Devlin

by C J Matthew

  “I asked to see yours.”

  “Sorry, I was distracted.”

  “Okay. Tell me.”

  “Each hybrid in our clan is a little different. I have a little more wingspan than the others and can fly short distances. I can’t carry anyone.”

  “Is that last part important? If no one else knows you’re a dragon, who’d be disappointed you couldn’t offer them a flight?”

  “I was thinking of you. After seeing dragons ridden, like Toothless or Drogon, or reading about it, the prospect seems to fascinate lots people.”

  “Well, good news. You’ve chosen exactly the right person to share your secret. I’m afraid of heights. Flying without a plane doesn’t tempt me in the least.”

  “Skytree tower didn’t bother you?”

  “I’m less terrified indoors, or enclosed. I must say, it took real courage to get close to you, standing by that window.”

  “So brave.”

  “Does it hurt to shift?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’d like to see your wings some day and…well, I’ll admit, I’m not totally sold on breathing underwater.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, that’s a huge leap of faith. Like believing I can become a sea dragon. Seeing it makes everything easier. We’ll get you the right protective gear, take it one step at a time. Like learning to swim.”

  He was the one who needed reminding: take one step at a time. Portia was enchanting and it was hard to resist moving fast.

  His iPhone beeped with a text from the front desk, condo security. He read it aloud: Mr. Shinsuke called. Requesting an urgent call back.

  “Go ahead,” Portia urged, lifting her head from his shoulder. I’ll—”

  “Please stay.”

  Devlin made the call and Michael answered on the first ring.

  “Thank you for returning my call promptly. My mother is here also. With your permission I’d like her to join us on speaker.”

  “Good.” He tapped his mate on the tip of her nose. “Madam Shinsuke and Michael, I’d like Portia included on the call as well.”

  After a round of greetings, Michael got straight to the point. “Devlin, I hesitate to ask this, but I no longer know who in my company I can trust. The Ichiban ship with Hoffman aboard, the Empress Pride, only has one more unloading stop to make in Taiwan, before heading to her home port of Yokohama. And we have no physical evidence tying Hoffman to a bomb or any crime.

  “If I make all the arrangements, create the paperwork and tender the proper excuses to the captain, would you fly to Taiwan, board my ship and search for any bit of evidence that would work to incriminate Hoffman? The minute you find anything, the captain will step in and detain Hoffman.”

  Shit. He feared this was coming. If he agreed to help Michael by going to Taiwan, Portia would insist on going with him. He had no right, no authority to refuse her. He couldn’t risk her safety for any reason.

  He squared his shoulders. He was about to disappoint his mate, but what other option did he have?

  “I’m sorry Michael. I regret to say, I can’t help you with this. Assuming Hoffman is guilty, it’s very possible he has a dangerous explosive with him and based on his past history, he intends to use it. It’s too dangerous.”

  Her lovely face emotionless, his mate leaned closer to the phone. “Obasan, please call me first thing in the morning with an update. Let me know what you and Michael decide to do. Maybe a private security company would agree to go undercover on the ship?”

  Devlin immediately spotted the holes in that plan.

  “Or, maybe there’s a way to remove Hoffman while the ship is in Taiwan?”

  What, like kidnapping? He admired her devotion to her adopted family and her willingness to do anything to help them. But this situation was hopeless.

  “Sleep well, granddaughter of my heart,” Madam Shinsuke cooed. “Do not allow worry to disturb you. Devlin is correct. This is a problem of Ichiban’s own making, and it is our responsibility to solve the issue. I will call you in the morning and I am certain I will have good news. I observed every tradition. Our New Year will be back on track.”

  “Good night.”

  After the call ended, Devlin tried to read Portia’s face; her body language. How disappointed was she in, what appeared to be, his refusal to put his life at risk for Michael’s ship?

  To clarify, should he try right now to explain what a mate meant to him? What keeping her safe meant to him?

  Already guilty of rushing her, he’d pushed too hard while smothering her with his overprotective nature. Maybe he needed to learn how to accept different people’s ways of arriving at decisions and honor those.

  For the immediate future, they’d get a good night’s sleep. Then in the morning, he’d tell her how much he loved her. If she seemed receptive, he’d explain all about mates.

  “I’m too tired to discuss it tonight,” she said, “but I know my godmother is right. Hoffman and his cousin are Ichiban problems. You did the right thing refusing to go to Taiwan. Good night.” She kissed him.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I need to make one fast call then I’ll join you.”

  Alone in the library, he watched the fire die and worried. When he finally tiptoed into the dark master bed room, he knew in an instant she wasn’t there.

  Other bedroom. Go with her.

  Maybe she is angry with me?

  Go.

  Okay, okay.

  Quietly making his way down the hall, Devlin silently opened the door to the first guest bedroom. He could just barely see Portia’s outline under the covers. The dragon wanted him to join her. Maybe he’d give her some well-deserved space. In the morning he’d surprise her with breakfast in bed.

  He awoke early. Before he tackled the job of cooking a big breakfast for his mate, he’d better make sure she was still asleep. He needed a head start in the kitchen.

  Retracing his steps to the guest room, he eased open the door.

  Portia wasn’t in this room. He knew at once and the dragon agreed. Nor was she in the ensuite bathroom. His heart pounding, he tried expanding his awareness. His mate was no longer in the condo.

  Terror slammed into him. He fought to catch his breath. Stumbling forward, he bumped into the foot of the bed. And saw the white envelope propped up against the pillow.

  Snatching it up, he tore the sealed flap open. Reading the first sentences, his eyes blurred.

  My dear Devlin,

  I meant what I said about you making the right decision.

  Ichiban’s problems are not yours. But they are mine.

  Last night I accepted Michel’s job offer and I’m flying to Taiwan.

  I’ll call you before I board the Empress Pride.

  Wish me luck.

  Love, Portia

  PS: Take good care of my broach. I want it back the minute I return.

  Chapter 16

  Portia

  Next morning, bleary eyed from lack of sleep, Portia rummaged through her travel bag in search of the little bank packet containing New Taiwan dollars. She’d exchanged some of her Yen at the Kaohsiung Airport. Ah ha, tucked inside her passport. With the smiling taxi driver paid, she slid out of the back seat, and hiked her duffel bag over one shoulder. She looked up at the gray clouds just as it started to snow. Crap.

  Officially she was here as a tourist. It had been the only way she could enter Taiwan on her US passport without applying for a visa. Visitor entry came with a limited stay of thirty days and she’d had to show her return ticket as proof of her departure date.

  Last night, as soon as Michael’s phone call to Devlin ended, she’d made up her mind. She’d been amazed to learned how much computer work Devlin had done to help Uncle Michael. How could anyone expect Devlin to drop everything, fly to Taiwan, sneak aboard somebody else’s container ship, and apprehend a bomber? It had been embarrassing when Michael suggested such a plan.

  She had a better idea: keep Ichiban problems in the family. First she’d acce
pt Uncle Michael’s job offer. As an Ichiban manager, she could board the Empress Pride, find enough proof to connect Hoffman with the explosions, and turn him over to the authorities.

  She’d need to hurry. After kissing Devlin good-night, she’d collected her duffel bag from the master bedroom, then moved to the guest room to make the calls. Michael had been overjoyed. Welcoming her to Ichiban, he’d scheduled her first day of orientation in two weeks.

  Portia hung up and immediately called Obasan’s private number. “Godmother? I hate to ask, but I seriously need your help.”

  “Don’t be silly, child. I know you are volunteering to save out company. I will assist any way I can.”

  “Great. I need a ticket on the next flight to Taiwan. I checked, and the Empress Pride is due to dock at the Port of Kaohsiung tomorrow.”

  “We’ll get you a flight to the Kaohsiung Airport. But not the next flight. These local airlines bounce around all over Asia. A non-stop from Narita/Tokyo to Kaohsiung should take four hours and forty minutes. Most of the air carriers offer two and three stop flights. Those can take fifteen to twenty hours with the layovers.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No dear, I’m afraid not. Pack your bag, I’ll send the car to pick you up. Bring casual extra-warm clothing and shoes for a slippery-deck. I’ll start on your Ichiban paperwork and IDs. You’ll be a surprise inspector, and only the captain will know the truth.” Obasan’s laugh had sounded a lot like a witch’s cackle. “If you find yourself in any difficulty, go directly to him. Send me a picture of the ID page of your passport. Now hustle.” The call disconnected.

  Hustle?

  Somehow, Portia had managed not to trigger the house alarm on her way out of the condo. Downstairs in the lobby, the night butler chatted with two couples in formal wear—other tenants? Devlin’s bodyguard had leaped to his feet as she hurried past. She’d gone out the door and ducked into the limo before he could catch her.

  The best flight Obasan could book departed Tokyo before the crack of dawn.

  “Why don’t you lay down for an hour?” Obasan had suggested.

  “While you work? Not a chance. I’ll plug in my laptop and go on the Ichiban HR page. I’m a champ at filling out employment forms.”

  When Portia left for the airport, her godmother had walked her to the door, kissed her goodbye and slipped a traditional good-luck token into the travel bag.

  “Okay,” Portia whispered to herself as she’d settled into the first-class seat Obasan had insisted was mandatory for an Ichiban executive. But the absolute highlight of the otherwise uneventful non-stop flight had been discovering there was an airline named Cathay Dragon.

  “Hot damn,” she’d chuckled. “Wait ‘til I tell Devlin. I don’t care where it goes. Next vacation, I’m flying Dragon Air.”

  The rest of the night had been a blur.

  Finally, she stood in front of the Ichiban Worldwide Transport business offices at the Kaohsiung port. At least she assumed that’s what the Chinese symbols said. The logo was Ichiban’s, and the street number matched. Please be the right place. She desperately needed a strong cup of coffee, all the paperwork Obasan had sent electronically from her Ichiban computer last night, and warmer gloves.

  Her corner of Taiwan was fast turning into a winter wonderland.

  Chin up, manager…er, surprise inspector. Portia marched through the front door and was met by a beaming Japanese woman seated behind a counter. An older Chinese woman stuck her head out of a door.

  “Good morning. How may I help you?” the Japanese woman asked, then immediately switched to English. “Good morning—"

  “I speak Japanese,” Portia bowed politely, “thank you. My name is Sullivan, Portia Sullivan. I’m expecting to pick up my documents; then board the Empress Pride. When is she expected to sail?”

  The Chinese lady ducked back into her office and closed the door.

  The receptionist frowned over at the closed door, then smiled brightly at Portia.

  “Good fortune for you. The Empress was originally scheduled to leave the dock one hour from now. But her arrival has been delayed, loading will be delayed, and so departure has also been delayed. I have printed your paperwork from Tokyo, and laminated plastic on your ID cards. Also, I took the liberty of adding your name to the ship’s roster.”

  Portia bowed again. “Thank you very much.”

  “Please sign the papers that are marked while I contact the ship and alert them to your—”

  “Careful,” Portia whispered and raised an eyebrow. The woman’s eyes widened, and her friendly expression turned to shock. Her hand in front of her mouth, she whispered, “Not using your real title, of course.” She whispered so softly, Portia could barely hear her.

  “Good,” Portia whispered back.

  “You’ll want to go aboard with the harbor pilot?”

  “Yes, that would be great, Thanks.”

  Half an hour later she huddled inside the pilot boat as they approached the Empress Pride. Snow piled up on his deck and the windshield wipers worked overtime.

  The pilot made a valiant attempt to chat, trying several languages. However, he spoke very little English and his Japanese was barely understandable. All she could say in Chinese was please and thank you. And she’d bet her pronunciation wasn’t anything to write home about. Damn, all those years learning Japanese? Now she needed to start over with Chinese?

  As the Marine pilot came alongside the ship’s pilot door, the Empress Pride looked huge, especially with metal containers stacked high above the top edge of the ship. The ship’s crew was ready for them and the pilot offered to hold her duffel while she climbed aboard first.

  A crew member inside the pilot door greeted her. “You’re from Ichiban headquarters? Need to see your ID.”

  She stepped aside for the pilot to go past her, then offered her brand-new ID card. The crewman took a brief look and nodded. “Report to the Captain, he wants a word.”

  “On the bridge?”

  That stupid question earned her an eye roll. “What’s your name again?”

  “Portia.”

  “Like the car. Cool.”

  “And you are?”

  “Hoff.”

  She swallowed her gasp and braced herself. “Not a car name.”

  He shrugged.

  “Is it short for something?” she asked.

  “Hoffman,” he grumbled. “You’d better get a move on.”

  “Right. See you around, Hoff.”

  She hurried away, and at the first opportunity, moved out of his line of sight. Holy shit. Her heart pounded. Dropping the duffel, she bent over, hands on her knees. She couldn’t catch her breath. It was Hoffman.

  Light-headed, she couldn’t recall the layout of the ship. How the hell did she get to the bridge from here? Up. Right, big help. She needed a spot outside, on the railing to reorient herself. Without facing Hoffman again. Was he stowing the ladder or securing the pilot door?

  No, stupid, once the harbor pilot was onboard, that door was closed fast.

  Calm down. Act like you know where you’re going. Find the bridge.

  Portia slung her duffel onto her shoulder and went in search of a way up. She couldn’t resist one glance back at the door. Hoffman was gone.

  She hurried, climbing up and along the quickest route. The Captain met her at the door to the bridge. He was a relatively tall young-ish man with thinning hair, sharp eyes and weathered cheeks.

  “Portia.” Not a question. “I’m Katsu. Welcome aboard.” He shook hands and led her to the far side of his domain. They were above the stacks of containers, surrounded by windows. The bridge wings, open vantage points extending out over both sides of the ship, were collecting snow. In fact, the dizzying view of swirling snow was spectacular from here.

  Katsu lowered his voice and said, “I’ve assigned you a single room along the same corridor as Hoffman. Be careful. You’ve been cleared to go anywhere on the ship. I’m going to be busy until we get
into port. And you might want to avoid the bridge until then. Maybe later, I can give you a tour.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but it might better if we aren’t seen together any more.”

  “All right. Understood.”

  “I met a Hoffman at the pilot’s door. He’s the only crewmember with that name?”

  “Right. However, he’s assigned to engineering. The man’s got no business bringing the pilot aboard.”

  All the air left Portia’s lungs in a whoosh.

  Katsu scowled. “Enough. I’m contacting the local police. They can meet us at the dock, take charge of Hoffman.”

  “Captain, I know this is frustrating. Please, give me time to locate some evidence first. Anything that connects him to a crime.”

  “Unless he’s cleared of all suspicion, I don’t him on my ship when we set sail for Keihin Ports.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She clipped her ID to her jacket, retrieved her duffel, and mentally planned the shortest way to her room. If she wanted to sneak around the giant ship in a snowstorm, she needed to change into warmer clothing.

  Now she knew Hoffman was here, aboard the Empress Pride, she wondered if he had a bomb with him? Or the components to construct an explosive?

  How much time did she have? Using mechanized cranes and with electronic identifiers on each container, this mega ship could unload the cargo destined for Taiwan remarkably fast.

  She was in a race against time.

  Chapter 17

  Devlin

  By midday, Devlin had worn out his welcome at China Air’s VIP lounge at Narita/Tokyo International airport. He was on stand-by for China Air’s early afternoon non-stop flight to Kaohsiung. And this was his last chance until tonight. He’d failed to clear two earlier flight’s waitlists.

  More than enough justification for him to snarl at strangers and pace the lounge.

  He’d called Madam Shinsuke every thirty minutes since opening Portia’s note. The older woman sounded sympathetic and she’d supplied him with every bit of data on Portia’s pre-dawn departure, and subsequent arrival at the Taiwan port. An employee in Ichiban’s Kaohsiung business office had filled Madame in on every stinking detail. Even Portia’s cover story. He had to wonder if the Ichiban matriarch’s spy network circled the globe.