Gabriella's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp enough to cut diamonds. "And where exactly did you hear that, Mr. Jackson?"
"Oh, you know," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Connections. I've got... connections."
"Connections," she repeated, her tone flat. She scrutinized him, her gaze lingering. "You don't look like a cop. Or a detective."
He laughed nervously. "Me? A cop? No way. I'm just an investor. You know, stocks, bonds. Just your average Joe."
"Does this 'average Joe' have a name for these mysterious connections?"
He couldn't tell her about the disembodied voice in his head that was urging him to 'play it cool, Romeo.'
"I don't kiss and tell," he said, aiming for mystery. "A gentleman never reveals his sources."
She raised an eyebrow. "What exactly does this 'gentleman' want with
