Legend of the Sorcerer Read Online Free PDF

I’m not a regular member of the staff here. You’ll have to go in to the office. They can help you, I’m sure.”
    “I don’t need to speak with the staff. I want to talk to you.”
    Was he coming on to her? She didn’t think so. He wasn’t smiling or trying to be charming.
    “I’m Malacai L’Baan.” He didn’t extend his hand. Instead, he studied her closely, too closely, as if looking for some reaction on her part.
    Jordy went back to gathering the papers and utensils. “I’m sorry, but I’m in sort of a hurry.”
    “Maybe these will slow you down.” He tossed a glossy photo on top of the stack of paper she’d collected.
    It was a picture of her standing in front of the hotel. If he had her pictures, then those photos she’d received were probably his. Was this the man who’d done such horrific damage to that woman? Her gaze was drawn to his hands. Long fingers, not slender, but well formed and unscarred. They didn’t look like the hands of a bully. But abusers hands probably came in all shapes and sizes.
    “I believe those are mine,” she said.
    “The envelope had my name on it.”
    She looked up at him, taking him in for the first time. He was tall, probably just under six feet. Pretty good build, tanned and fit looking, dark hair, attractive. Or maybe he would be if he smiled.
    Should she explain about the mix-up? What would she say when he asked for his photos back? What would he do when he found out she’d turned them over to the police?
    “What do you know about all this?”
    Jordy tensed. “It looks like they stuck the wrong photos in your envelope.”
    “You looked surprised to see them.”
    “Well, of course I am. I thought they were lost.”
    “You’re telling me this was a simple mix-up?”
    “Yes. What else could it be?” Did he think she was somehow helping the woman he’d beaten up? But why had he taken pictures of her and risked having them developed? None of this made sense.
    “Do you work here?” he asked.
    “What? Yes. Why?”
    “Those look like vacation pictures.”
    “I’m an artist, they’re shots I took as subjects.” She sounded too nervous. But he was making her uncomfortable. She should just call Sgt. Winston, not take any chances. She catalogued his features, though she knew she’d never forget a detail. His face was lean planes and hard angles. He’d be challenging to sculpt, she thought, surprised at the sudden itch in her fingertips. She could almost feel the taut skin, the fine bone structure.… Her hands tightened on the envelope. And those eyes … they’d never come across fully in clay. They needed color. A rich gray, deep and soft like cashmere, and wholly mesmerizing. No, she’d never forget what he looked like.
    What was the name he gave her? Mal something. Something unusual, different.
    “I really appreciate you dropping these off.” She pasted on a smile. “Thank you.”
    He was still frowning. “You’re saying when you went to pick these up they just said they were lost? Wasn’t there another envelope somewhere with your name on it?”
    “I’m sorry you lost your pictures.”
    “You don’t have them?”
    “No.” At least she didn’t have to lie.
    “And you don’t know anything else about this. You’ve never heard of me before.”
    “No, I’ve never heard of you,” she said, becoming as confused now as he was.
    “This makes no sense,” he muttered.
    “I got the impression the shop wasn’t all that well managed. I’d guess this happens to them a lot.”
    “I don’t suppose you’d mind telling me your name?”
    “I don’t think that’s a great idea. Good luck finding your pictures.” She laid the envelope on top of the stack of paper and scooped up the pile.
    “If this is just an innocent mix-up, then I’m sorry.” He sighed, though more to himself. “I really need to find those other pictures. It’s very important.”
    There was an urgency in his voice. Maybe he really was trying to help that woman.