"This is nuts." She was silent a moment. "You mean it."

"I mean it. Get moving." He hung up the phone. He'd done all he could do. It was up to Devon now. He had only one more call to make.

CRAZY. DEVON SLOWLY PRESSED the disconnect. She should ignore the call and go on with her day.

But Marrok's voice had been dead serious.

And she believed he thought he was telling the truth even if it was completely bizarre.

Get moving.

Whatever was going to happen, he thought there was urgency.

Ignore it?

She got to her feet and moved toward the reception room. She didn't ignore warnings if she thought they held even a grain of truth. She had seen too many tragedies, too many villagers caught in mudslides and rushing floodwater and other disasters when they'd ignored warnings that might have saved them.

The reception room was empty of clients, and Terry was sitting cross-legged on the floor, patting Ned's belly. Red-haired, pretty, and voluptuous, she always reminded Devon of a model or showgirl. But her receptionist was smart as a whip and amazingly efficient. Terry glanced up with a guilty grin. "Okay, so this isn't my job. I was just massaging him. I thought it might help."

"Yeah, sure." Evidently Terry was clearly bewitched by Ned. "Do we have any more appointments today?"

"There's one at four." Terry got to her feet. "But that's for Dr. Dalks."

"I think we're going to call it a day." She clipped a leash to Ned's collar. "Call the client and postpone. Then lock up and go home, Terry."

"Really?" Terry smiled eagerly as she picked up the phone and started to look up the number. "Right away. You're not going to get an argument from me. I've got a hot date tonight, and I need to get a pedicure."

"I doubt if he'll be looking at your toes, Terry."