Which was good, because the sooner they cut through the sales crap, the sooner they could leave. There were only three software packages relevant to the health care and pharmaceuticals industry, and they'd already had demos of two of them. Software Solutions was the last.
Donaldson pointed to the stand and they headed that way. There seemed to be only one person standing there. Good, that meant they could railroad the salesman with questions and figures, put him on the back foot and get him to commit to a deal in their favor on the spot. Then they could get out of there.
"Excuse me, we'd like a demonstration," he said in his most authoritative voice.
The man turned around and Tarken took a step back, crashing into Donaldson. "You! What are you doing here?"
It was the man he'd seen having dinner with Abbey. His Abbey.
Tarken straightened, drew himself up to his full height—which was still a good four inches less that this fellow, he realized—and glared back at the dark haired man.
His face was grave and a small muscle jumped in his throat. He looked like a man barely holding onto his self control. Tarken swallowed.
"My name is Damien Vane," the man said. He held out his hand. "I believe we met the other night."
Tarken swallowed at the sound of that voice. It was the same voice that had sent the waiter scuttling over and him eager to leave on Tuesday night. In the cold light of day, Tarken wasn't proud of his hasty retreat then. He should've stayed and confronted him. He should have fought for Abbey.
"Yes," said Tarken, shaking his hand, "I believe we did. Are you the Software Solutions representative?"
He nodded. "And you are?"
"Tarken Pratt from JJC Pharmaceuticals. This is my associate, Max Donaldson. We'd like to have a look at your application."
"Certainly," said Vane stiffly. He led them to a table where a laptop was set up and he began to run through the features of his software.
After ten minutes, Tarken yawned loudly. "Okay, I think we've seen enough. Come on, Donaldson, let's go."
"But I've got a million questions," cried Donaldson. "What operating systems can it run on?"
Tarken rolled his eyes and Vane launched into his spiel. Donaldson, curse him, asked his million questions and Vane, double curse him, answered them all smoothly.
The guy knew his stuff, that much was clear even to him.
Finally Donaldson finished. His smile indicated he was satisfied with the answers.
Tarken wondered if all of Vane's customers came away satisfied. Did Abbey?
He let out a loud huff and politely thanked Vane for his time while hustling Donaldson away from the stand. He should've started the ball rolling on a deal, but he just wanted to get away and think this through first.
They were halfway across the room when he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder. He winced. He knew it had been too easy. Vane wanted to confront him on Abbey's behalf, probably prove how macho he was, and tell him not to call her again. Well, too bad. He wasn't giving up on Abbey that easily, especially not to a computer salesman.
"Mr. Pratt, I'd like to talk to you."
Tarken spun round, ready to do battle. The grim determination on the other man's face made him stop. Going by the grip on his shoulder, this guy could beat him to a pulp if he felt like it.
Maybe Tarken could keep him talking. If he remained inside, where hundreds of people were milling about, what could the guy to do to him?
"Please call me Tarken," said Tarken. "Is this about business?"
"No."
"I didn't think so." He turned to Donaldson. "I'll meet you back at the office."
Donaldson smiled awkwardly, glanced from one man to the other, then scurried away.
"Look, Vane," said Tarken, puffing out his chest, "Abbey's my girlfriend."
"She told me you broke up. You slept with a girl called Melinda."
"That was a small misunderstanding. I've realized I can't live without Abbey. I've called her and explained and it's only a matter of time before we're back together."
"I don't think so."
"You don't think so? And what's my relationship with Abbey got to do with you?"
"That's none of your business."
The man's eyes flashed at him like two black opals.
Tarken cleared his throat. "This conversation is getting nowhere. If you've said all you want to say—"
"I haven't."
Vane glanced away thoughtfully and Tarken wondered if this indicated a chink in the armor.
"I wanted to ask you something about Abbey."
"And what makes you think I'll answer anything you want to know?"
Vane's lips drew into thin white lines. "Because something tells me you're afraid of me."
Tarken blinked in surprise. He laughed. "I'm not afraid of you. Why would I be? In fact, you should be afraid of me. I'm a potential customer. I could decide to not buy your software. I could decide to spread nasty rumors about how terrible your software is, and how much of an arrogant scumbag Software Solutions' VP of Marketing is."
"Go ahead," said Vane. "And while you're at it don't forget that I'm a womanizing drunk. That detail is very important."
Tarken took a step backwards. This man was mentally unbalanced. Maybe he should at least listen to his questions, just in case he was a maniac. Besides, he didn't have to actually answer any of them.
"Go on."
"Where can I find Abbey?"
Tarken laughed. "You mean you don't know?"
But Vane didn't nod or shake his head. He just stood, stoically, staring unblinking at him. Then he took a step forward and grabbed Tarken on the arm. And squeezed.
Tarken flinched. This guy looked dangerous enough that he might cause trouble.
"I won't give you her address. I don't trust you." The grip on his arm tightened. "Okay, okay. I'll give you Lucy's office address. That's her best friend, in case you didn't know. Richmond P.I." He recited the address of the decrepit little office. Let him deal with Lucy. If she didn't scare him off then he deserved Abbey as a prize for bravery.
Vane's brows drew together. He didn't let go of Tarken's arm. "Richmond P.I.? Lucy's a private investigator?"
Tarken nodded. "You really don't know much about Abbey, do you?"
Vane glared at him. "Tell me then."
Tarken shrugged. Just the bare facts, he thought. Nothing personal. "She's helping Lucy out on a case right now."
Vane's eyes narrowed. "What sort of case?"
"How should I know?"