FADE TO BLACK, Book One: The Weir Chronicles

Chapter Six

"Rayne Bevan? It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Patrick Langtree, Ian's manager.

At the mention of her name Ian took a step back, and his hand fell to his side. He peered at the bandage on her forehead.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Mr. Langtree. I appreciate the rare opportunity," she said as Patrick guided her into the house.

"I'll take your cell phone," Patrick said.

"I didn't bring it." She opened her purse and tilted it toward him. "You're welcome to search me."

Patrick smiled. "I'm sure that's not necessary. I trust Lionel, and he obviously trusts you."

Ian caught the jump in her heartbeat. "I'm Ian Black," he mumbled while closing the door. "Sorry about the long drive." He stood still with his hand on the door handle. How well did Patrick know his former professor?

"Ian, why don't I get us started," Patrick said.

"I've got this," Ian said a little too gruff. "Find the girls and see about some refreshments."

Patrick didn't budge. "You want the girls?"

"Absolutely," Ian said. He led the way into a large room. "We'll meet in here." She followed a few paces behind him.

Flames danced in the stone fireplace and it spit at them in greeting. Warmth filled the massive room but failed to penetrate Ian's tight fists. Curiosity wrestled with his instinct to turn her around and show her the door.

"Take a seat. We'll start when the girls get here." Ian gestured to the sofa, placing her back to the foyer.

He plopped down in a low-backed, overstuffed chair and threw his leg over the side. Rayne sank deep into the plush couch. She rubbed her hands together and glanced about the room. Her attempts to appear relaxed couldn't mask the bulging pulse at her neck. The muted, low roar of distant surf made it difficult to hear her heartbeat.

"Mr. Black . . ."

"Ian."

"Rayne," she offered. "I didn't expect to find so many tress."

"The estate is surrounded by national park."

"How long have you lived here?"

"Almost ten years." Ian didn't break his steady gaze on her. "The property has been in my . . ." he hesitated, "family for many decades."

Chimes from the grandfather clock rang out and joined the drumming at his temples. Rayne grabbed a notepad and portable tape recorder from her satchel. He noticed a tremor in her hand.

Convinced this was the same makeup-caked face from the alley, Ian brought his leg around to the floor and leaned forward. "What year are you?" he asked.

His sudden relaxation caught her off guard and she jerked. "Senior, about to graduate."

"This exclusive will look good on a resume." He gave her a grin that wasn't quite a smirk. Rayne tossed him a faint smile. "I haven't seen one of these in years." He picked up the tape recorder and studied it. "Do you intend to record the entire interview?" he said.

"Is that a problem?"

Ian didn't respond and held it for a moment longer, then set it down on the coffee table. "I'll let Patrick decide."

She picked it up. "Does Patrick make all of your decisions for you?"

He retreated deep into the chair. "Only in business matters." His core ignited at the same time a gust of wind rattled the towering windows. Ian glanced down and pressed his fist against his chest until the lingering heat subsided. When he lifted his face, Rayne was watching him with a keen interest.