“You want to take a taxi,” Lowe repeated.

“If I can just borrow your telephone.”

“Like hell you will. Where’s the map?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Why?” Lowe tilted his head to catch her gaze. “I’ll tell you why. Because we made a deal.”

“Yes, a deal that I wouldn’t tell my father. And I won’t.”

“No, no, no—this is my treasure hunt, not yours.”

“All right. Go find the map yourself then.”

“I will. As soon as you tell me where to look.”

“Seems we’re at a standstill.”

A girl’s voice called out a name from the second floor. The handsome young Chinese man she’d met at the train station, Bo, passed through the hallway behind Lowe and gave her a curious look before hiking up the staircase.

Lowe stepped closer. Her mind conjured an image of him stroking the flower in her hair, which temporarily disabled the more civilized parts of her brain. He spoke in a lowered voice. “Allow me to propose a compromise. On one hand, you know where the map is, and your mother seems to think you’re smart enough to figure out her puzzle. On the other hand, you’re not even supposed to know about the map or the pieces. I’m the one being paid to do the job, and I’m not so shabby with riddles myself. I did find the base.”

Why did he have to smell so good? “Go on.”

“Two heads might be better than one. So if you help me find the amulet pieces, I’ll talk to your father and ensure that you get the department head position at the museum.”

She snorted. “Like you have the power to do that.”

“I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

“Father’s too smart to believe your silly stories.”

“And too smart to disregard my request if I withhold the amulet in exchange for you getting the job?”

Hmm. He might actually have something there. Clearly after tonight’s public betrayal—and her hotheaded reaction—Father wasn’t interested in bargaining with her. It wasn’t the first time she’d lashed out at him in anger with the Mori, but since he’d lost his sight, he was less trusting of her. Tonight might’ve been the final straw. She could appeal to the board for a chance at the position, but they’d never go against her father’s wishes.

“We work as partners,” she said after a long moment. “I help you, you help me. We keep everything honest between us. No lying to me about the hunt. No working behind each other’s backs. You get the money, I get the job. And all of this is contingent on whether I’m right about the map’s hiding place.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you want to start right now?” she asked.

“It just so happens that a falling chandelier has cleared my schedule.”

She looked up. A copper and stained-glass Craftsman pendant hung from the ceiling. “The night’s young,” she said, giving Lowe a small smile.

He leaned in to murmur near her ear. “I really do like the way you flirt, Miss Bacall.”

Before she could protest, he called out to the kitchen, informing them that he’d be home later. Then he shucked off his tuxedo jacket and exchanged it for a leather jacket snagged from a coat rack. “This way.” He steered her into a hall that led to a covered side porch. On the other side of the railing stretched a driveway packed with cars. But Lowe was striding toward the red motorcycle. “Where are we headed?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dusting off the passenger seat,” he said, brushing a small plank of wood that floated above the back tire. The rickety thing looked to be held in place by a few spindly scraps of metal and a couple of nuts and bolts.

“I’m not riding on that. Are you crazy?”

“Don’t call her a ‘that.’ This is Lulu, and she’s a custom-made Indian motorcycle. Goes ninety miles an hour on a straightaway. But no need to worry—I don’t push her like that in the city. Astrid rides with me all the time on the second seat.”

Lulu? How ridiculous. “My dress—”

“Will be protected by that million-dollar fur of yours. Just pull it tight around your legs so it doesn’t get caught up in the wheel.”

“There are several respectable cars here. Surely we can take one of them.”

“Thought you wanted to be treated like a man, not a princess.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her emotions hovered between frustration and fear.

“Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”

She highly doubted that.

A dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “I’ll go slow.” He held out his hand and nodded toward the motorcycle.

She reluctantly accepted. While he steadied the bike, she followed his instructions, stepping up on a small footrest jutting out from the wheel before throwing her leg over to straddle the seat. A metal handle shaped like a croquet wicket arched between her seat and his. She grabbed it for balance. “This won’t work. My dress is too tight.”

“Ruck it up under your coat. No one can see anything,” he said as he mounted the driver’s seat and fiddled with a couple of mechanical switches. “Not even me, unfortunately.”

Using the heel of his shoe, Lowe roughly bore down on the starter lever near her right leg. The bike angrily rumbled to life like a bear awakened in the middle of a long winter nap, vibrating every bone in her body. No choice in the matter now. She quickly adjusted her dress and pulled her coat tight, tucking it around her thighs.