The Other Crowd Read Free

even know how all that camera stuff works. Does he?”
    “He does. His father owns QueensMark studios out of Manhattan. They do independent films, documentaries and stuff. Eric has been following in his father’s footsteps since he could toddle. He’s very good with the camera. He knows the drill and accompanied his father on a stint last summer in Kenya. He’s enthusiastic, but more important, he likes you.”
    Annja rolled her eyes.
    “He can take care of himself. He’s a big boy.”
    She glanced back at the guy, who looked like he belonged in the front row of a classroom dodging spitballs from the bully. Not even a shade of five-o’clock shadow.
    “You owe me one for accepting this assignment,” she muttered.
    “Duly noted. You go and do your job. Sleuth out the facts and bring home faerie footage. Like I said, I arranged for a buddy of mine who lives near the dig to meet you and be your guide.”
    “Another buddy? How old is he? Twelve?”
    “Annja.” Doug pressed a dramatic hand over his heart. “You wound me. All my twelve-year-old friends are tucked in with their Transformers blankies right now.” He winked.
    Doug may appear erratic and selfish on the outside, Annja thought, but she could not ignore his savantlike work ethic that had made Chasing History’s Monsters a success.
    “His name is Daniel Collins,” he explained. “He’s more a friend of Eric’s father. Eric spent a couple of weeks at his home a few summers ago during a business trip with his dad. I understand the man’s a laidback dude and you’ll get along with him, I’m sure. You get along with everyone, Annja.”
    “Guides are good.” Of course, the country was small, about the size of Indiana, but a guide would free her to worry about the assignment.
    Missing students. Mystery surrounding an archaeological dig. And…faeries.
    Hey, she was a professional. She could handle any assignment Doug lobbed at her. As soon as she got a few more hours of sleep.
    “You tell her about Daniel?” Eric asked as he joined them. “Daniel’s a bit of an eccentric,” he said to Annja, “but more normal than any other person on earth. Trust me on that one. But whatever you do, don’t get him talking about wine unless you’ve got hours to spare. The man is really into wine.”
    “I can dig it.” She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her cargo pants and eyed Eric. Eager puppy dog waiting for a bone.
    “Annja, this story is going to rock!” Doug said.
    Her producer’s enthusiasm wasn’t capable of lifting even a hint of a smile on her face. Assessing her tense muscles and stiff posture, she realized she was anxious. Not only was she voluntarily traveling three thousand miles to chase after Tinkerbell, now she’d acquired puppy-sitting duties, as well.
    “First sign of trouble, I’m sending him home,” she said as she snatched the tickets from Doug’s hands and strode into the airport through the sliding glass doors.

2
     
    His cell phone volume was turned off, yet he’d set it to flash with an incoming call. Garin Braden leaned across the black silk sheets and eyed the caller ID. A familiar, yet unwelcome, name was displayed. He groaned and sat back. A flute of champagne was cradled in his hand, and he ran his fingers through the long blond hair that spilled over his bare chest.
    “No bubbly for you?” he asked.
    “I’ll be up in a bit,” she said in a husky drawl seasoned with just the right touch of determination. Her head disappeared beneath the sheets.
    The red flashing LED had ceased and now the phone vibrated across the marble nightstand. That indicated someone was leaving a message. He didn’t want to talk to the old man at this particular moment.
    Slamming back the champagne, Garin set the glass on the nightstand next to the phone that began to blink red again. “Give it up, old man.”
    Another message vibrated the cell phone dangerously close to the edge of the nightstand. Just when the phone teetered and