It was noon precisely when we arrived at Tanner’s flat. Once again the door opened before I had the opportunity to knock.
“James.” Tanner, his contacts once again in place, smiled warmly at me. Why had I been at such pains to keep him at arm’s length all these years?
“This is Jeremy Tanner, a…colleague of mine.” For a moment I thought he looked disappointed. “Tanner, my nephew, Mr St John Ashford, and Robert Dorincourt, the young man I mentioned to you.”
“Robin,” St John corrected with a frown. “You may call him Robin.”
“Possessive little git, aren’t you?” Dorincourt’s grin struck me as predatory, but then he touched his throat, and I was reminded that beneath his shirt was a leather collar. My nephew blushed a brilliant scarlet, but his smile was incandescent, and he leaned against hi
