Devlin

by C J Matthew

  He dug in his heels and they both stopped moving. Facing her, he looked deep into her eyes.

  “It’s because I care about you, Portia. Lock the door behind me. Stay safe tonight. Please call when you wake up.”

  He stood outside her hotel room and listened as the flimsy lock clicked closed. After several minutes, he walked in slow motion to the elevator and stopped. Turning back around, he returned to her door and stood watching it and the empty hallway.

  “Idiot,” he whispered to himself. “Go home, get some sleep.”

  The dragon went wild. Do not leave our mate here. Bad place. Danger.

  After a pitched internal battle, he rode the elevator to the lobby. Still no one at the desk. Through the glass front door, Devlin spotted the police rousting a drunk sprawled on the sidewalk, wine bottle still clutched on his hand.

  Devlin did an about face and raced up the stairs to the third floor.

  Not one word, he warned the dragon. You’re right. We’re standing guard outside her door tonight because, for once, you are absolutely correct.

  The next morning, the ding of the elevator’s arrival at the third floor woke Devlin from a restless doze. He scrambled to his feet as the lift door slid open and two men in suits, one Japanese, the other African American, walked toward him.

  “Mr. Devlin Rudraige?” The Japanese man held up police ID. “Sergeant Sakaguchi, Prefecture police. And this is Mr. Marcus Jefferson, liaison with the US embassy.”

  Jefferson, a tall bear of a man extended his huge hand and shook. His beaming smile appeared sincere. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Rudraige. I’m here as a volunteer, nothing official, except to remind you, before you answer any of the Sergeant’s questions, that you are entitled to legal counsel—”

  “Wait.” Devlin held up a hand. “First, call me Devlin.” He arched a brow at Jefferson, who said, “I’m Marc and the honorable Sergeant here usually answers to Sak.”

  “Great,” Devlin went on, “and thanks for the almost Miranda warning but since I haven’t broken any laws, I have every intention of answering all of...er…Sak’s questions without legal advice.”

  Sak straightened and impaled Devlin with a steely gaze. “What was the nature of your business at the Water-side Apartment complex yesterday morning?”

  Both the Sergeant’s demeanor and his air of command were impressive.

  “Warned you,” Marc muttered.

  “Good call, Marc.” He turned his attention to the policeman. “Let me ask you one question first, Sak. How did you know where to find me this morning? Or did you come to this hotel seeking a different witness to question?”

  Sak slid one terrific poker face into place. “I’m not at liberty to discuss—”

  “Let me save us all some time and trouble,” Devlin said. “Sak, I believe you’re here to question another US citizen, a Ms. Portia Sullivan. My errand this morning is to pick up the same Ms. Sullivan.”

  Maintaining his police composure, Sak asked, “Is Ms. Sullivan here now?”

  “Yes,” Devlin nodded. “Now tell me what this is about. Ms. Sullivan and I happened to see each other outside the apartment complex yesterday. I entered the building, went as far as the door of a third-floor apartment, but no one was home.”

  Sak didn’t blink. “Not quite accurate, Mr. Rudraige. You were accompanied by your daytime bodyguard who remained in the car. Ms. Sullivan did arrive, but it was after you. She parked and never left her vehicle. Another woman was seen leaving the same apartment you visited. She ran from the building, past the spot where Ms. Sullivan was in her car taking pictures.”

  “Ah, CCTV cameras?” Devlin guessed.

  “Further,” Sak announced in a deadly calm voice, “The woman who ran was subsequently struck by a vehicle. Hit and run. She was admitted to the hospital in critical condition.”

  “Damn.”

  “Either answer my questions fully and truthfully or I will detain you and Ms. Sullivan.”

  Chapter 10

  Portia

  Portia hurried to finish dressing. The minute she’d turned off the shower, she heard muffled voices in the hallway outside her room. Dressed but with her wet hair wrapped in a towel turban, she tiptoed across the tiny room. No need to press her ear to the door. The walls were so thin, she easily recognized Devlin’s voice.

  Damn the man. She hadn’t called him yet this morning because she wanted to give herself a little quiet thinking time. With hair as long and thick as hers, blow-drying provided plenty of opportunity for reflection.

  She’d been right about sex with Devlin. The man was a master without a trace of smug superiority. He’d made certain she was satisfied and boy, was she. But when he wasn’t curling her toes with his magic tongue or oversized cock, he exhibited a protective streak that was down-right grating. Sure, she knew from past experiences, it could be difficult for a big strong guy to believe she was capable of taking care of herself.

  To his credit, she knew Devlin tried, which seemed to make the situation worse. The man could push her buttons. Like this morning. Why couldn’t he wait for her to call like they’d planned? What the hell was he doing just showing up? Loitering outside her room so freaking early?

  Gritting her teeth, she jerked open the door.

  Devlin was talking to two men in business suits, and at the sound of the door opening, they all turned to her. A beat later, three pairs of eyes tracked up to stare at the towel crowning her head.

  “Good morning,” Devlin said, seeming to dismiss the wrapped hair. “My turn to introduce everyone. Portia Sullivan, may I present Sak, Sergeant Sakaguchi of the Prefecture police, and Marc Jefferson with the embassy. I’m pretty sure Sak wants to question both of us. And we want to cooperate fully. But preferably not here. I could go for a comfortable place that serves topnotch coffee.”

  Portia shivered. Shit. A policeman? With a US embassy official in tow? What the hell did that mean? She was in Japan on a visitor visa, for a job interview. What if Ichiban Shipping heard about her involvement with the police? She transferred her gaze to the Sergeant. “What do you need to ask me?”

  “Sweetheart,” Devlin interrupted, “I’m sure Sak wants to talk to us separately. Right, Sergeant? So, I recommend we move this interrogation to my condo. If Portia and I travel in separate cars there won’t be any tainting of witnesses. Also, that puts you, Sak, back in your jurisdiction and I can guarantee the quality and unlimited supply of hot fresh coffee.”

  Sak frowned. “Or we could use an office at National Police headquarters.”

  “Hear me out, Sak,” Devlin said. “I’m about to offer you an impressive degree of cooperation.” He glanced at her. “Where is your car, darling?”

  She stepped on his toe and hissed, “Don’t call me that.”

  He winced and stuck out his hand “Car keys?”

  Reaching into her room, she grabbed the plastic key fob off the scratched dresser. Back in the hall, when she held out the keys to Devlin, he pointed to Sak. “To him. And give Sak your verbal permission to examine and run tests on the exterior of your car.”

  She exhaled a deep sigh. “Somebody will explain all this later, right?” She handed over the keys to the rental. “Check anything on the outside,” she added.

  Devlin passed his sedan keys to the Sergeant. “My car is parked right outside. The same vehicle my bodyguard was driving yesterday. Have your lab techs check every inch of the exterior?”

  “Smart move,” Marc muttered under his breath.

  “Did you ride here with Sak?” Devlin asked him.

  “No, we came in two cars.” He appeared to give Devlin a slight nod.

  “As witnesses, Portia and I need to split up for the journey to my house. I’ll go with Sak if she can ride with you?”

  Without waiting for an okay from Marc, Devlin asked Sak, “Do all the arrangements meet with your approval?”

  “Yes.” Sak directed his next remark to Portia. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Sulliv
an. I will instruct the lab personnel to finish your car first and deliver it to Mr. Rudraige’s house. That way, after I have my questions answered, you may go on with your plans for the day.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” She did her best to beam approval at him. “How very thoughtful. I have a job interview today and I don’t want to be late.”

  At Devlin’s condo, she and Sak were met in the lobby by Yori. She introduced the two men and Yori ushered them upstairs and into the library where the fireplace was blazing. The bodyguard indicated the wing back chair closest to the fire was her place. A stack of fluffy towels topped by an antique tortoise shell comb and hairbrush, sat on the round table beside her chair.

  Between her seat and Sak’s, a squat marble-topped table held a pot of steaming coffee, two mugs and cream and sugar.

  “Dark magic?” she murmured.

  Sak made a gurgling sound—a chuckle?—and confided, “Mr. Rudraige called his house staff from my car.”

  The Sergeant explained about the hit and run. “A witness claims it looked deliberate rather than merely an accident.” Which apparently prompted the opening of a criminal case. “The investigators identified Mr. Rudraige’s sedan from the CCTV cameras in the Water-side parking lot. And your rental car as well. Why were you there?”

  “This is going to sound frivolous compared to that poor woman’s injuries in a hit and run.”

  “Just tell me the truth.”

  “I will, I swear.” She smiled while mentally crossing her fingers. The truth but not the whole truth.

  Solemn again, she said, “Devlin and I were both at the Skytree Tower New Years Eve party. Not together. Before that night, we’d never met. When the countdown started, I was drawn to him, got right in his face and we shared a kiss.”

  She pressed her palms to flushed cheeks. “I was really embarrassed but also really attracted. The next morning, I went on-line, dug up the address of his condo, and drove over here just to check it out. When I saw him leave, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to follow him.”

  She took a long swallow of coffee and started running the brush through damp tangles of hair. “I parked in the lot and took pictures. Yori stayed with the car while Devlin went inside for a few minutes. I saw, took pictures of the woman running out of the side door, and across the lot.”

  The Sergeant asked for a description. She went into as much detail as she could remember. “When was the last time you saw the running woman?”

  “It all happened fast. After the parking lot, she disappeared into some trees.”

  “And Mr. Rudraige?”

  “He came out the main front door a few seconds after the woman ran into the trees. I was afraid he’d spotted me, so I drove away right then. Went to the mall.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” the Sergeant said after asking a few follow-up questions. “I’m not taking your passport but don’t leave Japan without permission.

  “I won’t,” Portia assured him and dismissed, went looking for Yori. Instead, she found Devlin in the kitchen.

  He came around the island, rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking.”

  “Devlin?” Yori’s voice came softly through a hidden speaker.

  Devlin looked up. “Is Sak ready for me?”

  “In the library.”

  “Please call and find out if Portia’s car has been released.” Devlin moved closer to her and her heart sped up. She sprouted goose bumps when he whispered in her ear.

  “Please say you’ll stay here? At least until we figure out who the enemy really is.”

  She gave him her snarkiest eye roll, but whispered, “Under protest, I will.”

  Louder, Devlin said, “Yori?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Send someone to pick up all of Portia’s belongings at the hotel. Check her out and bring everything here so she can dress for her interview in comfort.”

  “Will do.”

  Devlin kissed her and strode away.

  Good decision, she decided. Bet the master bathroom in this place is to die for.

  Oh sure. She was jeopardizing her future sanity by agreeing to stay with the world’s sexiest billionaire, because of his superior plumbing? She grinned at the double entendre.

  Her iPhone beeped. Caller ID said: Shinsuke-san. Uh-oh.

  “Hello?” Cupping her hand around the phone, she hurried out of the kitchen to duck into the powder room. “Hello?”

  “Portia?” It was Michael Shinsuke, President of Ichiban Worldwide. “I tried calling Devlin but he’s not answering. I need to postpone our interview.” His voice quavered, and he seemed to struggle for each breath. “There’s been a… security-breach, a break-in…at Ichiban’s corporate office. I…”

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 11

  Devlin

  Devlin recognized the hurried footsteps outside the library and was on his feet when Portia burst into the room, her face white, hands trembling.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, reaching for her.

  “Uncle Michael’s in trouble. I need to go.”

  “We will, in one minute. Who is Michael?”

  “Not really a relative, he’s like an honorary uncle. Michael Shinsuke. He just called.” Seeming to recall something, her eyes grew wider. “He said he tried calling you first, Devlin. He was out of breath. Something about a break-in at Ichiban Headquarters. Then the line cut off.” She squeezed his hands. Hard. “Now. I have to go now.”

  “Okay. Let’s remember, we have a policeman right here.”

  They looked over at Sak who was already on his phone, ordering a police unit to check the Ichiban building and locate Michael Shinsuke.

  Sak disconnected his call, “The patrol is four minutes from the Ichiban offices. They’ll call me back with an update as soon as they know anything.”

  From the corner where he’d been quietly listening, Marc rose slowly to his feet and asked, “Devlin, how well do you know Michael Shinsuke?”

  Shit. Devlin ignored both Marc and Sak. Instead he concentrated on Portia and directed his answer to her.

  “Shinsuke is a business friend of mine. I was at the Water-side apartments following up on a favor he’d asked of me as a colleague. I wanted to check on two seamen, both named Hoffman and who both work for Ichiban.”

  Portia directed a faint smile up at him and his heart stuttered.

  “A small world,” she observed, “I’m here in Japan to visit Michael’s mother, Madame Shinsuke, who the family affectionately calls Obasan. She’s been my godmother since birth and my adopted grandmother since my parents died. My interview today is with Michael Shinsuke, for a position at Ichiban.”

  Portia’s phone buzzed and she jumped. “Hello?” Instead of turning away for more privacy, she leaned it and herself toward Devlin.

  Our mate needs us. The dragon pranced around, his version of an Irish jig, long tail bouncing in time to imaginary music.

  “Sweet child,” Obasan’s soft voice cooed through the phone. “Don’t be concerned. I am with my son now. Yes, he suffered a fright and our family physician is also here, checking him carefully. But he has regained his complexion, full of color again, and is complaining loudly.”

  “That’s a good sign?” Portia asked.

  “An excellent indication he is firmly on the path to complete recovery.”

  “Was he injured?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Obasan said. “He arrived at his office to find it ransacked but empty. Also, it appears nothing was taken.”

  “I hesitate to mention—”

  “Your interview? Another reason I’m calling you. In lieu of a postponement, Michael and I invite you to our home this evening. Around 5 p.m.? We can review the highlights of your contract, then have dinner. And will you invite Devlin Rudraige to join us? Or should I extend the invitation myself?”

  Portia glanced up and he nodded his
approval.

  “Devlin is happy to join us.”

  “Excellent. We’ll see you both at 5. Dress is casual.” The line disconnected.

  Devlin kept Portia pressed to his side, meeting the Sergeant’s hard stare with one of his own. “We are finished, aren’t we?”

  “Not yet. Have a seat and tell me what exactly Shinsuke asked you to do for him involving the Hoffman cousins?”

  Devlin sank onto the loveseat, pulling Portia down beside him. Across the room, Marc returned to his chair.

  “On New Year’s Eve, Michael confided in me,” Devlin said, “that Ichiban has recently experienced trouble on several of their ships. He asked me to review the data his security team had gathered and give him a second opinion. I did. His team and I arrived at the Hoffman men—cousins?—at nearly the same time. Assuming we’ve narrowed the suspect list down to the correct men, right now, one is on shore leave and the other is at sea. Yesterday, I walked by the Hoffman apartment just to see if I could see or hear the man on leave. The woman I was telling you about, the one who ran out while I was in the hallway, left the door open. On my word of honor, I did not step foot inside. I did, however, give the living room a quick look. It had been completely torn apart.”

  “Perhaps like Shinsuke’s office?” Sak asked.

  “I wouldn’t know.” Devlin wrestled with his anger. “I’ve never seen Shinsuke’s office. Not before, during, or after the break-in. We’ve told you everything, now may we go?”

  “One more detail, Mr. Rudraige.” Sak slowly lifted his chin. “As I told Ms. Sullivan, I won’t pull your passport, but—”

  “Damn right you won’t take my passport. Marc?”

  “Calm down, Devlin,” Marc soothed.

  “But,” the Sergeant raised his voice a notch and plowed ahead. “I’m asking you not to leave Japan until this is settled.”

  Devlin shot to his feet. “That’s bullshit. As a Far East Director of Muirdris Shipping, I refuse to—”

  “Excuse me,” Portia whispered. He barely heard her. Truthfully, what got his attention, stopped him cold in mid-rant, was her hand groping his ass.