"You have no idea," Solin said with a laugh. "Acheron would kill you to hear you speak of him in such a manner."
Arik kicked at his brother's foot before he turned his attention back to Geary. "But enough about me.
What changed your mind about finding it?"
"My father. I promised him when he died that I'd find it for him."
"That was kind of you."
Geary looked away as her emotions choked her. She only wished she'd been kinder to him when he'd been alive.
Solin let out a long breath as if her emotions upset him, too. "Well, let's all get maudlin, shall we?" He reached up and pressed a button for the intercom to buzz his driver.
"Yes, sir?"
"George, stop on the way and get us some red-hot pokers to put out our eyes. Oh, and while you're at it, I think we should see about adding salt for our wounds, too."
"Quite good, sir," the driver said in a dry tone. Then without missing a beat, he continued, "Is there any particular place you'd care for me to stop? I've heard the market is a good place for pokers. That is, if you're agreeable to a short detour."
Solin appeared to consider it. "What do you two think? Run-of-the-mill pokers, or a better quality? Oh hell, why not use rusty spoons? They'd hurt more."
Geary shook her head. "You are a sick man."
Solin arched a brow at her. "So are you telling me you're going to pass on my offer?"
"Call me crazy, but yeah. I think I'll pass."
"Okay. Thanks, George. It appears we'll go without the pokers after all."
"Very good, sir. Should I still stop for that salt?"
Again Solin appeared to seriously consider it before he answered. "No, I think we're fine for now."
"Very good, sir."
Geary let out a nervous laugh as she glanced back and forth between Solin and Arik. The two of them were so odd. And they had the most offbeat humor she'd ever encountered. "You two must have been a lot of fun growing up. I'll bet your poor parents are still having nightmares."
Solin burst out laughing. "Oh, you have no idea."
"I feel like I'm on the outside of this inside joke you two keep passing around."
"Ignore Solin," Arik said quietly. "I told you he's demented."
"Yes, but I taught Arik well. Didn't I, Brother?"
Geary didn't miss the fleeting glimmer of rage in Arik's eyes. It was subtle but unmistakable.
The car slowed down and turned a corner that Geary knew better than the street where her flat was.
She'd walked this way so many times over the last five years that she could do it blindfolded.
They were almost there.
Frustrated doom settled like a lump in her chest as the driver parked on the street in the same exact location the taxi had used earlier that day.
It's just getting better and better.
The driver opened the door to let her out on the sidewalk. Arik came out behind her and then Solin, who left the car with a masculine flourish. Several women on the street practically swooned.
"Greetings, my lovelies," Solin said flirtatiously as he gave them a seductive grin.
They whispered among themselves as they continued on their way while glancing back to look at him.
Arik passed a droll look to Geary. "Strange how women can't help staring at a train wreck, eh?"
Solin rolled his eyes at Arik's remark. "Like you would know."
"True. I'm never a train wreck myself. I merely admire the way you skid from the tracks and burn."
As they approached the government building, a uniformed guardsman opened the door to admit them.
Geary started for the stairs only to have Solin divert her. "We don't go up there with the average people.
Our man is this way."
She frowned at Arik before she followed Solin into an elegant office that was filled with Greek antiquities. The anthropologist in her was instantly fascinated by the perfectly preserved black figure vase in a glass trophy case. She'd never seen a more preserved piece. It was absolutely exquisite.
She splayed her hand against the glass as she stared in awe of the piece. "It's from the first century."
She sensed Arik standing behind her. "The battle of Troy. You can see Achilles dragging Hector around the walls."
Geary nodded as she saw them. "There's not a chip on it."
"Which is why it's in the case."
She turned at the perturbed voice to find a portly gentleman in his early sixties. She'd seen him here a time or two when she'd come in the past, but she had no idea of his name or job title.
He rocked back and forth on his heels as he sized her up. "Dr. Kafieri, I presume?"
"Yes."
He narrowed a look on her that said he didn't think much of her before he let out a suffering sigh. He turned toward Solin. "I hope you won't forget this favor."
"Believe me, I won't."
The portly man gave a curt nod before he took them into a small office with a black desk that was scattered with papers.