The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(86)
“You mean they’ll view the residents as research subjects,” Olivia said.
“That will definitely piss off the locals,” Catalina warned.
“We’re aware of that,” Victor said. “Our cunning plan is to establish a satellite office here in Seattle.”
Olivia’s eyes tightened at the corners. “You want to take over our business?”
“No, no, no,” Lucas said quickly. “The Foundation would be a client of Lark and LeClair. The teams from Vegas will be flying through Seattle. We will provide guides to meet them and escort them to Fogg Lake but we want them to stop here first to get some background on the history of the community.”
“Lark and LeClair is not a travel agency,” Catalina said.
Victor fixed his piercing gaze on Catalina. “Here’s the rest of the deal, Ms. Lark. While the Foundation will provide security at the excavation site, it’s a given that there will be problems. There always are in situations like this.”
“Because the artifacts in that old lab are worth a fortune?” Catalina said.
“Yes. No matter how tight our security is, word of the discovery will leak out and attract the attention of raiders and freelancers. But our primary concern is Vortex.”
“Assuming it really did exist and that someone is trying to find it,” Catalina said.
Slater looked at her. “After recent incidents we can no longer assume it’s just a legend. Someone or some group of people is apparently trying to find that particular lab, and they are willing to kill to do it. There’s a high probability that there are some very dangerous secrets inside. It would be best if those secrets did not—”
“Fall into the wrong hands,” Catalina said. “I get it. You know, what you really should be doing is searching for whoever is trying to find that old lab.”
“Trust me,” Victor said. “The Foundation is working on that angle. But in the meantime we need to protect the Fogg Lake lab and we would like your professional assistance.”
Catalina thought about that for a beat. “Huh.”
Olivia looked at her. “A client is a client, and one thing we know about the Foundation is that it pays its bills.”
“There is that,” Catalina conceded.
“We could use the money to move into more upscale offices,” Olivia continued, enthusiasm sparking in her tone. “We would have the resources to go after that niche market of singles-with-a-paranormal-vibe-seeking-singles-with-a-paranormal-vibe that we’ve been trying to figure out how to target.”
Catalina drank some wine and thought about it some more.
“Huh,” she said again.
Slater cleared his throat. “I have suggested that if Lark and LeClair does decide to accept the Foundation as a client, it will need a representative from headquarters stationed here in Seattle.”
Catalina looked at him. “Would this representative be here on a temporary basis?”
Slater’s eyes heated. “Permanent.”
A rush of joy lifted Catalina’s senses. The room got a little brighter. She looked at Olivia.
“I think we could add the Foundation to our list of clients,” she said.
Olivia cast a benevolent smile on her and on Slater.
“Working together at Lark and LeClair will give the two of you plenty of time to get to know each other,” she said.
“Right,” Catalina said.
Slater’s eyes heated. “Right. Plenty of time.”
CHAPTER 42
Las Vegas, one week later …
You know,” Slater said, “this isn’t bad for a couple of risk-averse people. It doesn’t get much more spontaneous than a midnight wedding in Las Vegas.”
Catalina stirred, rolled off Slater and fell onto her back. She opened her eyes and regarded the mirrored ceiling overhead. The image of the two of them cuddled close together, naked in a wildly rumpled bed, made her smile.
“Just call us Mr. and Ms. Spontaneous,” she said.
Slater folded one arm behind his head and studied the reflection. “You do realize a five-minute ceremony with Elvis officiating is not going to satisfy our families. I predict a lavish reception, lots of useless gifts and a night of dancing under the stars on the roof garden of my uncle’s penthouse in our near future.”
“That sounds nice. Olivia can take me shopping for a sexy gown and some sparkly high heels.”
“I thought you looked terrific in your black jeans and that black trench coat tonight.”
“Thank you.” She turned on her side and drew her fingertips across Slater’s chest. “You looked pretty fabulous yourself, in your cargo pants and that T-shirt and leather jacket.”
“We are apparently a couple of fashion icons. Who knew?” Several hours ago they had been sitting in a coffeehouse in Seattle talking about their future when Slater had looked at her and said, “Can you think of one good reason why we should wait?” She had contemplated the question for about two seconds before she came up with her response: “Nope.”
Slater had snagged three seats—economy class because there were no first-class seats available—on a flight to Las Vegas. Olivia had taken the third seat. “You’ll need a witness,” she explained.
The next thing Catalina knew she was marrying Slater in a wonderfully tacky wedding chapel on the Strip. In addition to Olivia, Victor and Lucas had shown up to act as witnesses and serve as the groom’s best men. After the event, Slater’s uncles had taken Olivia on a tour of the town’s hottest nightclubs. Catalina and Slater had slipped away to an over-the-top honeymoon suite at one of the glitziest hotels on the Strip. The room had been a wedding gift from Victor and Lucas.