Countdown - Iris Johansen [41]
“She can take care of herself.” Trevor’s lips twisted. “Or are you saying she’s still too young to know what she wants? That she’d be better off with some idealistic kid like Mario?”
“I didn’t say that.” He stood up. “But I’ve seen you when you’re on the attack. Once you make up your mind you don’t stop. You have years and years of experience over Jane, and that could—”
“I’m thirty-four,” he said through his teeth. “I’m not Methuselah.”
Bartlett chuckled. “I thought that would prick you. I’ll leave now.”
“Bastard.”
“You deserved it for making an ass of yourself at dinner. I enjoy my meals, and anything that interferes with my digestion is in danger of annihilation.” He headed for the door. “Remember that when you’re tempted to roast any other younger men with your bad temper.”
He closed the door behind him before Trevor could answer.
Puckish son of a bitch. If he didn’t like him so much, he’d throw him off the parapets of this damn castle. He might anyway if Bartlett kept on jabbing at him. His temperament was obviously not at all stable at present or he wouldn’t have handled Mario that stupidly. Bartlett was right, it was clumsy, and he prided himself on his deftness.
And he’d been equally clumsy with Jane in the conversation afterward. He should have kept his distance, let her become accustomed to him again.
Hell, no. She didn’t need to become accustomed to him. It was as if they’d never been apart. And he couldn’t act any other way when he was with her. He was no Bartlett, and he wouldn’t—
His phone rang. Venable.
“I haven’t got it yet,” he said before Venable could speak. “Maybe in the next few days. Mario’s working on another Cira scroll.”
“And what if that one doesn’t pan out either?” Venable’s voice was charged with tension. “We have to move.”
“We will. But if we can find out anything else, then we’ll go that route. We have time.”
“Not much. I’m tempted to come in there and take over those scrolls and—”
“You do that and you’ll get ashes.”
“You wouldn’t do that. Those scrolls are priceless.”
“To you. Once I’ve read them they’re nothing to me. I’m such a philistine.”
Venable started to curse.
“I believe I’m going to hang up. I’ve taken enough abuse for one evening. I’ll call you when I have something concrete.”
“No, wait. We intercepted a call tonight from the MacGuire woman. She phoned Eve Duncan.”
“So?”
“She told her about Grozak, about MacDuff’s Run, everything.”
“That’s not unexpected. They’re very close.”
“You shouldn’t have brought her there.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Venable.”
He pressed the disconnect. In two minutes Venable would call back apologizing and telling him it was desperation that had sent him over the edge.
Screw him. Venable wasn’t a bad guy but he was beginning to get on Trevor’s nerves. He was a frightened man and he was scared Trevor was going to blunder.
Blundering seemed to be the name of the game tonight, Trevor thought ruefully. Well, he was tired of analyzing everything he did or said. He’d lived by instinct most of his life and that’s the way he’d handle this situation.
He went to the window. The moon was bright tonight and he could see the stark cliffs and the sea beyond. How many times had Angus MacDuff stood here, looking out, and thought about the next voyage, the next raid, the next game?
The game.
He turned and moved toward the door. He needed to get his head straight and his priorities in order, and he knew where to go to do that.
The Run.
Jane took a long shower before slipping on one of Bartlett’s oversize flannel shirts and heading for that huge bed.
Go to sleep. Forget about Trevor and that scene downstairs. He was the grand manipulator, and who knew what he’d intended by telling her he wanted to sleep with her. Maybe he really was anxious to have her, or maybe he was just using his knowledge of her own desires to push her