Page 135 of Princess Avenged

Zuben steps back. Clearly I’ve found another button to press. His cheeks darken and his fingers pick at the stitching of the leather cover on his tablet. He’s rattled. And I don’t feel as good about that as I usually do.

I turn to Diederik. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. What can I do for you, Ricky? Why go to such lengths for a visit? Are you looking for a little action?” Grabbing my package, I thrust.

Diederik rolls his eyes. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

“Sorry, Ricky. But I’m going to have to say no to that. I’m a top. Hard limit.” I grin. Laughter always greases the wheels.

But Diederik frowns, clearly reaching his hard limit with this conversation. “Ryker Stone, you’ve been detained on suspicion of piracy.”

“Piracy?” I hold up my hand toward him. “Okay, okay. Let me stop you right there. That’s all in my past. I haven’t been a pirate for two hundred and fifty years.”

“But you do admit to acts of piracy at one time.” Zuben steps forward, his striking, brown eyes focused hard on me.

Leaning back in the chair, I shrug. “Sure.” I wink. “Do pirates turn you on, Ruben?”

“Enough!” Diederik interrupts. “This isn’t a joke Ryker.”

I cock my head to the side. “Really? Because you two are cracking me up. Have we time travelled to the eighteenth century? Shit. I haven’t even been on a ship—pirate or otherwise—for at least fifty years.”

“No.” I raise my index finger to my lips in mock dismay. “You crack detectives have caught me in a lie. I took a booze cruise the last time I visited New Orleans. Best I recall, I got shit-faced on the blood of my fellow partiers. Think that was in the mid-eighties… The nineteen eighties if you want to get technical.”

“Piracy takes many forms.” The tall Egyptian lifts his tablet, opens the cover and starts swiping the screen. “What do you know about a thousand gold bars that vanished from a container at the Port of Philadelphia in 2008?”

“That was a bad year for a lot of people in finance,” I say. “I’m sorry to hear you lost some of your gold trinkets during the recession.” I pout at him and keep my tone light, but my neck muscles tighten.

I don’t remember the exact number, but I did manage to shift the ownership of a whole lot of gold bars in 2008. I had no idea any were DEFTA’s. Not that it would have made any difference. Once a pirate, always a pirate.

“And in 1993,” Zuben continues, “five million US dollars worth of bearer bonds disappeared in the Caymans, while they were being transferred by armored truck from our vault—at night.”

“Fascinating.” I nod in interest. “Sounds like you need to be more careful about where you leave your toys.” I grin. I am particularly proud of how I pulled off that heist in the Caymans. I had to get past four vampires and at least a dozen human guards to pull it off.

“Thing is,” Diederik’s eyes narrow, “Zuben’s team discovered that you cashed that same dollar value of bearer bonds in Panama two days after ours vanished.”

“Did I?” I shrug. “I don’t think I’ve been in Panama since the canal was built.”

“Yes, you have.” Zuben swipes and pokes his tablet several times, and then turns it toward me. “This account in the National Bank of Panama is in your name.” His expression is smug.

I hate smug—unless of course it’s coming from me.

“It’s possible that I have a bank account or two in Panama.” I flip my hand. “I have financial interests worldwide. Can’t keep track. Hey, Ruben!” I exclaim as if I’ve just had a brilliant idea. “I should hire someone like you to help me keep track.” I lean toward Zuben. “Are you looking for a change? You interested in a position—under me?”

Zuben’s eyes narrow.

Diederik steps forward. “Did you, or did you not cash bearer bonds in the amount of five million dollars in Panama on December 16, 1993.”

“Doubt it. I hate the tropics.” I cross one leg over the other. “Too much sunlight, even in winter. Then again…” I draw a long breath and sigh. “Some days, don’t you just yearn for daylight?”

“All the time,” Zuben says under his breath, and I grin to myself, finding another button to press.

“Speaking of sunlight.” I stand and stretch. “If that’s all, chaps, I’d like to get home before that bugger of a burning star shows its face.”

“It is currently 6:30 pm,” Zuben says.

“No shit?” I’ve lost a whole day, but at least I know that once I talk my way out of this room, I can leave the building. “How long have I been down here?”

“Seventeen hours, more or less,” Diederik says. “Seems we overdid it on the silver.”

“No shit.” I frown. Unconscious and full of silver so long, no wonder I’m famished, not to mention groggy, and now that I’m standing, the room is swaying as if I’ve got sea legs. “Great talk guys, but no need to go to so much trouble next time you want to chat.”

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