“As a matter of fact,” Gaki observed quietly, “I believe we have much more in common than you realize.” He glanced around, rested his large hand on Archer’s shoulder, and said in carrying tones, “I assure you, I’ll more than match any offer you receive for the clock.”

“I’m not going to sell my clock.” Archer found he was being steered through the crowd, whether he willed it or not. He tried to regain some control of the situation. “As a matter of fact, I was interested in an item you purchased from Christie’s recently.”

“You must mean the water beads. Quite a find, I agree. And in marvelous condition. Yes, I imagine you would be interested in those. What a small world it is.”

“This one, certainly,” Archer said.

“And getting smaller all the time.”

They had stopped walking next to a glossy table in the center of the lobby. A giant blue basket with a flower arrangement roughly the size of a small garden allotment sat on the table. They were safely out of earshot of anyone but the bodyguard, who stood a few feet away.

“I’m not sure I understand you,” Archer said.

“I believe I belong to an organization that you were once a member of.”

Archer’s heart stopped. He recovered and asked coolly, “The International Council of Museums?”

“No. Let’s not waste time fencing. I belong to the Society for the Rescue and Restoration of Indigenous Magic.”

It seemed to take a long time to find the words. “The society no longer exists.”

Gaki’s eyes kindled with a fanatical light. “But it does—and we’re even stronger than before.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Archer said vaguely. “I like to see people getting involved.”

“You’re very glib about something that I believe once meant a great deal to you.”

Archer kept his voice low. “Like many, I remain sympathetic to the goals of SRRIM, but I couldn’t condone the tactics being used at the time I left.”

“Fight fire with fire.”

“That can end creating a bigger fire.”

“Let it. Sometimes it takes razing the old to the ground for the new to spring forth.”

Archer stared at Gaki’s sharp, ageless features. “What are you getting at? What do you want?”

“We need your help.”

“What does that mean?” Something clicked in Archer’s brain. “Let me guess. The Stone of Fal. I don’t have it and I don’t know where it is.”

“But you could use your position at curator of MoSSA to find it.”

“No.”

Gaki said good naturedly, “Hear me out.”

“I don’t want to hear you out. I’ve already heard too much. This conversation alone could get us arrested.”

Gaki ignored that. “If you do this one little thing for us, the beads are yours.”

Across the room, Archer could see the woman in purple he had spoken to earlier. She was laughing, but the sound of her laughter, bouncing off the marble ceiling and floor, sounded disembodied and out of time.

“We’re not asking you to place yourself in any danger. Just do this one little task. Help us recover the stone. That’s all.” Gaki was still smiling. “Do it and the beads are yours again. Forever safe from the threat of state-sanctioned neutralization. Think about it.”

 “I can’t do that. I’ll pay you for the beads. I’ll pay you anything you like. Anything I can.”

“The price of the beads is your help.”

Speaking the words was physically painful, but what choice did Archer have? “That price is beyond my means.”

Gaki made a dismissive sound. “Nonsense. For old times’ sake. One last job for your old comrades?”

Archer shook his head.

Gaki seemed to contemplate him for long, solemn seconds. “You disappoint me.”

Archer said wearily, “The feeling is mutual.”

“There’s been talk about you, you know, Green. Certain of your old comrades dislike the fact that you’re roaming freely in the world knowing all that you do. Helping us just this once could go far toward proving that there is no need for…worry.”

“There’s no need for anyone to worry.”

“So you say. But then you would. Think about it. It’s a generous offer. You say you’re still sympathetic to SRRIM’s aims.”

Archer met and held Gaki’s gaze. It wasn’t easy. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

Gaki’s regard never faltered. Then he smiled suddenly and broadly. “Then there’s nothing more to be said. It’s disappointing for both of us, of course.”

“Yes,” Archer said huskily.

“I’d have liked nothing better than to see those beads rightfully restored to you. But I always say, if a thing is worth collecting in the first place, it’s worth hanging onto forever.”

“Forever is a long time.”

“No one knows that better than me.” Gaki grinned, his teeth very sharp. He reached for a champagne flute from the tray wafting by. “Cheers.” He turned his back and walked away.

Archer watched him go. Watched the bodyguard fall into respectful step behind.

He was surprised at the choice he’d made, and yet as he questioned his decision, he realized he did not regret it. It was the right choice.

Not that making it had brought him any pleasure.

He wandered over to the bar and ordered a Yukon Jack on the rocks. He reached for his wallet.

“I’ve got it,” a familiar voice said beside him. Commander Rake’s honey brown eyes smiled into Archer’s.

Chapter Six

“Why is it you’re always trying to buy me drinks?” Archer put his own cash on the counter and the barman swept it up.

“That should be obvious. I want to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.”

“You needn’t get me drunk for that.”

Rake’s eyes kindled with a light that made Archer briefly shy. Rake was not…handsome exactly, but he was striking—or imposing might be the better word—in his severe black evening clothes. There was something about him, some energy, some zest. In the old days they’d called it virility. Archer had no idea what they called it these days. These days they didn’t seem to make many men like Rake.

“You surprise me.” Rake’s voice seemed to reverberate right through Archer as though Archer’s spine were a tuning fork and Rake was playing his song.

His cock twitched. Elaborately casual, Archer reached for his glass. “I think that’s unlikely.” He took a long drink and decided it might be wiser to strike out for the shore and safety. “What are you doing here anyway? Following me?”

Rake’s eyebrows rose. “Following you? I have people to do that for me. No, attending fundraisers for the Vancouver Arts & Antiquities Alliance is part of my job description.”

“Why would it be?” Archer was trying not to be illogically irritated by the information that Rake couldn’t be bothered to follow him himself.

“Because deals are made and alliances, if only temporary, are forged at these events.” Rake added, “And occasionally the art and antiquities that change hands fall under my jurisdiction.”

Archer sniffed in a show of not-so-polite disbelief and sipped his whiskey.

“Speaking of which, you seemed to be having a pleasant chat with George Gaki.”

He didn’t think he gave himself away by so much as a flicker of an eyelash, but Rake chuckled, a low, growly sound that sent another pleasurable ripple of alarm and anticipation down Archer’s spine.

“Something funny?”

“Funny might not be the right word. You do like to live dangerously, don’t you, Mr. Green?”

Archer tried to sound bored. He wasn’t sure he pulled it off. “Maybe you know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I do.” Rake tossed off his own drink, measured Archer from beneath dark, shadowy lashes, and said, “How much longer did you plan on staying?”

Archer grinned. “In a hurry to get home to your pipe and slippers?”

“In a hurry to get home. Not to my pipe and slippers.”

“Ah.” Archer was surprised at the wrench of disappointment he felt. But of course Rake would have someone tending the home fires for him. Probably throwing another log on the bonfire at this very instant.