man would I be if I said I liked stealing secrets from people?”
“ An honest one.”
A few seconds of silence passed as his face filled with uncertainty. It appeared as if he were debating the necessity of telling me more than I needed to know.
“ I miss…I miss the excitement of it perhaps. I thought I would like getting away from a life where you could not predict from one day to the next. And then there are days when I’m sitting at my desk at the boatyard, up to my elbows in invoices, and I will miss it a lot.” He gave an irritated sigh. “Is that honest enough for you?” he muttered.
He quickly walked over to the bed and picked up his empty black suitcase. He struggled to zip the bag shut as he carried it over to the closet. He threw the offending luggage on the closet floor and slammed the door closed. Keeping his back to me, he stood motionless in front of the closet door taking in one deep breath after another.
I longed to reach out and soothe his frustration, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. During our time together I had learned that Dallas August was a man who preferred to keep his pain permanently locked away inside of him. I had never been allowed to reach beyond his cool exterior and explore the murky depths of his soul.
“ Maybe this business with Caston will be good for you. So you can feel that excitement again,” I said, hoping to allay the tension between us.
He turned and looked at me with his elusive blue eyes. “But I’m not the one going out there, you are. Which means we have some work ahead of us before the party.”
“ What kind of work?”
“ Homework on Caston.” He walked over to my computer case on the floor by the bed and pulled out my laptop computer. “You’ll need to learn everything you can about the man. First, we search the Internet on business dealings and public affairs. Find out his likes and dislikes. Ex-wives, children, relatives, anything you can use to deepen his interest in you.” He placed the computer on the bed and lifted the lid. “Remember, Nicci, this is a target. And you can never assume anything. Know everything and build your strategy on what you know. Never guess. It only leads to mistakes. Deadly mistakes.”
I felt my stomach sink. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Dallas grinned at me as he turned on my computer. “Welcome to my world.”
Chapter Eight
The Katrina Relief Benefit was at the Rue Royale Gallery on the five hundred block of Royal Street in the French Quarter. The three story square building dated back to the eighteen hundreds with its yellow stucco exterior and wide green shutters over the front doors and windows. Outside the entrance were life-sized garishly painted statues of naked men in an assortment of compromising positions. By the look of the statues, I suspected I was in for one hell of an interesting evening.
“ I’ll be close by if you need me. Just signal to me if things get uncomfortable,” Dallas whispered behind me as we approached the entrance. “And stop fidgeting,” he quietly ordered.
I pulled the black lace shall around my shoulders closer to my body and then nodded slightly. I did not look back at him. Dallas had promised he would be there for me. He planned on remaining hidden in the crowds to avoid being seen by Simon.
I watched as a slender figure dressed in a fitted black tuxedo darted into the entrance ahead of me. I smelled his spicy cologne and instantly knew it was Dallas. I smiled to myself and then took in a deep breath as I stepped inside the door.
The gallery was a large room with exposed wooden beams in the ceiling above and brown stained cement floors. Around the room, hanging on the old red brick walls, were portraits of distorted faces of men. All of the portraits were done in an assortment of charcoals, oil paints, and watercolors. As I approached the registration table, just inside of the front door, I felt a hand gently take my elbow.
“ You look lovely my
“ An honest one.”
A few seconds of silence passed as his face filled with uncertainty. It appeared as if he were debating the necessity of telling me more than I needed to know.
“ I miss…I miss the excitement of it perhaps. I thought I would like getting away from a life where you could not predict from one day to the next. And then there are days when I’m sitting at my desk at the boatyard, up to my elbows in invoices, and I will miss it a lot.” He gave an irritated sigh. “Is that honest enough for you?” he muttered.
He quickly walked over to the bed and picked up his empty black suitcase. He struggled to zip the bag shut as he carried it over to the closet. He threw the offending luggage on the closet floor and slammed the door closed. Keeping his back to me, he stood motionless in front of the closet door taking in one deep breath after another.
I longed to reach out and soothe his frustration, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. During our time together I had learned that Dallas August was a man who preferred to keep his pain permanently locked away inside of him. I had never been allowed to reach beyond his cool exterior and explore the murky depths of his soul.
“ Maybe this business with Caston will be good for you. So you can feel that excitement again,” I said, hoping to allay the tension between us.
He turned and looked at me with his elusive blue eyes. “But I’m not the one going out there, you are. Which means we have some work ahead of us before the party.”
“ What kind of work?”
“ Homework on Caston.” He walked over to my computer case on the floor by the bed and pulled out my laptop computer. “You’ll need to learn everything you can about the man. First, we search the Internet on business dealings and public affairs. Find out his likes and dislikes. Ex-wives, children, relatives, anything you can use to deepen his interest in you.” He placed the computer on the bed and lifted the lid. “Remember, Nicci, this is a target. And you can never assume anything. Know everything and build your strategy on what you know. Never guess. It only leads to mistakes. Deadly mistakes.”
I felt my stomach sink. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Dallas grinned at me as he turned on my computer. “Welcome to my world.”
Chapter Eight
The Katrina Relief Benefit was at the Rue Royale Gallery on the five hundred block of Royal Street in the French Quarter. The three story square building dated back to the eighteen hundreds with its yellow stucco exterior and wide green shutters over the front doors and windows. Outside the entrance were life-sized garishly painted statues of naked men in an assortment of compromising positions. By the look of the statues, I suspected I was in for one hell of an interesting evening.
“ I’ll be close by if you need me. Just signal to me if things get uncomfortable,” Dallas whispered behind me as we approached the entrance. “And stop fidgeting,” he quietly ordered.
I pulled the black lace shall around my shoulders closer to my body and then nodded slightly. I did not look back at him. Dallas had promised he would be there for me. He planned on remaining hidden in the crowds to avoid being seen by Simon.
I watched as a slender figure dressed in a fitted black tuxedo darted into the entrance ahead of me. I smelled his spicy cologne and instantly knew it was Dallas. I smiled to myself and then took in a deep breath as I stepped inside the door.
The gallery was a large room with exposed wooden beams in the ceiling above and brown stained cement floors. Around the room, hanging on the old red brick walls, were portraits of distorted faces of men. All of the portraits were done in an assortment of charcoals, oil paints, and watercolors. As I approached the registration table, just inside of the front door, I felt a hand gently take my elbow.
“ You look lovely my
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