"This is an impressive place," she breathed. "I didn't realize he had so much money."
"You wouldn't believe his account balances if I showed you the statement," Rachol mumbled, heading to a desk at the rear of the m ain room . "Look, I have some things to do. Wander about, or whatever."
Kiara rubbed her arms, her eyes scanning the sparse, but luxurious furnishings. The main room contained two cream couches, a low table, the expensive wood desk where Rachol worked and not much else.
The room she most wanted to see was one she was certain Rachol wouldn't like, or show to her— the bedroom. People usually kept the most telling item s about themselves in their bedrooms.
Maybe later.
"Are there any files or books to read?" she asked.
"Yeah, check the closet behind me."
She opened the closet and froze. She gave a low whistle at the quantity and variety of books concealed inside. "Does he read all these languages?"
"And more," Rachol commented absently. "He graduated top of his class at Pontari Academy with a degree in Translation and Interpretations."
Adequately impressed, she pulled down one of the Gourish volumes of poetry.
"Rachol?"
She waited until he looked up at her. "Can I ask a personal question?"
"About me or Kip?"
She clutched the book to her for courage. "Well, both of you really."
He looked back at the computer screen for several seconds and chewed his bottom lip.
"Let's hear it, then I'll decide."
Kiara steadied herself against the couch, mentally bolstering herself to hear what his reply might be. "What was so horrible with your pasts that both of you are so closed to other people?"
Rachol took a deep breath before swiveling his chair around to face her. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes carefully averted. "In my case, my mother abandoned me and my sister to our father when I was three. My father was Bynan Verlaine, the infamous spy/thief."
She gripped the book, noting the hatred in Rachol's voice as he spoke about his father.
She knew the story behind the Bynan Verlaine only too well. His career and political trial had been one of the most publicized events in her lifetime.
"He was executed when I was ten."
"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her thumb down the ridged, leather spine of the book.
He shrugged. "Don't be, I wasn't."
She watched him for a moment, his brown eyes, locked onto her face, betrayed no hint of what he was feeling. "And your sister?"
His gaze hardened. "She killed herself six months before my father was caught and tried."
Kiara closed her eyes, a wave of pain washing over her. "So you had no one."
He nodded, his face as stoic as Nykyrian's. "Grew up on the street with a cardboard box for a house."
She digested the news slowly, realizing just how lucky she had been. "So how'd you meet Nykyrian?"
Rachol laughed aloud and unfolded his arms. "I tried to pick his pocket."
An am used smile twitched Kiara's lips. "You didn't?"
Rachol scratched his ear, a wide sm ile splitting his face. "Oh yeah. I couldn't believe it when he bought me dinner instead of beating the hell out of me."
Warm th flooded her at the thought of Nykyrian's kindness. "You've known him ever since?"
"In a manner of speaking. I don't think anyone really knows him at all."
A loud crackling engine sounded outside in the bay. Kiara bit her bottom lip, realizing Nykyrian had returned. She looked down at her arm where some blood had dried.
Flicking it off, she was no longer sure what she felt about Nykyrian, or herself.
The door opened. Nykyrian paused in the doorway, his eyes locked on hers. He slid the backpack off his shoulder, dropping it on the floor along with his helmet. The lorinas circled around him and rubbed against his legs. He patted them, staring at her all the while. She didn't know how to break the tense silence. Luckily, Rachol did it for her.
"Where've you been?"
Nykyrian broke eye contact and walked past her to rest beside the desk. He leaned on one arm and studied the screen. "Information gathering," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the screen. Rachol glanced up at her. "Did you find anything interesting?"
Nykyrian pressed a couple of keys. "Arturo's address," he said and straightened.
Rachol shifted in his chair. "Is that it?" he asked pointing to the screen.
"Yes."
Rachol smiled at Kiara. "Did you beat the hell out of him?"
Nykyrian looked at her sheepishly. Guilt consumed Kiara as she realized why he hesitated.
"No," he said at last. "Darling made me promise I wouldn't do anything. But I didn't say you or Hauk wouldn't."
Rachol laughed. "Thanks for the bait. I never could resist bullying a bully."
Nykyrian moved to stand on the other side of the couch, staring at her. There was so much Kiara wanted to say to him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it in front of Rachol. She ached to apologize for her stupidity and her words to Nykyrian after he had saved her worthless life.