If someone had asked her at breakfast what her day was going to be like, her answer would have been far different from how it had turned out so far. She contemplated Luis thoughtfully while her lips burned from that smoldering kiss. He had pulled away before she could overcome the shock of it, and the shock wasn’t just that he had kissed her. Her own forceful reaction sent her reeling inwardly.
What to do. She could pack up her car and leave. She didn’t have to have answers. Her unit hardly ever got a big-picture explanation when they were sent on assignment. Information had always been on a need-to-know basis.
Car doors slammed outside, and the house lights darkened. One final engine started, a vehicle pulled out of the driveway, and Jackson was well on his way.
She could leave now. Jackson would be fine after a visit in Fresno, and Luis was remarkably better. He was actually on his feet again.
On his bare feet. The material from the aged sweatpants strained over every single muscle and bulge from his waist downward, and the thick biceps in his arms bunched as he crossed his arms over a wide, bare chest. He had retreated until he leaned back against the counter, watching her intently.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t leave now,” she said.
He said immediately, “Because I need you.”
Hell, she knew that. He had no weapon, and she wasn’t giving him hers. Damn it, the man wasn’t even decently dressed and it had to be thirty degrees outside. But it wasn’t what he said. It was how he said it, while he watched her like a hungry wolf.
“Fine,” she snapped. “But if you don’t tell me what’s going on with that mine in the next five minutes, I’ll shoot you myself.”
A white grin slashed across his handsome face. It disappeared almost at once.
“The Nirvana Silver Mining Company has been in operation for almost a hundred and sixty years,” he said. “It’s been owned by the Bradshaw family that entire time. I won’t bore you with how complicated and time-consuming it can be to obtain and maintain mining permits. What’s relevant is, an area has got to be surveyed before a mine can go into production. It’s important to establish legal boundaries of ownership, especially when you’re talking about gems and precious metals. Those boundaries never include Other lands, so crossover passages have to be mapped and the entrances clearly defined.”
She frowned. “Okay. All of that makes sense. I know federal law states that Other lands can’t be owned by inhabitants on this side. That property belongs to whoever—or whatever—may reside on the other side.”
“Yes,” said Luis. “And if the Other land is uninhabited, then the land belongs to nobody.”
“I’m with you so far,” she said.
“The Office of the Elder tribunal holds records of every known crossover passage in the US. It also holds the original surveyor maps for active and inactive mines. There’s no crossover passageway on any of the original surveyor maps for the Nirvana Silver Mining Company,” he said. “But they have one now.”
She sat back in her seat. “How did that happen? Was the original surveyor bribed?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“And you were supposed to come to investigate that? That’s no minor assignment.”
He shook his head. “No, sensing the crossover passage was a surprise. I was actually supposed to conduct a cursory inspection of the mining operation, since nobody expected me to find anything. The mine inspection is part of a larger investigation. There’s been an influx of magic-sensitive silver on the black market in the US, and reports of an increase overseas as well. The tribunal is working as part of an international effort to track down the source.”
Silver had an affinity for holding magic spells and it could be used as a repository for Power. Silver from an Other land was especially magic-sensitive and highly prized. Magic-sensitive silver was more valuable than gold. “And you weren’t expecting to find anything because of the original surveyor reports,” she said.
“Exactly,” he said. He looked wry as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I was going to tour the company’s office, have a quick look through their financials for the last couple of years, eat some steaks and expense it, and watch some HBO.”
She watched the thick, dark wavy hair fall back into his eyes and felt a pulse of arousal. Disconcerted, she shifted in her seat. “What happened?”
“Scott Bradshaw,” he said. His sensual mouth twisted. “The company property is fenced off, of course. The manager’s office is located right by the entrance, far enough away from the mine operation that I didn’t sense any crossover magic from there. But Bradshaw stalled. First, he wouldn’t let me on the property, and then he balked at letting me see the financials. He acted just squirrelly enough that after my official inspection, I decided to camp a night or two and keep an eye on the property.”