Guild Boss (Ghost Hunters #14)(51)

“Uh—” Gabriel looked down at the endless string of emails that had accumulated on his phone in recent days. The thought of not having to go through them and figure out how to respond gave him a genuine thrill of relief.

“Okay,” he said.

Aiden glanced down at his notes. “As I was saying, I’ve got three items to run by you. Dillon Westover of Westover Outfitters would like to invite you to lunch to discuss what he can do for the Guild. He’s open any day this week.”

“I’m not. Tell him we’ll be in touch if we need his services.”

“Yes, sir.” Aiden made a note. “Next up, Mr. and Mrs. Roxby of Roxby Weather Wizards have, and I quote, ‘an exciting opportunity to discuss with you.’”

“We’ll be in touch if we need their services.”

“Right.” Aiden made another note. “Ms. Cassandra Keele, president and CEO of Keele Investigations, would like to invite you to join her for a private business dinner to discuss what her firm can do for the Guild.”

“Tell her we’ll be in touch if we—”

“Need her services. Got it.” Aiden cleared his throat. “Lastly, Mr. Smith, the owner of the Amber Palace, would like to host you at a small gathering of the Illusion Club.”

“What’s the Illusion Club?”

Aiden looked up. “It’s a club that includes the most important, most influential local power brokers. My research indicates that Mr. Smith and his friends run this town.”

“Tell Mr. Smith that I’ll be in touch—”

“I’m afraid you can’t turn down this invitation,” Aiden said. “Like it or not, the Guild absolutely must establish cordial relations with the other power brokers here.”

“Do I look like a power broker to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gabriel groaned. “All right. Accept the invitation. Advise Mr. Smith that I will be accompanied by Ms. Lucy Bell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Her dust bunny will probably be with us. You had better warn Mr. Smith that he might want to put the hors d’oeuvres behind a mag-steel barricade.”

Aiden chuckled. “I saw the photos of the cake disaster at the engagement reception. Cute.”

“Not everyone thought so. Is that it? Are we done here? Because I’ve got some actual work to do.”

“What work is that?”

“I have to track down and interview all the really good amber tuners in the city.”

“There are amber tuner shops on every corner and in every jewelry store in town. Can you be more specific?”

“That,” Gabriel said, “is an excellent question.” He got to his feet, walked around the desk, and propped his backside against it. He folded his arms and gave the matter some thought. “I’m looking for a tuner who can handle gray amber. Rez amber, to be specific.”

“I’ve never heard of gray amber, resonating or otherwise.”

“Neither has anyone else, apparently. The general consensus is that it probably comes from the Ghost City.”

“All right, so we know it’s rare,” Aiden said. “That’s helpful, because only the most skilled tuners can handle rare or unusual rez amber. Anything else?”

Gabriel unfolded his arms, straightened, and crossed the room to the coatrack. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and took out the pendants. “Specifically, I’m looking for the tuner who handled these stones.”

“They’re glowing. That’s weird.”

“They’re glowing because they are in close proximity. Watch what happens when they are separated.”

He tossed one of the pendants to Aiden and walked to the far end of the big office. The farther away he got, the duller the amber became.

Aiden studied the pendant he was holding. “Signal stones. We are definitely looking for a very specialized tuner.” He looked up, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I’ll get started on the search immediately.”

“You’ll get started?”

“You’ve got staff now, Mr. Jones. As it happens, I’m very good at finding people.”

“Is that right? Is that a skill you picked up in the PR department?”

“You’d be surprised by what you can learn working in public relations.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR





At the end of the second tour of the day, Lucy concluded that Jared Flint was going to be as big an asset as Otis when it came to encouraging tips. People descending from the bus shoved cash at her so fast she had to use both hands, but their attention was on Otis and Jared.

Her bodyguard was a poster boy for the new image the Guilds were trying to create: young, good-looking, and dashing in his khaki-and-leather uniform, boots, and gear belt. He projected strength and competence. Everything about him, from his broad shoulders to his body language and easy confidence, sent a message of professionalism, talent, and dedication to the mission.

“Great tour,” a fortysomething woman said. She gave Jared a flirtatious smile. “I would have been quite nervous when that storm came up out of nowhere if you hadn’t been on board. It’s always good to have a Guild man around in a situation like that.”