is pure tedium at times, and you're not wasting my time. It's the little things that sometimes get the job done, huh? We can go to the computer, or… " He paused, turning.
Nikki and Julian both looked toward the door, as well.
She barely swallowed back a gasp.
The man standing in the doorway was the same man who had come striding into the fight the night before.
Like Joulette, he would never blend into any crowd.
He stood about six-two, with a solid, yet lean, agile-looking build. His dead-straight black hair was telltale, though Nikki vaguely remembered someone telling her once that hair couldn't really be black, only a very dark brown.
Could have fooled her. This man's hair was so dark it wasn't just black, but jet.
Then there were his eyes. A deep and startling green against the bronze of his skin.
She met those eyes with surprise. And as her eyes touched his, she felt a strange tremor deep inside. Just as she had when their hands had met the night before.
"You," Julian breathed.
"You all know each other?" Massey, who was behind the unnamed man, demanded in surprise.
"We met at a minor street brawl last night," the man said, smiling. "Well, actually, we didn't meet formally."
The guy had a truly great face, Nikki thought. Full of character. A chin like concrete. High, broad cheekbones. Bone structure to die for…
Die for…
Not a term to use these days.
"Thanks again for the help," Julian said, striding around the desk to shake hands.
"I'll make the formal introduction, then," Massey said. "Nikki DuMonde, Julian Lalac, this is Brent Blackhawk. Brent, Nikki, Julian… "
"Pleased to meet you," Brent said, smiling in acknowledgment.
"Are you a cop?" Nikki asked.
His smile deepened. He shook his head. "Kind of a troubleshooter," he murmured vaguely.
"Here as a guest," Massey said.
Marc Joulette rose, stretching. "This is a good break. Nikki, you want a soda? A coffee? Julian? Anyone… ? I've got to go get another book."
"Nothing for me, thanks," Brent Blackhawk said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I kind of came in on a… well, I'm curious. Thought you might have run into this guy."
He strode to the desk, setting down a picture.
Nikki gasped, stared at the picture, then back at Brent Blackhawk. His eyes were strangely knowing. She looked around at the others.
"That's him!" she exclaimed. She looked around at the others, triumphant. "That's him," she repeated.
"Good. We know who it is, then," Julian said, pleased.
But the others didn't say a word. They were staring at her strangely. Massey and Joulette looked stunned. Brent Blackhawk seemed to be seeing something beneath the surface that brought a pensive look to his eyes as he studied her.
"What's the matter? Who is he?" Nikki asked, feeling a headache coming on strong.
"You have to be mistaken," Joulette said softly.
"No, I'm not," Nikki said firmly.
"Nikki, you've been through a lot," Massey said.
"This is the man I saw," Nikki said indignantly. "I know it. So what's the problem?"
"You couldn't have seen him," Massey said. "Not last night."
"And why not?"
"Because he's dead," Joulette explained very softly.
The room spun. Nikki was suddenly afraid she was going to pass out. Fear washed over her in terrible, sweeping waves.
She fought the sensation furiously.
She gritted her teeth hard and rose.
"He has a double, a twin or something, then. Or you've been deceived. I saw this man last night. I
saw
him. I have excellent eyesight. Twenty-twenty." When no one said anything in response, she went on, "Excuse me, it's obvious you don't intend to believe me."
She started out of the room. Brent Blackhawk was watching her just as intently as the others. And he was in her way.
It suddenly seemed to be all his fault. After all, he'd brought in the picture.
"Excuse me," she said, trying to get past him.
"Miss DuMonde," he said, "I'd really like to talk to you—"
"Not now." Julian was behind her. Both
Nikki and Julian both looked toward the door, as well.
She barely swallowed back a gasp.
The man standing in the doorway was the same man who had come striding into the fight the night before.
Like Joulette, he would never blend into any crowd.
He stood about six-two, with a solid, yet lean, agile-looking build. His dead-straight black hair was telltale, though Nikki vaguely remembered someone telling her once that hair couldn't really be black, only a very dark brown.
Could have fooled her. This man's hair was so dark it wasn't just black, but jet.
Then there were his eyes. A deep and startling green against the bronze of his skin.
She met those eyes with surprise. And as her eyes touched his, she felt a strange tremor deep inside. Just as she had when their hands had met the night before.
"You," Julian breathed.
"You all know each other?" Massey, who was behind the unnamed man, demanded in surprise.
"We met at a minor street brawl last night," the man said, smiling. "Well, actually, we didn't meet formally."
The guy had a truly great face, Nikki thought. Full of character. A chin like concrete. High, broad cheekbones. Bone structure to die for…
Die for…
Not a term to use these days.
"Thanks again for the help," Julian said, striding around the desk to shake hands.
"I'll make the formal introduction, then," Massey said. "Nikki DuMonde, Julian Lalac, this is Brent Blackhawk. Brent, Nikki, Julian… "
"Pleased to meet you," Brent said, smiling in acknowledgment.
"Are you a cop?" Nikki asked.
His smile deepened. He shook his head. "Kind of a troubleshooter," he murmured vaguely.
"Here as a guest," Massey said.
Marc Joulette rose, stretching. "This is a good break. Nikki, you want a soda? A coffee? Julian? Anyone… ? I've got to go get another book."
"Nothing for me, thanks," Brent Blackhawk said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I kind of came in on a… well, I'm curious. Thought you might have run into this guy."
He strode to the desk, setting down a picture.
Nikki gasped, stared at the picture, then back at Brent Blackhawk. His eyes were strangely knowing. She looked around at the others.
"That's him!" she exclaimed. She looked around at the others, triumphant. "That's him," she repeated.
"Good. We know who it is, then," Julian said, pleased.
But the others didn't say a word. They were staring at her strangely. Massey and Joulette looked stunned. Brent Blackhawk seemed to be seeing something beneath the surface that brought a pensive look to his eyes as he studied her.
"What's the matter? Who is he?" Nikki asked, feeling a headache coming on strong.
"You have to be mistaken," Joulette said softly.
"No, I'm not," Nikki said firmly.
"Nikki, you've been through a lot," Massey said.
"This is the man I saw," Nikki said indignantly. "I know it. So what's the problem?"
"You couldn't have seen him," Massey said. "Not last night."
"And why not?"
"Because he's dead," Joulette explained very softly.
The room spun. Nikki was suddenly afraid she was going to pass out. Fear washed over her in terrible, sweeping waves.
She fought the sensation furiously.
She gritted her teeth hard and rose.
"He has a double, a twin or something, then. Or you've been deceived. I saw this man last night. I
saw
him. I have excellent eyesight. Twenty-twenty." When no one said anything in response, she went on, "Excuse me, it's obvious you don't intend to believe me."
She started out of the room. Brent Blackhawk was watching her just as intently as the others. And he was in her way.
It suddenly seemed to be all his fault. After all, he'd brought in the picture.
"Excuse me," she said, trying to get past him.
"Miss DuMonde," he said, "I'd really like to talk to you—"
"Not now." Julian was behind her. Both
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