by C J Matthew
Refocusing the camera on the sedan, she clicked another photo of the well-muscled Asian man waiting in the no-parking zone.
She hadn’t planned for a stakeout, let alone packed supplies for one. This morning’s goal had been to locate Devlin’s condo and do a simple drive by. The man’s road-trip around the bay with his bodyguard had come as a surprise. She almost didn’t recognize him, sitting in the front seat of the plain—and she suspected customized—vehicle. Now she was caffeine deprived, hungry, and would soon be in need of a bathroom. After which, she’d get the extra-large coffee she craved.
What the…? At the corner of the apartments, a movement in the shrubs caught her eye. She focused and took several pictures of a woman jogging away from the building, heading straight toward her. The runner wore a navy-blue hood pulled over her head which also worked to hide the edges of her face. Until the breeze caught it as the woman ran and slid the head cover off completely.
The normally pretty face of a currently terrified woman filled the camera view screen—her mouth gaping in a silent scream, cheeks splattered with tears—and Portia captured her image again. “Gottcha.”
The woman seemed to pull herself together, lengthen her stride and she pounded down a paved walkway toward the main street. A moment later, she crossed the road and disappeared into a stand of trees.
Portia hurriedly downloaded the photos to her phone when she spotted Devlin leaving the building by the front doors. While he covered the distance to the sedan, he made a thorough scan of the other cars in the lot.
Shit. Portia slunk down in her seat when Devlin stared directly at her, and his chin lifted. Damn it. Too late, he’d seen her. She started the car and sped from the lot. Where could she hide long enough to elude him? Top two places in Japan to disappear in the crowds on New Year’s Day? A popular temple, or a shopping mall.
Talk about a no brainer. With bathroom access and unlimited hot coffee? She chose the mall. Locking her camera bag and hat in the car trunk, she ducked into a small, secondary entrance. And grinned at the sight of the wide walkways reassuringly jammed with people. In the restroom, she freshened up and brushed her hat-hair into a long, sleek ponytail.
Back in the crush of the crowds, Portia practiced every evasive maneuver she’d ever read about or seen in a spy movie. Between frequent darting looks over her shoulder and watching the reflections in display windows, the faint headache from earlier began to throb. Rubbing her forehead, she changed directions, again. It looked like more fun when Jason Bourne did it.
Hurrying around a corner, she ran smack into Devlin Rudraige. He clasped her shoulders and frog-marched her to a shallow alcove in one wall. At least they were out of the worst shopper traffic.
“Happy New Year,” he said.
“Fuck you,” she muttered. Then, compressing her lips into a flat line, she glared at him. Dredging up faux anger wasn’t easy. The man was even more swoon-worthy in the bright lights of the mall. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, shone. The short beard begged to be stroked and she’d swear his mouth was more enticing than it had been last night. The big difference? Today she had a vivid memory of his kiss. Which amounted to serious motivation to pick up right where they’d left off.
Get tough. Standing her ground, she clenched her fists.
“Wait,” he said. “Before you beat the crap out of me, could we call a truce and talk?”
When she didn’t take a swing at him, or turn and run, he loosened his grip. Without really letting go of her.
“We haven’t been introduced,” he said. “I’m Devlin. And you are?” Last night he’d smelled of champagne, aftershave and hot male. Today, the primal scent of male was stronger, while the champagne and expensive aftershave had been replaced by toothpaste.
She stiffened her spine. “Not one bit charmed by the likes of you. Let me go.”
“First, I have a question or two.”
“I don’t have answers.”
“Let’s keep this conversation civil. Would it be easier over a cup of coffee?”
“Don’t bother. I’m not talking to you.”
“Pity. One way or another, we’re going to exchange a little information. I recommend you calm down and cooperate. Would you like to meet my bodyguard? I believe you have several pictures of him?”
Narrowing her eyes, she hissed, “How dare you threaten me. I’m not afraid of you or your goon.”
“My what? Wait, that wasn’t a threat. Yori saw you taking pictures. If they’re any good, he wants one to give to his girlfriend.” He gestured, Yori stepped forward, and bowed politely to her, then to Devlin.
“Okay mystery lady,” Devlin said, “be extra polite and introduce yourself to Yori.”
“I’m not falling for that.” She scowled at Devlin. “You think you’re slick, sneaky.” Angling herself toward the bodyguard, she extended her hand and said, “Yori, I apologize for following you and taking your picture without your permission. I’m not able to tell you my name without permission from my client.”
“I understand.” Yori bowed again. “Is it possible to declare a New Year truce?”
“Terrific idea,” Devlin agreed. “Perhaps you, my nameless beauty, could contact your employer. Obtain permission to tell me a little bit about what’s going on.” His wicked half-smile had her thighs tingling.
No way would Obasan think a truce with Devlin was a good idea. Still, it might be worth a phone call to find out.
“I’ll give it a try,” Portia said, stepping away from Devlin and Yori. She stared at the iPhone screen for several long moments. “Damn coward,” she muttered to herself under her breath. And texted Obasan.
Outed by Rudraige and his bodyguard. He’ll answer questions if I do. How much may I tell him?
Shouldn’t be much of a problem considering how little Obasan had shared with her.
The response flashed back, “Nothing about me.”
“I promise.”
Portia deleted the texts and rejoined Devlin. “A temporary and partial truce,” she said.
“Excellent, come with me.”
She expected they’d brave the popular food court area. Instead, Devlin escorted her upstairs to a tea shop. With little tables inside and out, it resembled a French sidewalk café. Yori commandeered an inside corner table and Devlin pulled out a chair for her.
“Can Yori get you some tea?” he asked. “Or coffee?”
“Coffee please.” She sat, and said to Yori, “Before you go, my name is Portia. Portia Sullivan. I’m here in Japan for a job interview. Unrelated to that, a dear friend asked me to do a favor and keep an eye on Mr. Rudraige for a few days.” She shook Yori’s hand. When the bodyguard went to the counter to order, she half-turned and reluctantly extended her hand to Devlin. Touching this man was dangerous.
He clasped her fingers in his warm hand. A tiny shock sent a shiver of awareness racing through her. Heart pounding, she tugged to free her hand, but he tightened his hold.
“What was that?” she breathed.
“Nice, wasn’t it?” He slowly raised an eyebrow. “No apology for me?”
She felt the heat of a blush flood her cheeks, but she snapped, “Aren’t you used to people following you, taking your picture?” Her hand tingled where his thumb stroked it.
“Not anyone as beautiful as you,” he murmured. Jeez, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his tempting lips. “And last night,” he drawled, “at the party…”
Whoa. She blinked, forced herself to attention, and sat straighter. “By my reckoning, last night came to a draw. Unless you feel the need to apologize to me?”
“Oh Hell, no.” The half-smile, half-smirk was back, and he epitomized the classic bad boy. “I feel an overwhelming need to find a secluded spot and kiss you senseless.”
She forced herself to look away, tried ignoring him.
He gently squeezed her hand. “Why does this friend of yours need you to keep an eye on me?”
“I’m not giving you any more informa
tion about the favor.”
“Then would you care to explain why you kissed me at the party?”
She huffed, shot him a look of utter distain. “That wasn’t related to the favor at all. It was obviously a momentary lapse in judgement on my part. A stupid, impulsive mistake.”
“If that was a mistake, we need to try it again, when you mean it.”
“We need to both forget it ever happened.”
“Not possible.” He gazed into her eyes and lowered his voice, “Portia, do you believe in fate?”
Yori arrived, carrying a tray loaded down with bowls of traditional Japanese New Year’s food, a pot of coffee, cups, and utensils. After he transferred everything to the table, he started to move away. Devlin motioned for the bodyguard to join them.
“We’re going to take full advantage of the truce,” Devlin announced. “Share as much information as possible and bring everyone up to date.”
Devlin was quiet for a few moments while Yori poured the coffee and they dug into the steaming, delicious food.
A few minutes into the meal, Devlin set his hashi on top of his bowl and looked directly at her. “I’m also doing a favor for someone. A confidential favor, so I need to be careful about sharing too many details. Anyway, after a fair amount of research, I’ve narrowed my list of concerns down to two.”
He hesitated. “Two very dangerous men,” he finally added.
Portia put down her coffee. “Meaning, if I continue to tail you, that could put me in danger?”
“Very likely.”
Chapter 5
Devlin
Devlin gave Portia and her deductive reasoning a positive nod. “I wanted to know why you’re following me to confirm there’s no connection. The two men we suspect of criminal activity share an apartment near the port. Yori and I were at that particular building earlier to see exactly where the two men live. And that should about wrap up the favor I agreed to, end my obligation.”
“Should?”
“Well, I’ll admit at this point I’m a bit intrigued. As I approached the apartment, 3 C, a woman ran out. I didn’t get a good look at—”
“In a navy jacket?” Portia leaned closer. “With the hood pulled over her head and covering most of her face?”
“That’s the one.”
“I got a great photo shot of her running straight toward my car.”
“Would you share the picture?”
“Absolutely,” she said, then she seemed to hesitate. “Um, my camera is in the truck of my car. Do you know what her relationship is to the two men?”
“No. Only that she was in their apartment, appeared to be upset and in a hurry. She left the door open. When I glanced in, the front room, at least, had been completely tossed. I’d guess she or someone before her had been searching for something.”
“Do you suppose it involves smuggling?” She sounded breathless.
“Sorry Portia, I can’t say any more,” Devlin apologized. “Not without betraying my friend’s trust.”
“I understand completely,” she said, yet her bottom lip stuck out. “Could you at least tell me what you suspect the two men are up to?”
“Sorry.” Shit. He was coming across to his mate as the uncooperative bad guy.
“Excuse me,” Yori said, leaning closer. “Miss Sullivan, when you agreed to tail Mr. Rudraige as a favor, was it because he is suspected of some wrongdoing and you’re taking photos as proof?”
“Oh no.” she protested immediately. “It’s not that way at all.” The muscles in her jaw clenched. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath. “I’m only—”
The burner phone in Devlin’s pocket buzzed and he cursed silently. He wanted to hear Portia’s explanation. Reaching for the phone, he checked the incoming number. Thank god, it was Shinsuke.
Holding up his index finger to Portia and Yori, he murmured, “Excuse me, I’ll only be gone a minute or two.” He answered the call on his way to a semi-quiet spot near the recycling bins.
Devlin spoke quickly, explaining the crew connections he’d discovered. And emphasized his alarm over the potential four-day time frame. “If the two crewmen, Haufmann and Hoffman, are your pair of bombers, the one currently at sea still has plenty of time to set another explosive.”
“I understand,” Shinsuke assured him, “and I can’t thank you enough Devlin-san for the timely alert. I intend to contact our ship’s captain immediately, to warn him.”
“Good idea. I added the results of my computer research to your USB drive and I have it with me.”
“May I send Mr. Hana, my security chief, to meet you and retrieve it?”
“Sure.” Devlin named the mall he was in. “We’ll be here for another thirty minutes or so. Or after that I could be somewhere near my office? Or yours?”
“No, that mall is ideal. Mr. Hana is nearby. Where would you prefer to contact him, in say, fifteen minutes?”
“How about the customer service offices?”
“Mr. Hana will be there with official Ichiban Shipping ID. After my people and I have examined your data and conclusions, then tomorrow we can layout our future plan of action.”
Our plan? Crap. His involvement in Shinsuke’s issues needed to end. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” Devlin said and hung up.
A glance at the table told him Portia was also on the phone. Yori had stepped back, while still managing to hover. Devlin pocketed the burner phone and scrubbed his hands over his face. The favor for Shinsuke and Ichiban Shipping kept getting more complicated. Developing beyond what he’d had in mind. More than he was willing to take on.
Providing Shinsuke with a solid assist in specialized computer work was one thing. He was able to pass along valuable information. The Ichiban security team should be able to take it from there, put a stop to any sabotage from here on out.
Actually tracking down bombs and apprehending criminals was a mite too risky to fall under the heading of a personal favor. Also, the last thing he and Muirdris needed was trouble with the local Police. Not to mention, Devlin was a busy man. True, he had a clear calendar for the next couple of days but after that, he was booked solid again. If Shinsuke came up with any plan that involved direct action on Devlin’s part, he’d have to decline.
He watched Portia chew on her thumb nail as she listened to the person on the other end of her call. She was beyond beautiful. Her smooth skin had a warm, sun kissed glow, and the oval face created a perfect setting for wide hazel-colored eyes and lush lips. Her abundant hair, dark and shiny, was tied back at the nape of her neck and from there, fell arrow straight down her back to her waist.
Devlin drew in a shaky breath. This magnificent creature was his destined mate. The one woman in the world fated to spend an entire dragon’s lifetime being loved, cherished, and protected by him and loving him in return.
He’d experienced an inkling of her importance to him during that smoldering New Year’s Eve kiss, while his dragon had identified her instantly. Deep down he’d hoped that on some level she would’ve recognized him. No such luck. She wasn’t any kind of shifter, and she knew nothing about mates. Not surprising since the existence of dual-natured beings was a closely guarded secret worldwide.
Best to focus on learning as much about her as possible. The only option for him was to go slow, take things step by step, allow Portia as much time as she needed to fall in love with him. He covertly adjusted his pants to accommodate his half-erection and blew out a quietly disgusted “Yeah, right.” Slow? Considering the overwhelming lust and physical desire she unknowingly inspired, his immediate future looked painful.
Cousin Murdoch had been the first of their hybrid sea serpent/dragon clan to find his mate. A human woman, stubborn and independent. According to the gossip circulating through the clan, Murdoch had his hands full trying to protect the woman. And he’d finally been forced to show her his dragon before she believed him.
Since he’d realized Portia was his mate, it didn’t matter what she believed or how she
felt about him, it was imperative that he keep her from harm. Even if that meant talking her out of continuing with the favor she was performing. Somehow, he had to convince her to trust him so he could guide her away from any and all dangerous projects and pitfalls.
Devlin strode to the table as Portia put her phone away in her bag.
“Good news,” he said. “I spoke to the person I did the computer work for and he’s sending an associate here to the mall to retrieve his—”
“The person,” she said, “who asked me to follow you is insisting on a face to face report from me. Today.” She rose to her feet. “So, I need to go. Thank you for—”
“Wait, Portia.” Devlin’s breath caught in his throat. She was leaving? He didn’t have her phone number. Or an address where she was staying. “Why don’t I pick you up for an early dinner? Let me show you the sunset from a quiet restaurant on the coast. And we can compare notes on the outcomes of our favor-based projects?”
Her brow wrinkled and she seemed to ponder the invitation. “It’ll need to be an early evening.”
He pulled out his personal iPhone. “Text me with the time and place to pick you up. And when you decide to call it a night, I’ll take you straight home.”
“All right.” She added his number to her phone and texted him with the name and address of her hotel. “I’ll let you know what time I’ll be available as soon as I’m finished with business.”
She shook hands with Yori and then with him. Devlin’s palm tingled as he stood beside his chair and watched her walk away until she disappeared down the stairs.
Yori gave a discreet cough. “I could call in another bodyguard. Keep a soft tail on her, just to be safe.”
“What?” Devlin swung around and mentally replayed Yori’s words. “Tempting,” he whispered half to himself. “No. Thanks for the thought, Yori, but no. Let’s pass along the memory stick and get out of here. I need to restock my kitchen if there’s a chance I’ll be having a house guest.”