“You’d do better hiring a private investigator.” He drew his eyebrows together, tried not to let the urge to squirm under her very direct stare show. Damn. Give him vapid groupies and a clueless entourage and he had no problem staring them down. This woman, it was like she could see straight through him and know how much he didn’t want to cause a scene at this very moment. There was nothing good he could do for her.
“A private investigator doesn’t have the international resources I think your company has. And I asked—you’re the best. Henderson only hires the A players for his events and he likes to brag about the mercenaries he has on his payroll. He wouldn’t risk bragging about you if you weren’t the real thing. If you’re not the right person to talk to, maybe you have someone else in your organization? Someone I can present more details to so they’ll understand?” If she’d whined at him, it’d be easier to tell her to get lost. Even tears.
Great, man. You’d rather make her cry than help her.
Damn straight.
But she was being reasonable and calm, businesslike without giving up any of the urgency she’d had from the moment she’d approached him. The lady definitely had experience negotiating. And their organization didn’t. The sort of strategy and the tactical strikes they made were a lot more final than any verbal agreement. People didn’t hire private military contractors like the Centurions for delicate jobs like this, not when the package was likely to be so fragile.
The Centurion Corporation took contracts internationally for more...potentially volatile situations. Their jobs had more to do with combat force augmentation, local populace liaison, community patrolling and “black bag” jobs that wouldn’t be explained or reported to the US citizens. There were other private organizations with divisions to handle situations like this woman’s missing sister. But he didn’t know of any with a likely price tag any normal individual would be able to afford.
“I’m gonna be honest, because you seem like a nice person and you’re still giving me no other choice.” He leaned forward, looming over her so his whispered words could be understood despite the blaring music around them but no one else would hear. “Save your money. Don’t give it to anyone who promises to get your sister back alive. Doesn’t matter how long they listen or what they promise you. If she’s out of the country, it’s going to take anyone way too long to get her back in one piece. Put it towards her memorial.”
Harsh. No one wanted to tell a person their loved one was probably already dead, and almost certainly would be before anyone could find them. But feeding her false hope wouldn’t do her any favors. And he really wanted her to walk away.
She’d stood absolutely still as he’d spoken. Hadn’t given any ground or shrunk away from him. As he straightened, he cast his gaze around the room in a safety check before looking back down at her.
Her face was frozen, but it was her eyes again. Sheer and utter devastation, shattered hope and some emotion bordering on hate welled up with her tears. Then dark lashes came down, releasing him from the shock of it, and when she opened her eyes again there was nothing but cold calm. “I won’t thank you for your advice, but I do for your honesty. Xiè xie.”
Thank you. In Chinese. Mandarin, he thought.
He didn’t know Mandarin or Cantonese but he knew the words for please and thank you in a lot of languages. There were a lot of situations where someone was saying those words to him or his people. He made it a practice to try to reciprocate when appropriate when out in other parts of the world. Sometimes with genuine sincerity, sometimes with sarcasm as they tried to kill each other.
He’d stop thinking along those lines for the time being.
She turned and walked away, head up and shoulders straight. Her hips rolled slightly as she strode with purpose in three-inch high heels—as if she had someplace to be and he hadn’t broken her hope to pieces. And wow but the silhouette of her very tight behind in the little pencil skirt she wore did awful things to his libido. If he wasn’t already going to hell in a handbasket, he definitely would be now.
“Trouble?” Marc’s voice murmured in his earbud.
Only if he ever saw her again. He lifted his wrist and spoke into the tiny microphone attached to his shirt cuff. “No.”
“Looked pretty tense from where I’m standing.” Of course Marc’d seen the exchange. They were positioned around the perimeter of the event. Each of them could survey the crowd and had direct line of sight on at least two of the others on their team.
“Keep eyes on her in case she does something crazy.” His first priority was the safety of his client, and wouldn’t it just suck if the woman went ballistic because he’d turned her down?
“Roger that.”
*
Qīng wā cào de liú máng.
That was a complete and total fail. Yet again, Maylin blinked back tears and struggled to maintain her composure. The party was over now and she’d only need to finish overseeing her team’s cleanup of the catering equipment. Then she could bury herself in a tray of egg tarts and try to figure out what her possible alternatives were at this point.