fast.”
“Something I learned from my boss. I’ll see you on the eighth.”
Was that just an arbitrary comment or a hint? It didn’t matter. She was going to keep this professional. “The eighth it is. Good-bye, and thank you again for this wonderful opportunity.”
“Good-bye, Ms. Grayson.” As soon as John Perry hung up the phone, he dialed his secretary’s number. “Delores, you can overnight the other letters to the prospective realtors for Navarone Place. Please add that they will have to clear their schedules to be in Dallas by the eighth. Please remove my name and private number and replace it with your information. Ms. Grayson is expecting a call within the hour for her travel arrangements. I know you’ll see that her trip is seamless.” Hanging up, he quickly dialed a number he seldom used.
“Navarone.”
“Mr. Navarone, Ms. Grayson and the other candidates will arrive in Dallas on April eighth. I will arrive on the seventh to ensure that all goes well.”
“Thank you, John.” Blade disconnected the cell phone and stared out the window on the twenty-ninth floor of Navarone Resorts and Spas in Tucson.
“You’re sure about this?” Shane, his friend for over twenty years and head of security for Navarone, was sprawled in the cushioned chair in front of Blade’s desk. The position was deceptive. Shane never relaxed. He had good cause.
“No,” came Blade’s slow answer. He had never been less sure of anything, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. For years nothing except business had held his attention … until Sierra.
“Just checking. Everything is in place.” Shane came lazily to his feet—all six-feet-plus of him. “The chopper is ready to take us to the airport, then we take the jet to Mexico.”
“Let’s go.” Blade turned sharply and headed toward the door. Work always helped him push everything else from his mind. He hoped it would again.
B efore Luke took early retirement from the FBI he was a top agent. Not even a bullet had deterred him from capturing his suspect. Luke used that same dogged determination in his office to gather information about Blade Navarone. There was not a lot to read, but Luke knew if you were powerful enough, and Blade certainly was, you could influence what was or was not written about you. Luke needed answers and facts. He knew where to get them. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed.
“Daniel Falcon.”
“Daniel, Luke. I need some answers.”
“Is everyone all right?” Daniel asked sharply.
“For the time being.” Luke quickly explained the situation. “What I need to know is if he’ll come at her head-on or do I need to pay him a visit and teach him some manners?”
“Man.” Daniel sighed the word. “I still remember Sierra in pigtails.”
“Long gone,” Luke told him. “Is Blade Navarone as ruthless with women as he is in his business dealings?”
“I was called ruthless before Madelyn came into my life.” Daniel said, his voice softening at the mention of his wife.
“That’s not making me feel better,” Luke said flatly. Daniel was a good man, a loyal friend and first cousin, but if you crossed him there was no place on earth you could hide from his wrath.
“Then know this: Blade fights fair.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. The tight muscles remained. “There has to be a reason besides the incident with the embezzler to explain his reputation for being cold-blooded.”
“There are several,” Daniel said, and Luke tensed. “One I distinctly remember. Four years ago Blade tried to buy two hundred acres from a rancher in Jackson Hole for his resort. The owner said he’d rather slow roast in hell than sell to an Indian.”
Luke cursed under his breath.
“Blade bought the land around the bigot. Landlocked, the rancher lost everything, but not before he sent his daughter to try and soften Blade up,” Daniel said, distaste in every word. “Blade sent her packing. A month later
“Something I learned from my boss. I’ll see you on the eighth.”
Was that just an arbitrary comment or a hint? It didn’t matter. She was going to keep this professional. “The eighth it is. Good-bye, and thank you again for this wonderful opportunity.”
“Good-bye, Ms. Grayson.” As soon as John Perry hung up the phone, he dialed his secretary’s number. “Delores, you can overnight the other letters to the prospective realtors for Navarone Place. Please add that they will have to clear their schedules to be in Dallas by the eighth. Please remove my name and private number and replace it with your information. Ms. Grayson is expecting a call within the hour for her travel arrangements. I know you’ll see that her trip is seamless.” Hanging up, he quickly dialed a number he seldom used.
“Navarone.”
“Mr. Navarone, Ms. Grayson and the other candidates will arrive in Dallas on April eighth. I will arrive on the seventh to ensure that all goes well.”
“Thank you, John.” Blade disconnected the cell phone and stared out the window on the twenty-ninth floor of Navarone Resorts and Spas in Tucson.
“You’re sure about this?” Shane, his friend for over twenty years and head of security for Navarone, was sprawled in the cushioned chair in front of Blade’s desk. The position was deceptive. Shane never relaxed. He had good cause.
“No,” came Blade’s slow answer. He had never been less sure of anything, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. For years nothing except business had held his attention … until Sierra.
“Just checking. Everything is in place.” Shane came lazily to his feet—all six-feet-plus of him. “The chopper is ready to take us to the airport, then we take the jet to Mexico.”
“Let’s go.” Blade turned sharply and headed toward the door. Work always helped him push everything else from his mind. He hoped it would again.
B efore Luke took early retirement from the FBI he was a top agent. Not even a bullet had deterred him from capturing his suspect. Luke used that same dogged determination in his office to gather information about Blade Navarone. There was not a lot to read, but Luke knew if you were powerful enough, and Blade certainly was, you could influence what was or was not written about you. Luke needed answers and facts. He knew where to get them. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed.
“Daniel Falcon.”
“Daniel, Luke. I need some answers.”
“Is everyone all right?” Daniel asked sharply.
“For the time being.” Luke quickly explained the situation. “What I need to know is if he’ll come at her head-on or do I need to pay him a visit and teach him some manners?”
“Man.” Daniel sighed the word. “I still remember Sierra in pigtails.”
“Long gone,” Luke told him. “Is Blade Navarone as ruthless with women as he is in his business dealings?”
“I was called ruthless before Madelyn came into my life.” Daniel said, his voice softening at the mention of his wife.
“That’s not making me feel better,” Luke said flatly. Daniel was a good man, a loyal friend and first cousin, but if you crossed him there was no place on earth you could hide from his wrath.
“Then know this: Blade fights fair.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. The tight muscles remained. “There has to be a reason besides the incident with the embezzler to explain his reputation for being cold-blooded.”
“There are several,” Daniel said, and Luke tensed. “One I distinctly remember. Four years ago Blade tried to buy two hundred acres from a rancher in Jackson Hole for his resort. The owner said he’d rather slow roast in hell than sell to an Indian.”
Luke cursed under his breath.
“Blade bought the land around the bigot. Landlocked, the rancher lost everything, but not before he sent his daughter to try and soften Blade up,” Daniel said, distaste in every word. “Blade sent her packing. A month later
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