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“Of course not. Just two colleagues sharing a meal.”
She sat at the table. “We’re not colleagues.”
“I’m helping you with your case.” I sat and waved a hand. “Oysters Rockefeller to start, and Shrimp Creole with rice.”
She looked up, her gaze narrowing. “How do you know my favorite foods?”
“Like I’ve told you, I have my sources.”
She picked up one of the oysters and a fork. She ate it, then closed her eyes. “They’re so fresh.”
I’d had them flown in today just for her. This woman was getting to me. Burrowing under my skin, and I wasn’t entirely sure I liked it.
But I wasn’t a coward. I wanted to ride this out and see where it took us.
Because you want her as yours.
I ignored that dark voice inside and reached out to pour the white wine.
“I’m only off the clock for lunch,” she said.
“One small glass.”
She nodded. “So? You have information for me?”
I nodded. “I asked around about Platinum Export.”
“And?”
“It’s owned by Cade Bernard.”
She gasped. “We haven’t had any luck finding out who owns it.”
I sipped my wine. “I guess you weren’t asking the right people.” The intel had come from a contact of Reath’s who avoided the law.
“Who’s Bernard?”
“On the surface, he’s a legitimate importer-exporter.”
She sat back in her chair. “But underneath, he’s a smuggler.”
I nodded. “Word is, Bernard moves whatever needs moving, for the right price. Lately, he’s made a lot of trips to Geneva.”
That made her stiffen. “To the Geneva Freeport.”
“Could be.”
A freeport was a tax-free zone where goods could be stored without being subject to that country’s customs duties. They were supposed to be for goods in transit, but the Geneva Freeport had become well-known for long-term storage of art belonging to the superrich. It was also suspected to be used for the trade of looted antiquities, and for money laundering.
She eyed me. “Do you keep anything in the Geneva Freeport?”
I felt a small pinch that she’d asked. “No.”
“Sorry.” She reached across the table and touched my hand.
“There’s more.”
She nodded.
