The Edge of Dawn Read Free

gaze but refused to acknowledge his accuracy or buy that he knew the President. Her silence didn’t seem to bother him, though.
    â€œLet’s see. You have an MBA in finance and a doctorate in childhood education. That’s quite a mix.”
    She didn’t respond.
    â€œYou have a summer place in the Carolinas. Drive acobalt blue Z—six speed.” He paused in his recital to say, “Not many ladies drive a stick. I’m impressed.”
    Silence.
    He went on as if they were having the most pleasant of conversations. “You worked on Wall Street before you began your school, and according to the SEC you’re rich as Cleopatra.”
    That was true too, but Narice didn’t react, instead she said, “All that is public information. It doesn’t prove anybody sent you, let alone the President.”
    He took his eyes off the road for a moment to say, “You know, you really should be nicer to me. I’m probably the only one who can get you out of this mess.”
    â€œAnd that’s why the President sent you, I suppose, as opposed to the FBI.”
    â€œI work for them sometimes, too.”
    Narice sighed with frustration. She was in a car with a madman. This night was getting worse and worse. “And the Secret Service? Do you work for them, too?”
    â€œYep.”
    Narice shook her head. “Your nose should be breaking through the windshield any minute now, Pinocchio.”
    He chuckled. “Never thought a Wall Street principal would have jokes.”
    â€œYou mean that wasn’t in your file?” she asked in mock surprise.
    â€œNope. It didn’t say you were so fast either. Where’d you run track?”
    â€œMSU,” she volunteered before remembering she wasn’t supposed to be talking to this lunatic. He gave her a knowing smile that seemed to be magnified by the shades, but she ignored it, or tried to by asking him, “So who are you really?”
    â€œName’s St. Martin. Most people call me, Saint.”
    She remembered Ridley calling him St. Martin, so she felt safe in assuming that was his true name. “And who do you work for, really?”
    â€œI told you, the President.”
    Narice still didn’t believe him, and she was too upset to find any humor in him or the situation. “Okay. Fine. Where are we going?”
    â€œTo Grand Rapids to see a queen.”
    Sheer disbelief made her blurt out, “What?”
    â€œWe’re going to Grand Rapids to see a queen.”
    â€œI heard that part. Why?”
    â€œShe thinks you know where the Eye is.”
    â€œBut I don’t,” she said throwing up her hands. “Why won’t anybody believe me?”
    He shrugged. “Well, you can tell her when you see her.”
    Narice tried reason. “Look I buried my father yesterday. All I want to do is catch my plane, go home, and grieve. I promise you on my daddy’s memory, I will talk to this queen after I have a chance to pull my life back together.”
    â€œMy condolences on your loss,” he said in a sincere tone. “But I can’t let you go. So, like I said, grab some CDs and relax. We’ll be in Grand Rapids by sunup.”
    â€œLet me out of this car.”
    â€œNo can do. President’s orders.”
    Frustrated she slammed her fists on the seat. Her life was spinning out of control. No one seemed to care that she’d lost her daddy and that her grief was still fresh and real. All these men seemed to care about was a damn diamond she knew absolutely nothing about.
    Soft jazz whispered melodically from the speakers. Apparently he’d inserted the CD himself. As the sleek black car cut through the darkness with only the green glow of the dash lights illuminating the interior, Narice felt cut off from the world. In another time and place she might have loved a late-night drive in a car as beautiful and powerful as this, but there was no pleasure in this ride,