by Amelia Autin
Sean, who was dead now, but who lived on forever as one of the founding principles behind RMM.
The past receded, and Jason focused on the man who’d thrown words at him he hadn’t heard in forever. Words he’d sworn no child of his would ever hear in that context...because he would never have children.
Alana’s father. Who, if Jason married Alana and agreed to her conditions, would be his children’s grandfather. A man who’d just deliberately insulted him with words both of Jason’s grandfathers had used toward him when he was barely old enough to understand what they meant.
His parents would have been devastated if they’d known. They adored both their children, and it would have created an irrevocable rift between them and their own fathers, which was why Jason had never told them. He’d never told his sister, either. By the time she’d been old enough to understand, both grandfathers had come to grudgingly accept Jason’s existence...but he’d never forgotten. The only ones in Jason’s confidence—and he’d sworn them both to secrecy—were Sean and David. Only they’d known the searing pain those words had caused him.
Words that still had the power to wound even after all these years. Words no man should ever hear addressed to him, much less an innocent boy who hadn’t chosen to be born. Words against which there were no defenses.
* * *
Alana stared in shock at the man who’d just done his damnedest to break her heart...again. Trying to understand what made no sense. None. Not after the way he’d kissed her on Sunday. Not after the text he’d sent her this morning. “You’ve changed your mind.” She blinked. “Just like that, you’ve changed your mind.”
His face was a stranger’s face, all emotion wiped clean. “I thought I could go through with it, but I can’t. You want children—I can’t give them to you. So...” He shrugged.
“You can, but you won’t.”
“Semantics...but yes. I won’t.”
“I see.” She didn’t, but what else was there to say?
She walked a short distance away from Jason and stared out into Victoria Harbour, watching with detached interest as a couple of sailboats colorfully painted like pirate ships from two centuries ago floated past, followed by an ugly, modern container ship. Only in Hong Kong, she thought, still in that detached state.
Jason had been silent and withdrawn when he’d picked her up earlier, but she’d just figured he had something RMM-related on his mind, so she hadn’t questioned him about it. But when he’d driven them here to the Avenue of Stars, then walked with her to the Bruce Lee statue she knew held special meaning for him and said he needed to talk to her, she’d wondered why he’d chosen such a public place. Now she knew why. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t cause a public scene.
Only...she wasn’t buying it. Something was going on here, something Jason refused to tell her. Some reason she knew she could explain away...if only he would confide in her. But he was a man. And men could be stubbornly male over the stupidest things, things that made no sense to women.
She turned to face him again. And something in the tense way he held himself betrayed him—whatever the reason he was doing this, it wasn’t because he didn’t still love her. Desperately. She almost told him in that instant she knew the secret he’d guarded so closely. That she’d figured out why he didn’t want children. But the closed expression on his face told her this wasn’t the time. Jason wasn’t ready to listen.
She waited until a giggling group of teens stopped for selfies at the Bruce Lee statue then moved on. “Is this the moment where I’m supposed to throw your ring at you and vow I never want to see you again?” she asked calmly. “Because if that’s what you thought would happen, I’m afraid you’re doomed to disappointment.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t want the ring. Keep it. I—” He cut off the rest, but she thought she knew what he’d intended to say. I chose it because it matches your eyes. Words he’d said to her in an emotion-filled voice that hadn’t been quite steady when he’d slid the ring on her finger Sunday.
She almost blurted out, It’s not the ring I’m talking about, you idiot. But she didn’t because there was a shadow in his eyes. Those dark, expressive eyes that haunted her dreams. Eyes that said he was steeling himself to do this, for a reason that made sense only to him.
“I will. I’ll keep it. I have no intention of taking it off, now or ever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m engaged to you.”
His face darkened with the first anger he’d ever directed at her. “I told you—”
“I heard what you said. You’ve changed your mind. I get that. You’re breaking our engagement.” She nodded. “But that just means you’re no longer engaged to me. That doesn’t mean I’m not engaged to you. I am. I love you, and I intend to marry you. Maybe not next month.” She gulped back tears and forced herself to smile as if she wasn’t dying inside, swearing at the same time he’d never know what that light tone cost her. “Maybe not even next year. But someday you’ll tell me what this is really all about. And until then...” She raised her left hand and wiggled her fingers so he could see the ring he’d given her. “Until then, I’m engaged to you.”
He grasped her shoulders so tightly she suddenly wanted to weep over what that said about him, about how much he still loved her. “Alana...”
She fought for composure, hanging on by a thread. Maybe she’d cry when she got home, but she wasn’t going to cry now. “It’s okay, Jason. I understand. Honestly, I do.” She cupped his cheek in comforting fashion and forced herself to smile again. “Just remember I love you, and I’m not giving up. Ever.”
* * *
Alana stood in the curving driveway in front of the main house, watching the taillights on Jason’s car disappear around the bend. Then she drew one sobbing breath before she reined her emotions in tightly. You’re not going to cry about this, her brain insisted. But the ache in her chest begged for the emotional release only tears could bring.
“Alana?” Dirk’s voice from the doorway had her swinging around. “Mei-li said you were spending the night with Jason.” He indicated the overnight case at her feet. “Are you okay?”
She pasted a smile on her face. “No, but I will be.”
“Anything I can do?”
The honest concern in Dirk’s voice made her fiercely glad she’d taken the job as his executive assistant. He and Mei-li had quickly become friends as well as employers, and she easily understood why Dirk was so dear to Juliana’s heart.
She shook her head. “I wish there was, but no, there isn’t. Not this time.” She drew a deep, calming breath. “I suppose I should tell you before Jason says something to Mei-li. He broke our engagement tonight.”
“He what? Has he lost his mind?”
She laughed a little at that. “No. He’s just...confused.”
Dirk stepped outside in the gathering darkness and closed the door behind him. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m not running away, either. I’m not... I’m just...not. Period. I’m not going to do any of the things Jason might expect me to do.” Her lips tightened with resolve. “I told him I understood. I don’t, of course, but that’s neither here nor there, because I know he still loves me. So I told him I’m still engaged to him, even if he isn’t engaged to me.”
At the flash of admiration in Dirk’s eyes, she added softly, “I haven’t forgotten what you once told me about him. Maybe my love won’t be enough to heal him, but I’m going to do my damnedest. If I fail, it won’t be for lack of trying.”
* * *
Three nights later Alana was again roused in the wee hours of the morning by the ringing of a phone. Heart pounding with sudden fear, she immediately thought of Juliana. Please God, no, not her baby! But then she realized it was her cel
l phone, not the landline, and when she stumbled out of bed to answer it, her mother’s voice sounded in her ear.
“Your great-aunt Susan has passed away,” Alana’s mother announced. “Can your father and I assume you’ll fly back for her funeral?”
Alana pushed a tangle of hair out of her face and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “It’s a quarter to three, Mom. This couldn’t have waited for a few hours?”
“I would have thought you’d want to know right away,” her mother huffed. “If you were home where you belonged instead of halfway around the world—”
“Don’t start, Mom. Not now.” A tired yawn took her by surprise, and she rubbed her eyes, trying to focus. “I haven’t seen Great-Aunt Susan in...” She tried to recall exactly, but it was too early for her brain to be firing on all cylinders, especially after the jolt of fear a minute ago over Juliana’s baby. College graduation? she thought. Was that the last time? If so, it was more than four years ago. And she’d never been all that close to her anyway.
“Yes or no, Alana? Will you make the funeral or not?”
“I just took off work for six weeks when Juliana needed me,” she began. “I don’t know if Dirk will let me have more time off, and I—”
“It’s not as if you need that job anyway,” her mother stubbornly asserted. “If he says no, just tell him you’re going anyway.”
“I can’t do that, Mom!”
“Fine. Your cousin Juliana already told her father she can’t make it—her doctors have advised her not to fly in her condition. At least she has an excuse.” Her tone of voice indicated she thought it was a lame excuse at best, but then she added, “I’ll just tell your father and your uncle you’re too selfish to consider their feelings.”
“Mom!” If her mother hadn’t mentioned her uncle Julian, Alana wouldn’t have minded missing the funeral. She wasn’t close to her father, but her uncle was a different story. “I’ll ask Dirk. That’s all I can promise. When’s the funeral? If Dirk says yes, I’ll have to see about booking a flight.”
Alana waited until morning to approach Dirk. “I hate to ask,” she told him. “Especially after leaving you high and dry for six weeks not that long ago. And if you say no, I’ll totally understand.”
“Not a problem.”
“I wouldn’t ask, except...Juliana’s dad has been special to me since I was a little girl, and...you see... I don’t want him to think...”
“You don’t have to say any more. Family comes first. And funerals...well...they’re not really for the dead. They’re for the living. I might not have expressed it at the time, but I was always grateful afterward that Juliana was there for me at Bree’s funeral.”
With that Alana remembered Dirk had buried his first wife in the nightmare glare of publicity that always surrounded him, and quickly changed the subject. “My great-aunt’s funeral is on Monday. I checked and there’s an early Sunday flight I can take. Since the flight home crosses the International Date Line, that means I arrive home on Sunday. I can fly back the day after the—”
Dirk shook his head, cutting her off. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to rush back. It’s a hellishly long flight, and you’ll need time to recuperate before you get back on a plane. Besides...” He shot her an understanding smile. “It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from Hong Kong right now. So everywhere you look doesn’t remind you of Jason. Why don’t you just plan to stay a week or ten days?”
“I’m not going to run a—”
“It’s not running away,” he threw in. “It’s just taking a breather. I admire you for your determination to stick it out, believe me. But it can’t be easy.” He paused before admitting in a low voice, “Been there, done that.”
“Oh, Dirk, I know.” She put her hand on his forearm in empathy. Yes, her boss had eventually found love and happiness again with Mei-li, but that didn’t erase the memory of his loss and the terrible aftermath.
He patted her hand, acknowledging they understood what each other had suffered, then unwittingly delivered a body blow. “At least you won’t have Jason’s baby as a constant reminder, the way I had my daughters.”
Chapter 22
Jason watched Alana’s plane take off from a distance, then put his new Jaguar into gear and drove away from the airport toward RMM’s secluded hideaway near Repulse Bay. It’s for the best, he told himself. And once she’s home, her parents will do their damnedest to keep her there. Permanently. Then you’ll never have to see her again.
Only...out of sight didn’t equate to out of mind. He still wanted her. Needed her in the most elemental ways. Still yearned to be the man she loved, even though he’d told himself time and again he shouldn’t, because as much as he hated to admit it, Alana’s father was right; he’d only ruin her life.
The world had changed since his childhood, but some things would never change. Overt prejudice had become politically incorrect over the years, but covert prejudice was still rampant. There would always be those who looked down on him—and on Alana if she married him—because of something over which he had no control.
The ache would never go away, though. The ache to see her tender, loving smile; to hear her voice saying his name the way she’d said it the night she’d pledged herself to him; to gaze into those incredible amethyst eyes with their long, dark lashes and see the love for him shining from them. Even more, seeing the evidence of her steadfast belief in him. In the man he was.
A voice from the depths of his soul cried out, Alana! As if he could call her back. Then he ruthlessly attempted to quash that voice. “It’s for the best,” he harshly reiterated, shifting gears and slowing for the bridge traffic. “She doesn’t need you in her life the way you need her.”
But the internal argument continued the entire drive, and he was mentally exhausted by the time he arrived.
* * *
The High Tiger checked his watch, and forcibly prevented himself from drumming his fingers on the desk in his home office as he waited for the phone call that would deliver the good news. Patience, he reminded himself.
He’d carefully planned this assassination. He’d privately sounded out the other six members of the ruling council and they’d reached a consensus: Lin Fang, the man in charge of prostitution, had to go. The High Tiger had then arranged for the man who would be promoted to their ranks as the newest enforcer to be the assassin removing the old one. It would be poetic justice...if the High Tiger believed in justice of any kind.
The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie, and he snatched at the receiver. “Yes?”
“No” was the prompt response, and he was startled. Not just because of the answer, but because the Aussie voice belonged to one of his fellow Tigers on the ruling council and not Bao Zhi, the designated assassin and future enforcer.
The High Tiger was always cognizant his phone could be tapped, but his entire home was swept daily for electronic listening devices, so he didn’t hesitate to ask, “What happened?”
“Complete failure. Bao Zhi was shot, and is now in police custody. Lin Fang was spirited away. We don’t know who, but it’s not the Hong Kong Police...so we can hazard a guess.”
The name “RMM” remained unspoken, but both men were thinking it. If RMM had Fang, they could use the attempted assassination to their advantage, convince him no one except the Eight Tigers would have dared to take his life. Would Fang crack? Reveal names he’d sworn to keep secret? The High Tiger wouldn’t bet against it, and he was a man who’d bet on the longest of long shots before, had taken gambles most men wouldn’t dare—and it had paid off for him.
But this had epic disaster written all over it. Fang was weak. Would he plead to a lesser charge in exchange for turning on his fellow Tigers? Men who’d attempted to kill him?
The High Tiger nodded to himself. Without a doubt.
The Ei
ght Tigers had one chance and one chance only to stave off ruin: kidnap the head of RMM and offer to exchange him for Fang to keep Fang from spilling his guts. Which meant the High Tiger had no choice.
“I’ll get back to you,” he told the caller abruptly, then hung up. He picked up the receiver again and punched in a number he’d never used before. He’d insisted on having a number where this tightly guarded secret source could be reached—insurance, he’d always thought of it. But in the past this source had always contacted him, not the other way around.
When the phone was answered he said, “It’s me. I need a name you have always refused to give me. And I need it now.”
* * *
The man on the receiving end slowly hung up the phone, having promised to give the High Tiger the name he demanded. But only in person. And at another remote location. He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a revolver. A totally illegal weapon. One his original employer had given him many years ago, when Great Britain was turning Hong Kong over to the Chinese government and nearly all of the city’s residents were panicking, not knowing what that meant for the former British colony.
He’d kept the revolver all these years, cleaning it periodically and keeping it loaded, but never firing it. Tonight he would. Because much as he despised the man who’d founded and headed up RMM, as much as he wanted to hurt him personally, he could never reveal that man’s name. That would be a betrayal of his one-time employer who was dead now, but who still commanded his loyalty. The man who’d left his company...and his fortune...to his grandson, Jason Moore.