkins on the line,” he replied to his secretary’s polite greeting.
“Yes, sir,” she said at once.
A minute later, a slow voice came on the line. “How’s the vacation going, Mr. Lombard?”
“So far, so good,” Kane said carelessly. “I want to know why you’ve terminated that contract with the Coastal Waste Company?”
There was a pause. Jurkins should have realized that his superior would fax that information up to Kane Lombard. Sick or not, Ed Nelson was on the ball, as many plant managers were not. “Well…uh, I had to.”
“Why?”
The word almost struck him. Jurkins wiped his sweaty brow, glancing around from his desk to the warehouse facility where dangerous materials were kept before they were picked up by waste disposal companies. It was considered less expensive to hire that done rather than provide trucks and men to do it. The city could handle toxic substances at its landfill, but Lombard International had contracted CWC to do it since its opening.
“I believe I mentioned to you, Mr. Lombard, that I noticed discrepancies in their invoices.”
“I don’t remember any such conversation.”
Jurkins kept his head, barely. “Listen, Mr. Lombard,” he began in a conciliatory tone, “you’re a busy man. You can’t keep up with all the little details of a plant this size. You sit on the board of directors of three other corporations and the board of trustees of two colleges, you belong to business organizations where you hold office. I mean, how would you have the time to sift through all the day-to-day stuff here?”
Kane took a breath to stem his rush of temper. The man was new, after all, as chief of the waste disposal unit. And he made sense. “That’s true. I haven’t time to oversee every facet of every operation. Normally, this would be Ed Nelson’s problem.”
“I know that. Yes, I do, sir. But Mr. Nelson’s had kidney stones and he had to have surgery for them last week. He’s sort of low. Not that he doesn’t keep up with things,” he added quickly. “He’s still on top of the situation here.” That wasn’t quite true, but the wording gave Lombard the impression that Nelson had agreed with Jurkins’s decision to replace CWC.
Kane relaxed. Jurkins was a native of Charleston. He’d know the ins and outs of sanitation, and surely he’d already have a handle on the proper people to do a good job. “All right,” he said. “Who have you contracted with to replace CWC?”
“I found a very reputable company, Mr. Lombard,” he assured his boss. “Very reputable, indeed. In fact, two of the local automotive parts companies use them. It’s Burke’s.”
“Burke’s?”
“They’re not as well-known as CWC, sir,” Jurkins