There had to be. Rafe better get his eyes checked.
Conrad gulped from the mug. His hand found a paper napkin and he wiped his mouth, plunked his cup down and looked around Rafe to stare at Amber. “You know,” Conrad said quietly. “You know there are such things as curses, and you know how to break them.”
Amber stood, gazing at Conrad, still too pale. “You don’t know what you ask.”
Straightening, Conrad reached for the tube. “This is the Cymbler family tree. It’s five years out of date. Study it. You can see that what I said is true.” He glanced up at Rafe. “Rafe’s is there, too.” He jerked his head, indicating Rafe. “This is my friend, Rafe Davail. He’s cursed, too.”
Amber’s light pink lips moved. “I know.” Rafe didn’t actually hear the words.
“More coffee?” Conrad lifted his cup.
Amber moved to a side cabinet and reached toward a carafe. Rafe intercepted her. “I’d like some. I’ll do it.”
She stiffened and her body nearly brushed his. He could catch her scent and he recognized it, knew he’d never forget. Naturally it was the fragrance of crumbling amber. Dark. Musky. Dangerous.
Rafe poured himself a cup of coffee, stepped over and filled Conrad’s cup. Nope, not a drop of liquid on that table. He put the pitcher back.
Conrad drank, then cleared his throat. “I know there are rules to curses. Some sort of release or unbinding must be built into a major curse when it is invoked.” Conrad smiled but it wasn’t in amusement. He really believed this stuff.
Rafe strove not to.
Amber looked startled. She wet her lips. Color was coming back to her face, her lips were rosy now. “Yes?” she asked.
“The least you can do is follow my family tree back, see when the curse might have begun. I know you’re an excellent genealogist, can work back farther than others. I know you…have a special touch.”
Her whole body went stiff. It didn’t look good on her, she should always be supple. “I strive to give my clients satisfaction,” she said flatly.
“I’ve seen some of your reports,” Conrad said. “Incredible research and stories.” His eyes narrowed, and he drank more coffee. “Almost as if you were there.” His face went hard and Rafe was glad to see it. Conrad continued, “I’ll pay whatever you want for you to remove the curse on my son.”
“Conrad!” Rafe protested.
“And Rafe will pay whatever you want to remove the curse on me, even though he doesn’t believe in it.”
“I can’t do that,” Amber said.
“Then you look at my family tree and use your psychic gift to tune into the past and find out how I can break it.”
Rafe stared.
His cell rang and he pulled it from his pocket. “Ace Investigations.” He thumbed the speaker on.
“This is Herrera of Ace.” The prime investigator sounded tired. “We’ve found Marta Dimir and Dougie Tyne-Cymbler in Bakir Zagora.”
Conrad shot to his feet. Years dropped off him. “I’m outta here. I’ll be in Bakir Zagora by this evening.”
“Black Stream Hotel,” said Herrera.
“Wait!” Rafe said, blocking the door. Conrad shoved him away and ran through the lobby to the front door. Rafe knew he’d have to take the guy down to stop him.
“Rafe, take care of this business for me. Please.”
Rafe strode to catch up. “You can’t mean…”
Conrad grabbed Rafe’s shirt. “Look. I need all the help I can get.” He swallowed hard. “I feel like I’m in a war. I gotta go.”
“I understand that, but—”
“Never asked much from you, Rafe, but you need to fight for me on this front. Please.”
Chapter 4
RAFE LOCKED GLANCES with Conrad. Rafe didn’t know what to say, but time seemed to slow down and a chill touched his spine like the winter wind of mortality. Conrad was his best friend. Rafe had been hard on friends. Not even his brother wanted to be with him. Too bad, so sad.
And while he stood, Conrad shot out the door, into the Tesla and was gone. The way he was driving, he’d better watch for cops.
“Davail, you there?” That was shouted from his phone.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Keep an eye on Marta and Dougie. Conrad’s on his way.”
Herrera said, “I’ll need another man or two here in Bakir Zagora.”
“Money’s no object,” Rafe said.
“Right. Later.” The P.I. hung up.
When Rafe went back into the conference room, Amber had her arms crossed over her very fine breasts. Her expression was cool. “There are some things money can’t buy.”
Rafe shut the door hard behind him. He should go after Conrad.
But his friend had asked him to help him here. “Are we talking about ‘curse breaking’?”
“That’s right,” she said. “No amount of money on the face of the earth—”
Rafe waved. “Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t believe her. People always had a price. And he usually solved problems by throwing money at them. Money he’d inherited and which his brother invested very well, as he’d been told acidly the night before.
He ran his hand through his hair. His scalp was sweaty and he hadn’t noticed. “What about genealogy?”
“What about it?”
“Money can buy a good trace of family trees. We’re very good clients, Ms. Sarga.” He rubbed his neck, squeezed his shoulder blades. “Look, can we discuss this somewhere else? The buzz from the lighting here is really giving me a headache.”
Her brows rose. “Buzz from the lighting.”
“That’s right. And I’ll need to get a taxi or rent a car, or buy one.”
She sighed. “There’s a good coffeehouse around the corner, the Sensitive New Age Bean.”
“That where you got the drinks?” He gestured to the carafes on the sideboard.
“Yes.”
“Sold,” he said.
“You go ahead. I’ll meet you there. I need to tidy up here.”
Nodding, he opened the door and walked out,
