He glanced at his chronometer. Nearly time to meet Jen. He must have spent more time down in the utility corridors than he realized.
Inside the shop, he snatched a kimono-type robe, a fake gray beard, and a wizard’s hat with an attached wig and paid for them with cash Jen had given him. In a nearby restroom, he exchanged his staff uniform for the disguise. The robe would hide his leg injury.
Outdoors in the afternoon sunshine, he put a blank look on his face as he headed for the exit. It wasn’t easy. Whenever he put any weight on his leg, his gut lurched and his head swam. If only he had a hypospray from his medkit.
Just get out of here. See if Jen is safe.
He clenched his jaw, dragging himself forward, once again cursing his lack of equipment and the situation that had landed him there. How would he make it to Florida now when he could barely walk?
****
Jen paced outside the front gate where Paz was due to meet her. She hadn’t waited around for the results of her finger prick, slipping away from her cubicle and back into the gift shop when no one was looking. She’d hastened toward the exit, glad to escape unhindered.
She tapped her foot impatiently, anxious for Paz’s safe return. Where was the man?
Peering over her sunglasses, she scanned the guests streaming through the turnstiles. Asians mixed with westerners but she saw no sign of her handsome warrior.
An old man dressed in a kimono and a pointy hat hobbled toward her, his robe swishing with each slow step.
He nudged her as he shuffled past. “Let’s move. We’ll take the tram into the city.”
Her jaw dropped. “Paz? I never would have guessed. But why the tram? It makes too many stops. The subway would be faster.”
“It’s too far to walk, and I can’t do the steps.”
“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed as he limped forward. “What happened to you? Did you get the info you needed?” She knew that would have been his priority.
“Yes, I did. How about you?” His lips pressed together.
Jen didn’t like his pale complexion but deemed it unwise to question him where they might be overheard. “I have news, but we’ll talk later.”
His face pinched as he climbed aboard the tram. He sank into a seat with an audible sigh.
She bit back her concern to gaze out the window. Tenements whizzed past, laundry strung out on balconies to dry. A stiff breeze made the fabrics billow like so many sails. Kids tossed a ball on a concrete lot, their lone playground. They dodged puddles on the ground, remnants from the storm.
Debris scattered the area, tree branches and broken awnings and trash. As they got closer toward town, hilly streets bustled with people laden with shopping bags. Vendor stalls that had been folded away for the tempest now thrived with customers.
“Where should we get off?” Jen asked Paz.
He didn’t respond. He’d closed his eyes and slumped in his seat.
“Paz, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”
“I’ve been shot.” His voice quaked. It appeared to be an effort for him even to speak.
“Dear Lord. Where─?”
“My leg.” A groan escaped his lips as their tram hit a pothole.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No way. Take me back to the hostelry.” Before they’d left, Jen had reserved their suite for a couple of extra nights just in case they needed a safe place to stay again.
Her pulse raced. There went her hope to exchange information and then catch a flight home. She figured Paz could find someone in Hong Kong to provide him with a passport. But her warrior was in no condition to go anywhere.
She considered their only other option.
“That dog, Dikibie, said he’d give us a ship if we got him a drop of dragon blood. Do you believe him?”
“Even if I did, I’m in no shape to fight a dragon.”
“We have to get you fixed up.”
“No medics. I wouldn’t be able to explain the scorch mark.”
“Scorch mark?”
“I got hit by phase weapon fire.”
She swallowed, panic tightening her throat. “So what should we do?”
“I’ll treat my wound in the hotel room.”
Somehow he managed the short walk from the tram stop to their hotel. Jen got curious stares from strangers as she guided the feeble old man, her arm around his waist for support.
Once inside their suite, Paz slipped the backpack from his shoulders, tore off his disguise, and collapsed on the bed.
Jen disengaged her purse and pack and then rushed to his side. He lay sprawled out and unconscious.
“Paz, wake up.” She shook him, frantic with worry.
On the nightstand stood the radio he’d remodeled to emit a high frequency signal to repel the Trolleks. At least they wouldn’t be disturbed by the beasts in here.
His face looked so pale. She surveyed the crescent of his lashes, the strong angles of his jaw, and the perfect shape of his mouth. She missed his dimples when he flashed a sexy grin.
Her breath caught in her throat. Would he be all right?
She’d come to think of him as her warrior. Someone who was there for her, who would fight to protect her, and who worried about her safety. Someone whose kisses turned her knees to jelly and sent her heart into a flutter.
Her heart. He’d captured it despite her resistance.
He was the last man she’d expected to want, an alien from outer space, a foreigner on home soil, and a man who had no real ambition to rise above his station. And yet he was so much more. He had courage and valor and many unusual skills. Didn’t he realize his own worth? Was she wrong in thinking he might be hiding something from her?
If this was the entire package, maybe she could convince him to reach for a greater goal, but first he had to survive.
She stared at the scorch mark on his pants, wondering what to do. A lie sprang to her lips, and she reached for the phone.
“Hello? Do you have a doctor on call? My, er, husband has injured himself and needs immediate medical care. We’d like someone who can come to our room.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send someone straight up,” the front office clerk said in fluent English.
Jen replaced the phone then rushed around to straighten the room and hide away anything that looked otherworldly.
At the sound of a bold knock, she flew to the door and peered through the viewport. A short, dark-haired Chinese man holding a leather satchel greeted her with a solemn nod when she swung the door wide.
“Hello, I am Dr. Wong. I understand someone is injured?” He spoke with a lilt in accented English.
Jen led him inside. “Yes, it’s my husband. Foolish me,” she babbled, “I dropped my curling iron onto his leg. It’s left a terrible burn mark. I hope you have something to treat it.”
“I’ll do my best.” After setting down his bag, he approached the patient. His mouth curved down in dismay as he separated the burnt edges of Paz’s jeans and peered at the wound. “That is a large injury, miss.”
Jen held her breath. Would he question her story?
“We need to cut his pants away.” He withdrew a pair of bandage scissors from his bag and proceeded to cut through the fabric. Watching him brought to mind a vision of the fabric sash wrapped around the officer’s neck at Shirajo Manor. Jen swallowed. She didn’t want to be reminded of that now.
“Shall I remove his boots?” she asked.
“Not yet. Let me examine the gentleman first.” Dr. Wong exposed Paz’s thigh just as he began to stir.
The doctor reached into his bag and withdrew a prepared syringe. He injected Paz in the arm.
“What’s that?” Jen had never been very useful in the sickroom department and sometimes preferred ignorance to knowledge. That wasn’t the case this time. She’d do whatever it took to heal Paz.
“An analgesic for the pain.” He studied the wound while Paz’s eyes blinked open, stared blurredly at Jen, then closed aga
in. “I need to clean the site, debride the dead tissue, and then treat him with antibiotics.”
Jen saw him hesitate. “That’s fine. Is there a problem?”
His gaze scrutinized her. “I am surprised you did not take this injured man to a hospital, but I understand insurance can be a problem.”
“We can pay, if that worries you.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “I would like to recommend one more remedy, but it is costly.”
“What’s that?” She wished he’d get on with the treatment already instead of talking.
“Dragon Balm. It has been used in China for generations.”
“What does it do?” She didn’t know much about Chinese medicine except their techniques often worked.
The doctor removed supplies from his bag and set up a sterile field. “The ointment speeds recovery and prevents infection, as well as providing pain relief. One ounce costs a hundred and fifty American dollars.”
She blinked. “What? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It is very rare and made from a secret family formula. Rumor says it comes from real dragon spit.” He peered at her. “Also good for wrinkles and joint pains.”
“Ah, sure.” Like snake oil claims of old?
She couldn’t tell from his expression whether Dragon Balm was a genuine medication or a scam. If it made Paz worse, she could always complain to the management and get some antibiotic cream on her own. Then again, traditional Chinese medicine was a respected and valid practice.
“We’ll take one container. Do you accept credit cards?”
Dr. Wong grinned broadly. “I do. I have a mobile credit card reader. Very modern.” He laid out his instruments on a sterile pad and then donned a pair of Latex gloves.
Jen turned away while he cleansed and debrided the wound. “You say this ointment comes from an old family formula?”
He focused on his work. “Ra Mat, a local herbalist, developed it in the late 1870’s. His sons built Dragon Balm Gardens up on the hill as a tourist attraction. Now his great-grandson Shlom owns the property.”
Her interest piqued. “So this medicine has been around for that long?” It had to have some therapeutic effects.
“Some say a dragon trapped underground is the source of its secret ingredient. Many have tried to find this beast but failed.” He lifted his head to regard her. “I believe the rumor was created to spur business. No matter; Dragon Balm works. Attempts to analyze its components have not proved fruitful.”
Falling silent, she paced the floor. Dikibie the dog─and she felt like an idiot calling him that─had demanded a drop of dragon’s blood from a creature who lived on the mountain. Was there truth, then, in the doctor’s tale?
Paz couldn’t travel in his current condition, and she had no idea where to get a false passport even when he recovered. If there was any kernel of truth in what the Gatekeeper said, she should follow it through. Jen didn’t see that she had a choice.
Torn between wanting to do the right thing and longing to go home, she considered what would happen when she arrived in New York. She’d check in at work, catch up on mail, and confirm their plans for Fashion Week. All of that seemed so mundane compared to invaders from another dimension.
And if that had proven real, why not a dragon?
“How long until he recovers?” she asked after the doctor had finished his work and she’d settled their bill.
Paz lay slumbering peacefully, his wound clean and bound. Dr. Wong had helped her remove his boots and the tattered remains of his clothes. He rested under the sheet in his underwear.
“For his injured tissue to heal completely, six to eight weeks. For your man to get back on his feet, a day or two. Twice a day, clean the wound, apply the ointment, and put on a fresh dressing as I showed you. Advise your husband to take it slow.”
Jen felt warmed by his use of the word, husband. “Thank you so much, doctor. And please, keep this visit confidential between us. If anyone asks─”
“Yes, I know. He had a serious burn from a curling iron.” Dr. Wong winked before turning on his heel and departing.
Jen shut and locked the door, then spun around. With Paz settled, she could take care of herself.
She showered and washed her hair, changing afterward into her sole nightshirt. Another trip to the shopping mall was in order should they have to stay here much longer.
In the meantime, she called the airport just in case Paz made a miraculous recovery and she found a black market vendor for fake passports. Flights were still backed up from the storm, and one of the runways remained closed.
So she called her Dad, reassured by the hearty sound of his voice. “It’s going to take me a few more days to get there.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Jennifer. Where are you?”
“We’re still in Hong Kong. All the flights are booked.”
“I hope you’re not delaying your return because you’ve shacked up with that guy you mentioned. Our company is facing a serious challenge, and you’re needed at home.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t understand. Your cousin Clifford is attempting to compromise your shares with false accusations.”
Her grip tightened on the receiver. “Exactly what is he saying about me?”
Robert Dyhr cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Your mother and I must speak to you in person before you confront the Board. If you don’t show up soon, they’ll accelerate the vote and approve the merger without you.”
“Why can’t I just send a proxy?”
“It’s a personal issue. You need to reassure the directors of your position and quell Cliff’s influence.”
“I’ll get there soon as I can.”
“Let me send our company jet this time.”
“That won’t help. The airport is having issues. Besides, Paz lost his passport.”
“Oh, great. How well do you know this guy? I hope he isn’t taking advantage of you.”
Jen gritted her teeth. “You can check him out for yourself when I bring him home.” Static sounded on the line.
“What? You’re bringing him here?”
“You heard me.” She’d love to see the look on her parents’ faces when she introduced them to Paz.
More static. “This connection is bad. Why don’t you buy a cell phone with an international plan? I need to be able to reach you.”
“I’ll think about it. Gotta go, Dad. Love you.” She rang off before he had a chance to question her further.
After replacing the phone in its cradle, she sat on the free bed and folded her hands in her lap. Facing down dragons seemed easy in comparison to facing the music at home. Maybe she should ask Paz if a permanent place on his team was available.
Then again, what skills did she have to offer? Her fashion sense? Nor could she turn her back on the career she’d worked so hard to build.
A moan from Paz drew her attention. A few quick strides took her to his side. She sank down next to him, stretching out lengthwise.
His warmth penetrated her skin, providing a sense of comfort. He made her feel useful, even when she stumbled along not knowing her way. His lovemaking made her feel special, especially when the shy, plain girl inside craved approval. And his strength made her feel protected, even when she was the one caring for him.
She stroked his arm, relishing the solidness of his muscle and the maleness of his hair-roughened skin. Burying her face in his shoulder, she prayed for his swift recovery.
Right now, getting him better was the only thing that mattered.
Then they had a dragon to slay.
Chapter Sixteen
It took two days for Paz to be back on his feet enough for them to attempt a trip to Dragon Balm Gardens. He still walked with a limp, but the wound was starting to fill in. It hurt like hell as the effects of the ointment wore off. He hoped to buy a few more pots of it at the park.
They didn’t know what to expect so took along their f
ull gear to be prepared. Aware this was another tourist attraction, he didn’t want to take chances. Who knew what scourge would lurk in the shadows?
He would have scoffed at the notion of a dragon if the talking canine hadn’t mentioned one first. If the creature truly existed, they would get the dragon’s blood and bring it to the shapeshifter. Hopefully, he would keep his promise to reward them with a ship.
It all sounded absurd, but so did everything else about this mission. He’d ceased to wonder at the mystical aspects and just focused on his immediate tasks.
He glanced at Jen, who stood beside him in line at the ticket booth. She could have caught a flight home later this afternoon but refused to leave him. His heart swelled at her loyalty, knowing how important it was for her to get to Florida. She’d argued with her father as a result of the delay.
Guilt assailed him, but he brushed it aside. Even without his influence, Jen was involved in this battle. If not for him, she’d be dead by now.
And vice versa. He had little recollection of getting back to the hotel from Manga World. She’d taken charge of his care, waiting on him and treating his wound as the healer showed her. Her steadfastness, devotion to duty, and adaptability broke every preconceived notion he’d had about spoiled, rich women.
He wouldn’t call the females he normally dated ladies, but Jen suited the term. She carried herself with confidence, looked fabulous in anything she wore, and took charge when necessary without blinking an eye.
Normally he avoided women with a lifestyle similar to his cool, distant mother. But Jen was different. She had heart, and somewhere along the way in their short relationship, she’d stolen his. Her gentle touch bespoke her true nature, and it belied the worldly image she presented.
He supposed her job required her to appear as sleek and sophisticated as her models, but inside hid a woman with vulnerabilities like his own. Maybe they were more alike than they realized.
Hoping to still accompany her home via a commercial airliner, he’d left their room earlier to hunt for a passport. His inquiries drew the wrong kind of attention. Instead of making contact with a black market dealer, he saw one fellow signal an enforcer. Police officer, he corrected himself.
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