In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(86)

He grinned. “That’s not true. You’re further, so the job falls to me by default. Laughter is a great tension reliever. Almost as good as sex. I guess if I can’t make you laugh, I can make you come. You’re so covered.”

She snorted helplessly into her hand. “Oh, God, stop it, you’ll make my makeup run. It always comes back to sex, doesn’t it?”

“It goes there on its own. No conscious help from me, I swear. Who can blame me, when you’re wearing that dress?”

“By the way, you never told me what this dress said,” she pointed out. “You just said it was a winner. Didn’t it talk to you, like the others?”

She was trying to play along, to lighten up, like he wanted, but the glance he cast at her was surprisingly somber. “Sure, it talked to me. It said, ‘There is a God.’ ”

Her face went hot. “Sam,” she whispered. “You’re overdoing it.”

“And you need to work on accepting compliments.”

“Maybe I do, but not right now,” she said. “I think we’ve arrived.”

Sam slowed at the wrought-iron gates, set in a high stonework wall. The road swirled in curving switchbacks up the hillside, through perfectly manicured grounds and terraced gardens toward the Villa Fenice, a ducal palace on the top of the hill.

The sun had set, leaving a fiery streak on the horizon that faded up to violet and then to deep cobalt blue. A single star glowed on the horizon. They drove into a rotunda that circled a fountain, a cluster of winged marble angels pouring water from urns, their dimpled limbs in a complicated tangle. A fragrant profusion of flowers bloomed everywhere. The air was heavy with their scent. The rotunda was full of high-end automobiles and uniformed staff driving them away.

Sam helped her out, gave his keys to an attendant. They strolled toward the entrance. The building was creamy white stone that had absorbed the sun’s heat all day and now seemed charged with power and radiating trapped energy. Torches flickered in sconces that flanked the entrance and the mirrored double staircases. There were no artificial lights. Sam took her arm, leading her across the flagstones and up the massive marble steps.

She spotted Hazlett in the arched entrance, across the wide expanse of marble paving stones. He hurried toward them. He was even more tanned than the last time she had seen him, and seemed far younger than his forty-eight years. She felt the subtle tension from Sam ratchet up, thrumming through her arm and into her body.

“Svetlana,” he said. “I am so glad. In spite of everything, here you are. Nothing can keep you down. You are an inspiration.”

“Michael,” she murmured, wondering frantically what to do with her hand, because Hazlett was not letting go, and his grip was tight, and hot. And now he was patting her with his other hand. Trapped.

He utterly ignored Sam’s presence.

Sam stood there quietly at her elbow, sizing him up.

“Sam, this is Michael Hazlett, my new employer,” she said. “Michael, this is Sam Petrie. I told you about him.”

“Ah, yes.” Forced to acknowledge him, Hazlett’s glance flashed over Sam. “The one who rode to your rescue? The famous Mr. Samuel Petrie, the Illuxit Foundation’s new mystery donor? You caused quite a stir with your gift.” He did not release Sveti’s hand to shake Sam’s.

Sam just looked at him. “You’re the founder of Illuxit?”

“Yes.” Hazlett flashed his teeth. “Biopharmaceutical development and commercial outsourcing. One of the biggest worldwide.”

“So, essentially, your company organizes clinical trials for new untested drugs in third world countries? Have I got that right?”

“Among other things,” Hazlett said. “We’ve helped develop some of the most important, top-selling drugs on the market, but I’ve recently stepped down from direct leadership. It’s time for Illuxit to give back, so I’m concentrating on the Illuxit Foundation. Most specifically on initiatives to combat trafficking, and funds to help the victims.”

“Yeah, I read up on that before I donated,” Sam said. “It looked well organized. Particularly now that she’ll be associated with it.” He jerked his chin in Sveti’s direction. “She’ll set you all straight.”

“Oh, yes,” Hazlett said with a big smile. “She’s unique. So utterly focused and rigorous. That’s what we need. She has an almost . . . well, a cutthroat quality, I might say, for lack of a better term.”

Sveti winced. “There must be a better term.”

“Consider it a compliment.” Hazlett’s teeth flashed. He turned back to Sam. “I watched that video of the slavery ring exposé, and I contacted her immediately. She’s ferocious. As unique as she is lovely.”

Sam’s grin looked feral. “Don’t I know it.”

“I’m sure you do,” Hazlett said. “I knew she was the one when I saw her video. That’s my passion, you see. Finding the pressure points. It’s a discipline that applies to any field of human endeavor. Finding the place to poke to make someone jump, or the exact point where medicine must be applied in order to be effective, or the precise place where the money must be spent to make a difference. In this case, Svetlana is the perfect woman. In the right place, at the right time, she could change the world. I’ll be privileged to be nearby and watch it happen.”