Page 48 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

I bump back against my seat. “That’s not what we agreed.”

“You should learn to negotiate terms before surrendering.”

“You had your chance. You missed it.Yourloss.”

“I am certain it would be my loss if I had, indeed, missed my chance. It will be at a time of my choosing.”

“How is it you’re still dominating when you’re saying ‘please?’ Do you practice at night in front of your mirror, quirking your eyebrow and giving it your best sardonic expression? Or do you have one of the men role-play?”

Several of his crew laugh. “She has you there, boss,” an unfamiliar voice chuckles.

Archan changes the subject. “How is your leg?” he asks, faking concern.

“Fine. Duncan patched it up.” He’d used magic to bind my skin together and reduce the pain in my ribs and throat. “Why were you following me?”

He sips his coffee. “I wasn’t.” I count to three in my head—that’s meant to help, right? It’s not working. I continue, reaching twelve before Archan breaks into my Zen counting. “My men were following you.”

Ah, we’re playing word games. I’m a master at this. “For what purpose?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows he’s about to give me an answer that’ll piss me off; of course, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Many purposes.”

I tip my head back to look at the ceiling. He follows my gaze. “What are you doing?”

I continue to stare upward. “I’m pleading with God for the patience to deal with you. It’s taking him some time to get back to me, given the enormity of the task.” He laughs, a full belly laugh, and I smile at him. I can’t help it—the sound is infectious, and my temper cools.

Sighing deeply, I tap my finger on the table. “This is getting us nowhere. Either you’re honest with me, or we end this meeting none the wiser about each other’s goals.” He tilts his head, a minuscule movement.

When he speaks, he surprises me. “We each get five questions the other has to answer honestly—no avoidance or twisting of the questions, either.” He arches an eyebrow.

“Fine, I’ll go first.” I consider the wording of my question. “Did you, your men, or your company have Mary Conway killed?”

“No.” His answer is instant, no hesitation. Truth—good start.

“What about the other six missing people?”

Again, his answer is honest. “No.” But he doesn’t query that there are more missing people.

“Did you have anything to do with the disappearances of the six people?” He hesitates; my hand freezes as I’m about to sip my coffee, my lips perched on the edge of the cup.

“Yes.”

Setting my coffee on the table, I stare at him. When he doesn’t elaborate, I grab my leather jacket from the back of the booth and stand.

Aaden, Zee, and Duncan rise out of their seats. Archan grabs my hand. Warmth surrounds it, but it doesn’t spread.

I look down at him. “I can’t play any more games. Someone was murdered.”

“Sit. I’ll tell you about the disappearances.” I give a small nod of my head to my guys and return to my seat.

“The others are safe—they are under my protection. They can leave when they want, but they stay because they know the danger they are in.”

“Do you have proof?”

Archan looks to Nathan, who pulls out a tablet. Letting go of my hand, Archan taps his fingers on it a few times and turns it toward me. It’s a live video feed of a combined living/kitchen area. People are eating at the breakfast bar, two are cooking, and some are watching TV. The girl on the end of the sofa reading a book has her legs over the guy next to her, and he’s stroking her foot.

“They are in a hidden location. I won’t tell you where, so don’t ask.” I glance at him, sensing no deception.

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