The Megiddo Mark, Part 1 Read Online Free Page B

Nothing, and no one, would divert him from his goal this time. Not even his gothic conscience who hissed and clicked as she walked back to her desk.
    Half an hour later, Sienna slapped a note in front of him. “Here’s what I found on her after a quick search.” She smiled at him. “And here’s a company check cut for two thousand pounds. Cheers, Boss. I’m outta here. Have a good weekend. Oh, and don’t forget to pay your dinner date for the book when you take it. La’Bel buzzed, he’s on his way up. Gotta run.”
    Cullen grunted. “Saboteur.”
    “What? Me?” She looked at him. “Never. You’re the boss. Since you don’t have your own woman, somebody’s got to keep you honest.”
    Damn. She’d done it again.
    Moments later Kane La’Bel walked through the opened door. Something about La’Bel always made Cullen shift into predator mode. He remained seated behind his desk, not bothering to rise for the head of Oxford’s School of Archaeology.
    “La’Bel. What can I do for you this evening? Little late for a social call.” He looked at his watch. Nine o’clock. He stretched back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head.
    “Wade, the witty conversationalist as usual.” La’Bel’s smile didn’t reach his silver-gray eyes. Around forty years old, he was known to attract women in swarms. Cullen guessed it was the blond hair and pale eyes. Personally, he couldn’t see the draw. Yet the department head seemed to have the opposite effect on Wade’s assistant. Today was no exception. She’d high-tailed it out of his office as soon as La’Bel called up for entry downstairs.
    He watched La’Bel, unsmiling.
    “Thought I’d stop by, see how you’re getting along.” Hands in his pockets, he looked around the office then moved to the bookcase. He pulled a book from the shelf, and walked toward Cullen’s desk where he stopped. He opened the book and ran his index finger down the page. No matter how much Cullen wanted to throw the bastard out on his arrogant ass, he refrained because of the man’s professional status within the field. He never burned bridges.
    “Well, I’ll sit, since you didn’t offer.” La’Bel unbuttoned his jacket then sat on the leather sofa. He tossed the book onto the seat next to him.
    “It’s late. I’m wrapping things up here.”
    “Yes, then I’ll be brief. Word on the street is that you were a heavy bidder today in Oxford.” He tapped his chin. “But you came up empty-handed.”
    Cullen gritted his teeth and held his silence.
    “Not something that usually happens to you.” La’Bel smiled warmly. “Losing your touch?”
    “No. Distracted.”
    “Ah, yes. A pretty young woman. What’s her name?”
    Kane La’Bel had been a bitter rival of Cullen’s since their early days at University. They’d been pitted against each other too many times, in far too many scenarios to underestimate one another in any situation. When La’Bel wanted something badly enough he usually got it, but people were often trampled in the process. Cullen, alone, had not let La’Bel run rough-shod over him and he knew that therein lay the challenge for La’Bel.
    “Not your usual type . . .”
    Cullen squinted. “Malena Alexander is not my type at all, not that it’s any of your concern.”
    “. . . of text. You target books a lot older and, shall we say, less whimsical in nature?” His smooth, deep voice had a hypnotic quality to it. Cullen had noticed the calming tone recently on several occasions when La’Bel conducted a series of lectures for top scholars. Again, tonight, he experienced the effect La’Bel’s cadence had on him, a gentle tug lulling him into a state of peaceful tranquility.
    “There’s nothing whimsical about A. Alexander’s poetry.”
    A glint of satisfaction flashed in La’Bel’s eyes, as if indicating Cullen had just given him a valuable piece of information.
    Damn. Cullen stood up, walked to the cabinet behind his desk and poured himself a