States, on probation, he’d continued to send her questions, to publicly note her help in reports, and to praise her work to all and sundry. It was as if he wanted to turn the screws. He said it was to help her remember who she’d been, all the good she’d done.
Sighing, she hit PRINT. She needed to see it in hard copy sometimes, to make sense of it.
The second one was from him as well. It was titled More Greek. It contained one phrase only, which, in this case, was actually in Greek.
The third e-mail was from Pretzky. She’d signed off and sent the report.
The fourth was from Jen.
“Damn it, Jen,” she hissed, printing and deleting the e-mail. “Who has a cattle-call date with millionaires at four-thirty on a frickin’ Wednesday?” She then backtracked through the coded system, which she’d long ago deciphered, and deleted the e-mail off the delivery server. Personal e-mails were frowned upon even in Cold Cases. She wasn’t rocking the boat over another of Jen’s goofy plans to get her out of the house.
Obviously Jen was taking personal time off to try out the millionaire dating pool. Pulling out her phone, Ana sent her a text.
Can’t go. Translations to do. Calls to make. No time for cattle calls.
It would make Jen laugh, at least. It wouldn’t deter her, but nothing did. Within days she’d be after Ana again to try something else in the way of dating or getting out, or taking a class or something. Ana’s back still hurt from the yoga experiment.
She slipped the Italian work into her briefcase. She’d look at that tonight.
Her phone rang, and this time, she checked the incoming number. Not Jen. Hmmm.
“Agent Burton,” she answered. “To whom am I speaking?”
“Agent Burton, this is Gates Bromley, special assistant to Mr. Davros Gianikopolis.” The man’s rich, luscious voice filled her ear. “You had called regarding a follow-up on an old case.”
She was so mesmerized by the voice, it took Ana a heartbeat to make sense of the words. “Yes. I’d like to make an appointment with Mr. Gianikopolis to discuss his losses in the incident. I’m following up on some new leads.”
“I’ll be happy to meet with you, get the information, and assess if there’s any new data we can add.” Holy cow, the man’s voice was pure, liquid sex.
For a second, all she could think about was the image of liquid sex. Jeeez, she had to get out more. Jen was right, and she hated to admit it. In the next second, she processed what he’d said and bristled at the high-handed phrasing. Assess the data, my ass. Fabulous voice or not, this guy needed a set-down.
“Mr. Gianikopolis is the insured.” She kept her voice brisk, impersonal. “I’ll need to speak with him. You are welcome to be present, Mr. Bromley.” She put all the I Am An Agent Of The Law insistence she could in her voice. “Which day this week is he available?”
There was a momentary pause, and when Gates Bromley replied, he sounded amused. “Mr. Gianikopolis is in town, but unavailable for the next several days.”
“Fine. Tuesday then?” she pushed.
“Ten a.m. at his estate” was the still amused but clipped reply. He rattled off the address.
“I’ll be there. Thank you,” she added, remembering her manners. She’d gotten her way—didn’t hurt to sugar things up. “I won’t take much of his time.”
“I’ll see to that, Agent. Good day.”
Ana clicked off. “I’ll see to that? I’ll see to that? What a snotty thing to say,” she accused the now-humming phone. “You can bite my ass, Mister Gates Bromley.”
“Oh, man, and here I was hoping to do that,” a male voice responded over the cubicle walls and Jim Davis leaned on the opening to her cubicle. Ana cursed under her breath. Just what she needed. The only other person in the San Francisco office who would speak to her was Davis, and he was a slimeball.
“Shut up, Jim,” Pearson called. “And get over here. I need that file.” Davis blew Ana a smarmy kiss and obeyed. Pearson, the one other female agent besides Pretzky, had filed a complaint against Davis. Though not particularly friendly, Pearson had warned her about him.
“Thanks, Pearson,” she muttered as Davis disappeared. She noted the appointment with Mr. Gianikopolis on her PDA, on her paper calendar, and in the file. Checking Gianikopolis off the list, she picked up the phone for the next call.
It was all downhill from there, which made for a bitch of a