Everlasting - Iris Johansen [1]
“You're not with Mallory Thane this evening. Does that mean your liaison is over?”
“I have no liaisons.”
“It was reported that she stayed the weekend with you in Acapulco.”
“I have no liaisons.”
Blunt, impassive, soft-spoken.
“Is it true that the AirFlow merger is being fought by the unions?”
“You'll have to ask them.”
“Are you half or quarter Apache, Mr. Damon?”
“Half. My grandfather was shaman of his tribe.”
“You're also illegitimate. Right?”
That question obviously struck a nerve. Damon's gaze fastened on the reporter who'd asked the question. The man took a hasty step backward. “Yes, I'm both a bastard and a half breed,” he said softly. “Considering what I've made of myself, I'd say that speaks well for being both. And just what have you made of your life to date, Mr…” He looked at the man's press badge. “Carter?”
The reporter didn't answer. He bent his head hastily over his notebook. Kira didn't blame him for avoiding Damon's challenging stare. She wasn't sure she would have had the courage to look Damon in the eye at that moment. How unnerving to experience the lethal swiftness with which he could change from neutrality to attack.
Another reporter spoke up. “You've been fighting for better education and employment opportunities for Indians for the last twelve years. Though I'm sure it's very laudable, don't you believe that a lot of what the American Indian experiences today is due to resentment of his savagery in the past?”
“No,” Damon responded quietly. “I think his present situation is due to the fact that he wasn't savage enough.”
But he would have been savage enough to hold what was his, Kira thought. She shivered. Oh lord, what had Marna gotten her into?
A small, graying man with a wide smile on his plump face had gotten out of the front seat of the Rolls. He was also dressed in a tuxedo, and he spoke as he stepped between Damon and the reporters. “Mr. Damon will give you a statement about his involvement with the Indian Heritage Center during the intermission. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse him now. It's time for him to go to his box.”
He plowed ahead, running interference for Damon with the media, fending questions as fast as they were fired. As they entered the lobby the crowd closed around them, hiding Damon from Kira's view.
She drew a deep breath and tried to relax the muscles of her shoulders. Until Damon had vanished from sight, she hadn't realized how tense she'd become while observing him. Maybe it would have been better “to beard the lion in his den” without any prior knowledge of him. At least she wouldn't have been nervous. Heavens, how silly she was being. She'd been dealing with powerful people since she was a child, and shouldn't be intimidated at all by Zack Damon. But then, she had never been a supplicant before. Begging for help for the first time was bound to put butterflies in anyone's stomach, she reassured herself.
In a swift gesture of bravado, she tossed the hood of her cloak back. A mass of riotous auburn curls tumbled over her shoulders. She stepped quickly out of the alley and walked briskly down the street to where her taxi was waiting. The time for hiding in the shadows was over. It was time for her to act with her usual forthrightness and to accomplish her task.
Perry Bentley firmly closed the door of the box, shutting the reporters out. His genial smile vanishing, he turned to his employer and spoke rapidly. “Jansen called on the car phone just after you got out. Princess Rubinoff was in the crowd in front of this auditorium.”
Damon's gaze flew to Bentley's face.
“Here?” “At the mouth of the alley. She was wearing a black velvet cloak, obviously trying to go unrecognized.”
“You're sure?”
“Jansen followed her from her hotel. He couldn't be more sure.”
Zack turned away to hide his expression from Perry, whose eyes revealed