"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?"
"So you're not her boyfriend?"
Tarken shrugged and sighed. "Not since she found out about Melinda. But that's over now, and I'm going to get her back. So don't get in my way, Vane."
The arrogant S.O.B. actually smiled at that. No, not a smile, a snarl. A vicious one.
"I figure there's not much money in Lucy's line of work so in a few days Abbey will come crawling back."
Vane frowned, then a shadow of alarm flashed across his black eyes. Good. Whatever he'd said was having an affect.
"You give her money?"
"Well, yeah. Good money. She works pretty hard for it though. And I have to admit, she's good at what she does."
The hand on his arm tightened and Tarken swallowed. Already his limb was becoming numb from the lack of blood flow. But it was worth it just to see the look on Vane's face. It was almost a look of...fear?
"I didn't really realize how good until she quit. Always the way though, isn't it? You're employees leave and you find no one else in the company knows how to do what they do. I've advertised for a replacement, but so far the agency hasn't come up with a suitable applicant."
Vane's grip relaxed and so did Tarken, clenching and unclenching his fist to get the blood flowing again. Vane frowned at him, his eyebrows knitted.
"She works for you?"
"That's what I just said."
"What does she do."
"Nothing, she quit."
"Before she quit, Idiot."
Tarken smarted. "She was my personal assistant."
Vane's arm dropped to his side. "Personal assistant?" His voice was vague, distant.
Good. He had Vane on the ropes. He didn't know how he'd managed it, but that didn't matter. It was the end result that was important, and the end result was that Vane was on the back foot. Obviously his answers were the opposite of what Vane had expected to hear. Or wanted to hear. Excellent. Tarken was winning. He enjoyed winning.