EIGHT
“Dalton McKay.”
Peter frowned at his cell phone before putting it back to his ear, ignoring the sharp jab of pain that the action caused. It must have been the frustrating conversation with the delectable Kiya that caused him to think something was awry with his employer. That or the phone was distorting Dalton’s voice. “There you are. I’ve been calling you for the last twelve hours. Where have you been?”
“Peter. My apologies—I was called away briefly.”
“Did you get any information from the magician?”
“The magician?” Dalton sounded oddly surprised. “Ah, him. No, I haven’t seen him. I don’t think he’s worth investigating after all.”
“Bad lead?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, your timing is as bad as ever,” Peter said, taking fresh clothing from his suitcase.
“Peter-ji, would i
