by Sandra Moore
Fear spiked in her stomach. “I’ve never—”
“I know. It is why you must be mine. Otherwise, a soldier or even the Red Pole may decide to take advantage of you when you are…relaxed.” He nuzzled her nose. “Forgive me.”
His lips were surprisingly soft, sensual, on hers. All the anxiety and tension in her nerves exploded upward, from her stomach to her chest. Unthinking, she opened her mouth and he accepted, his tongue sliding languidly in, taking his time. The hand still cupping her bottom kneaded her gently. He tasted as clean as he smelled, as if he’d just drunk from a pure spring.
Johnny winced as he let go of her and stared over her shoulder. “Showtime.”
Nikki turned in his arms.
The Red Pole was headed for them, his face beaming with genuine invitation.
Chapter 6
“I wish to make my apologies,” the Red Pole said in English as he led them through the black door. “My associates sometimes lack the judgment their work requires.”
He swept his arm out, inviting them into a wide, darkened room. “I am Chan Yunxu, owner of this establishment.”
Nikki and Johnny stepped inside. When Chan closed the door behind them, the music that had blasted their eardrums was muted to a rhythmic thumping but nothing more. No screeching singer or whining guitars. Lead-lined doors, Nikki guessed.
“As you can see, we offer a place of rest and entertainment,” Chan continued.
There must have been twenty couches, maybe more, spread out in the room, and Nikki felt as if she’d suddenly been dropped into a movie set in turn-of-the-century London. Only a few of the couches were occupied, however, and the fragrant smoke that she’d expected to be as thick as fog simply spiraled up in thin streams from the occupants.
It was a laid-back crowd, tended by slender women in xi pao—traditional long, tight silk wraps.
Nikki could barely make out a tangle of limbs and clothing on a distant couch. Another few moments of staring and her brain finally clicked: a woman was “entertaining” a client while he smoked.
“It enhances the sexual experience,” Chan said over her shoulder. “I am guessing you have not tried our poppy?”
“No,” Nikki replied, but her voice sounded faint.
“Please,” Chan said. “Lie down. Enjoy yourself.”
Mission accomplished, damn her hypersensitive nose. The secondhand smoke was enough to have her limbs feeling heavy. Nikki felt an urgency to get out of the room and into fresh air, but the urgency called from far away.
“I need to leave,” she tried to say, but she wasn’t sure anything came out of her mouth.
Johnny’s strong arm encircled her and held her up just as she started to sink onto the closest couch. “My apologies,” she heard him say to Chan. “She is very sensitive.”
“Indeed, you are fortunate,” Chan replied.
Was that a hint of a leer she heard in the Red Pole’s voice? Did he think she’d “entertain” someone while in this state of lucid half-being or whatever it was?
Nikki was aware she was offended, but that didn’t really matter. The feeling would pass, she knew, and right now she just wanted to lie down, preferably somewhere near Johnny Zhao, maybe with him wrapped around her. Or her wrapped around him. Entertaining him would be nice.
No, wait. She didn’t want that. She wanted to find out who Diviner was and where she could find him. Yes, that’s what she wanted. She saw her goal perfectly clearly, about a hundred miles out in front of her. One step at a time. There was plenty of time to track down her quarry.
Her knees collapsed.
She heard Johnny calling her name, then her chin was in his hand. Another hand pried open her eyelids. She wanted to say something, but she was pretty sure all that came out was a whimper.
Johnny and Chan started talking excitedly in Cantonese, and moments later she was being carried through another door and settled into an overstuffed armchair.
It was like being dropped into hell.
The small room’s carpeted floor and painted walls were covered in the exact same shade of red. A chandelier hung in golden splendor, casting a bright yellow glow onto the red furnishings. The walls held gilt-framed mirrors that echoed the room back at itself. Everywhere, the scent of opium.
Nikki tried to swallow, but it hurt so much she nearly screamed. Or did scream. She wasn’t quite sure, though she was very aware of Johnny shouting—that was shouting, wasn’t it?—at Chan. In moments Chan was shouting back.
The room was suddenly full of burly men and most of them were yelling. Johnny was holding his own in the match, addressing himself mainly to a classy-looking guy wearing an electric-blue suit with a matching electric-blue tie. Then suddenly Johnny had assumed the position against the wall and was being frisked by men who didn’t seem to mind roughing him up in the process.
Fear crawled through Nikki’s stomach and up her throat. If he was armed…
One of the men rifled through Johnny’s wallet while another held his face to the wall. Nikki’s blood drained like hot lead to her feet. If Johnny was carrying his Hong Kong police badge, they were dead for sure.
She had to get up. Gritting her teeth, she managed to squirm into a straighter sitting position.
“Wait!” she said.
Everyone ignored her. Damn macho jerks.
She took a deep breath that had her head spinning and stood. “Leave him alone!” she shouted.
That got them looking at her.
“Be quiet!” Johnny said against the wall. “You can’t bargain with them!”
But it was all so clear. So incredibly, beautifully clear.
“Who’s in charge?” she demanded. “Who’s the Fu Shan Chu?”
The electric-blue suit detached itself from the pack of men and sauntered toward her. As it drew closer, she fought to keep her eyes wide open, not half-drooped as they wanted to be. The Fu Shan Chu was one good-looking guy, that was for sure, longish hair brushing his collar, strong jaw and cheekbones, sensual lips. He reminded her a bit of Johnny.
“Are you about to do something foolish?” the Fu Shan Chu asked as he stopped near her. His gaze dropped to her chest, sparking her annoyance.
“I’m up here,” she said.
A gold pinky ring flashed as he waved off her words. “Yes, but you are there, too.”
“And I had a chat with your Chou Hai,” she continued, “who told us about a little shipment going out later this week to Vladivostok.”
The suit stiffened slightly, then barked in Cantonese. Johnny was abruptly released and shoved over to stand next to Nikki. “What do you know of my Chou Hai?” he demanded. When Johnny started to open his mouth, the suit said, “In English.”
Johnny glanced at the guards, who’d apparently skipped their English language classes in favor of beating up the honor students. “We were looking for something aboard your SHA vessel and found a Sun Yee On scouting party crawling over the ship. When we had subdued them, we had a talk with your Chou Hai. We can make sure your Russian shipment will be delivered if you give us the information we’re looking for.”
The man’s face showed no emotion, no surprise. Not even a blink. Behind him, Chan’s hands kneaded each other.
“The Chou Hai couldn’t supply that information, but you can,” Johnny continued. “We don’t care about your shipment out. We want to know about the shipment in.” He paused. “It will cost you nothing to tell us.”
The Fu Shan Chu regarded Johnny for a long moment. He let his gaze rest on Nikki, linger over her bustier, study her legs beneath the short skirt. Nikki suppressed the urge to fidget under his scrutiny and instead lifted her chin, though the movement made her slightly nauseous.
“Nor would it cost me to kill you both now and proceed with my plans—”
“But—” she interrupted, then stopped when the electric suit—the real Electric Dragon—raised a hand as if to strike her. Nikki lifted her chin, ready to take the blow. Bastardo .
She was sudden
ly awash in protective pine, the clean, pungent scent that drove the last of the opium from her lungs and throat.
Johnny’s single step between her and the Fu Shan Chu provoked four guards to bolt forward, but the Electric Dragon turned his threatened strike at Nikki into a warning to his men: back off.
“She needs to learn respect,” the Dragon told Johnny. “Of course, she will be more valuable if she does not, for certain men would pay a high price for a spirited woman, especially if her…skills…match her appearance.”
Johnny nodded warily, but with a hint of sleaze. “Let us first settle the matter of the Chou Hai and the name I need. Then we will settle on the woman.”
Rage spiraled through Nikki’s stomach as she registered his words. He didn’t mean to give her up, she knew that intellectually, but his cavalier act looked a little too real. It had to be convincing, she reminded herself, but her emotions weren’t listening to her logic.
“Or I will simply take the woman after I kill you,” the Dragon observed in the same manner a man might suggest an afternoon walk.
A jerk of the Dragon’s head had his men swarming over Johnny.
Nikki suddenly saw, with almost preternatural clarity, what had to be done.
She yanked her cell phone from its holster and held it up like a beacon. “Let him go or I bomb the boat.”
Bomb must have been a familiar word because the guards paused in their wrestling match with the wiry and slippery Johnny Zhao, who muttered, “Don’t say anything! Shut up!”
“Don’t tell me my ship is rigged,” the Dragon said softly.
“All right, I won’t,” Nikki went on. “And I won’t tell you that your Chou Hai spilled his guts when he thought I was going to kill him.”
The scent of clean rain wafted over to her. Johnny was amused by her bluff even as he played along.
The Dragon stood transfixed for a moment before wrenching his attention from her cleavage and spitting, “Coward,” in disgust.
Nikki fought the sinking feeling she’d just signed the Chou Hai’s death warrant. Could the Dragon reach inside a Kowloon jail and kill him?
“You’re lying about the boat,” the Dragon said.
Oh, but she knew very well exactly how to sink a vessel. “Good thing the ship isn’t double-hulled. I only needed a couple of C-4 bricks strapped to a raw-water intake. And since I disabled the bilge pumps, I’m thinking maybe an hour tops to sink it.” She tilted her cell to show him the red light declaring the phone’s willingness to send the killing signal and smiled. “You’re on my speed dial.”
The Dragon stared at her. Behind him, a gilded mirror reflected the gilded mirror behind her, and she and the Dragon marched together on and on and on, facing off into infinity.
“I don’t mind the loss of a ship,” he said finally.
“But you probably do mind the inquiries that will be made,” Johnny said. He no longer strained against the men holding him, but simply leaned forward, as if into a strong wind. “The Hong Kong police won’t take long to trace the ship to your Chou Hai, and then to you.”
“Worse, the Russians’ll be pissed,” Nikki added.
She slowly, deliberately, pressed an unprogrammed button on the cell, whose red light obligingly blinked. “The detonator is now armed. If I let go of this button but don’t press the abort code within five seconds, it’ll blow.”
The Dragon’s eyes narrowed to consider them both. Nikki fought to control her sense of triumph as she smelled his capitulation. Rancid cantaloupe.
“What name do you need?”
“Release my friend first,” Nikki demanded.
The Dragon smiled. “He is my guest. You are my guest. We are fine as we are. What name do you need?”
Nikki shook her head. “Let him go.” Then she gave him a below-the-belt shot. “We defended your ship against a dozen Sun Yee On soldiers. You owe us something for that. How do I know you’re an honorable man?”
The Dragon’s breath hissed between his teeth. He barked a few words. Nikki didn’t have to look to know Johnny had joined her; his pine scent enveloped her like the opium had.
Johnny said, “We can restore your Russian shipment. But we want to know what came from the States.”
“Your ship carried a passenger called Diviner,” Nikki continued. “Where did he come from and where is he headed?”
The Dragon glared for another long minute, then snapped his fingers. Chan Yunxu hit a number on a cell phone and handed it over to his boss.
While the Dragon talked in a low voice with whomever was on the other end of the call—a bookkeeper, a shipping clerk, an assassin—Nikki counted her breaths. Each clean breath brought a little more clarity to her conscious brain and a little less clarity to whatever part of her brain had thought it was a good idea to tackle the Chinese version of a Mafioso on his own turf. She shifted her weight nervously, but Johnny leaned in just enough to make contact, thigh to thigh, hip to hip.
Be steady. We’re in this together, the message said.
The Dragon snapped his phone shut.
“Diviner was indeed on the SHA ship,” he said, “coming from the States and spending twenty-seven days at sea.”
“But the passenger who boarded in Miami disembarked before arrival here,” Nikki said.
The Dragon smiled the smallest of smiles. “Diviner traveled freight, so to speak.”
“Freight?” Johnny’s voice sounded almost bored.
“Diviner is a container,” Nikki said. Of course it was. The suspicious container that had been loaded up in Miami after bypassing customs.
“Of sorts,” the Dragon admitted. “He—It travels within.”
“We found no passengers aboard and nothing was off-loaded from the vessel,” Johnny said in a low voice to her.
Nikki frowned in consternation. Her probe had registered a signal before she ran across Johnny, and then had registered nothing after they’d interviewed the Chou Hai.
Damn.
Nikki wanted to smack her forehead in frustration over her own idiocy. She’d been looking for a human somewhere on the ship because Dana had confirmed Diviner was human. Nikki had assumed he was traveling with the container, not inside it. So when the signal died, she assumed he’d left the ship.
Here’s a dollar. Buy a clue.
Diviner, whoever or whatever he was, had simply turned off the signal.
She fought down a rising tide of anger at her own stupidity to ask the Dragon, “Where’s his next stop?”
He shrugged, his subtle suit pattern glinting in the chandelier light like scales. “We only brought him from the States. Where he goes from here is none of our concern.”
“Where did he come from?”
“He arrived in Miami from New York, I believe.”
Nikki pondered that one for a moment before she said, “The SHA vessel carried only a half load. I imagine you lost money on that shipment.”
The Dragon eyed her while Chan fidgeted. Finally the Fu Shan Chu said, “Diviner paid well.”
“Half a shipment’s worth?” Johnny interjected. “That must be…what? Hundreds of thousands of dollars?”
The Dragon shrugged. “He wanted to be loaded quickly, on top of the other containers. He paid for the privilege.”
Something about the way the Dragon said “paid” caught Nikki’s attention. Chan’s subtle smirk and the lemon drifting over to her suggested they’d gotten their money’s worth.
She took a long, slow sniff.
No, it was more than that. It was triumph, all right, but with a hint of retribution around the edges. Old grudges long festering, now settled.
“Did he pay you in cash?” she asked.
The Dragon let a grin widen his sensual lips. “In information.”
“About what?”
The Dragon bristled at Johnny’s question. “Nothing of your concern.”
“They settled an old score,” Nikki told Johnny, then turned back to the Dragon. “How could Diviner, who’s been trav
eling for months, maybe years, in a container, possibly know enough about your enemies to help you get revenge?”
Surprise registered in the air. Surprise that she’d guessed Diviner’s payment? That she’d read him so easily? “How should I know his methods?” he countered. “The information was accurate. That’s all I cared about.”
Nikki pondered that, then said, “When’s he due to be off-loaded?”
“I have no idea.”
“We should go now,” Johnny said, not sounding the least bit hurried. He bowed to the Dragon. “Your Chou Hai will be eager to return to you.”
The Dragon bowed in return. “Your services aboard my vessel, selfish as they were, are appreciated,” he said. “And our Russian shipment will be unimpeded?”
Johnny inclined his head, but it was Nikki the Dragon was watching.
“As soon as you let us go and I code the abort sequence,” she retorted. “Or else your boat goes ‘boom.’”
The Wo Shing Wo collective scowled. Chan fretted, wringing his hands. The Dragon waved them toward the door with fingers studded with flashing gold, as if her words meant nothing to him, but she noted their trembling.
Nikki walked away with Johnny’s broad hand on the small of her back, enveloped by a protective pine forest engulfed in clean and laughing rain.
Chapter 7
“S o Diviner travels inside his container.” Nikki switched hands on the scrambled phone while she talked to the computerized voice of Delphi. “By the time we got back to the terminal, the container was gone, already off-loaded and moved to who knows where.”
She didn’t try to keep the bitterness from her voice. She’d had Diviner in her sights—right under her proverbial nose—and let him slip past her.
Slip past her. In a ten-ton container.
“And the Sun Yee On?” Delphi asked.
“Back in full force as we were leaving the port,” Nikki reported. “The Wo Shing Wo had shown up and it looked like it was going to be the O.K. Corral all over again.”
If Johnny was listening, he showed no sign of it. He was efficiently tossing gear into a leather bag while she talked. His apartment wasn’t as bachelor-paddish as she had expected from some kind of cop-warrior, but he had plenty of guy-toys to pack: his semiautomatics, throwing knives, nunchaku. A teddy bear.