A Father's Desperate Rescue

by Amelia Autin

  * * *

  Mei-li took the cloth shopping bag with the wrapped package of money from Dirk as they went down in the elevator, telling him, “It will be less noticeable if I carry it than if you do.” Her smile came and went. “Women still do most of the shopping here, and most women carry empty shopping bags with them wherever they go. Plastic bags cost extra, you see, and we’re frugal...at least in the little things.”

  Dirk nodded, automatically sliding his camouflaging sunglasses into place. They didn’t speak again until they reached the Rolls parked off to one side of the hotel’s driveway. Dirk held the door for her, but put a hand on her arm just as she was about to get in. “Thank you,” he told her gruffly. “You have no idea how much I—well, anyway, I just wanted you to know.”

  Her heart went out to him. Men like Dirk—her father and brother among them—needed to be doing. Needed to feel as if they were in charge of their own destinies. Dirk’s ego had already taken one pummeling with the death of his wife, an event totally outside his control. Something he couldn’t prevent, no matter how valiantly he fought against it. Now, with his daughters kidnapped, it was as if fate was trying to hammer him into the ground.

  But he hadn’t given up. He was a fighter, and she admired that about him. But her feelings for Dirk went far beyond admiration, and if she was honest she’d admit it. He’s a client, she tried to tell herself. Problem was, that reminder no longer helped. You barely know him. That reminder carried more weight...but not as much as she’d like. Because she felt as if she’d known him forever.

  Dirk was silent at the start of the ride, and so was she. She pulled out her phone and forwarded the latest email attachment Dirk had sent her—she’d already texted the details of where they were headed. Dirk glanced at her from time to time, and though she couldn’t see his eyes through the dark lenses, she figured he was wondering what she was doing. But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t volunteer. She knew she should tell him. Even though she wasn’t putting his daughters at risk with what she was doing, he might not see it that way. He had a right to know...and give it the thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Which was why she couldn’t tell him.

  Mei-li gave a tiny sigh, but it wasn’t so tiny Dirk didn’t notice and ask, “You okay?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  “I’ve had better days.”

  She was forced to smile at his acerbic understatement. “Tell me about Linden and Laurel,” she invited. Some people would avoid the topic under the circumstances, but Mei-li wasn’t one of them. She was a firm believer in the therapeutic properties of talking as a way of relieving stress. Dirk was under enormous stress right now. Talking about his daughters wouldn’t hurt him anymore than he was already hurting and might help. “How did they end up with those unusual names?”

  He laughed softly, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Bree picked them. She loved trees—all sorts of trees. When we found out she was carrying twin girls, she wanted names that would somehow go together without being too cutesy—you know what I mean—and her imagination was captivated with the idea of naming the girls after some of her favorite trees. She wanted names that were feminine...yet projected quiet strength.” A reminiscent smile curved his lips, and Mei-li knew these were good memories for him.

  “When Bree told me the names she’d picked for our daughters—how could I argue with her? They seemed so perfect.” He laughed suddenly. “Bree also made me promise never to use nicknames for the girls. Bree’s real name was Sabrina—not very common—and she loved it. But most everyone, me included, called her Bree for short. She didn’t want that for her daughters, didn’t want Linden and Laurel to be Lindy and Laurie.”

  Dirk glanced sideways at her. “So, what about you? How’d you end up with the name Mei-li?”

  “Mei-li is actually my middle name. It means beautiful and graceful.”

  “Your parents named you well.” That certain something was back in his voice. Nothing blatant. Nothing overtly sexual. Just an honest assessment of the way she appeared to him—beautiful and graceful.

  Her cheeks reddened at the compliment. “My parents compromised when they named their children. My father—you have to understand that China’s is a male-dominated culture—my father picked our first names, and my mother agreed to that. She picked our middle names. So my brother is Jason Chi-Ming Moore, and I’m Victoria—yes, after that Victoria—Mei-li Moore. But my parents always called me Mei-li as far back as I can remember. Probably because I look more Chinese than English.”

  “What about your brother? What name does he use?”

  “Jason? He’s always been Jason. But then, he takes after my father, so Jason suits him more than Chi-Ming. Only a very discerning eye can tell that Chinese blood flows through his veins—we look nothing alike.”

  The Rolls had been climbing steadily for some time, following the road that twisted and turned its way up to Victoria Peak. Now when Mei-li glanced out the window, she realized they were almost there. She checked her watch and saw it lacked a quarter of the hour, which meant they still had plenty of time to make the 11:00 a.m. deadline.

  She leaned forward and spoke to Patrick in Cantonese, and he nodded. Then she turned to Dirk and said, “Patrick will drop us at the Peak Galleria, then try to find a place to park. Parking is always a nightmare up here.” She pointed farther up the mountain, where several apartment buildings and what appeared to be a couple of houses could be seen. “We’re not actually going up there to the top. This is where the tourists come, the Victoria Gap—and here we are,” she said as Patrick pulled to the curb. “We walk from here,” she told Dirk, jumping out of the Rolls. “It’s not far.”

  Mei-li looped her purse strap over her shoulder, took a firm grip on the shopping bag and told Dirk, who’d quickly donned his identity-concealing sunglasses, “Follow me,” as she headed for the overlook.

  The mall and the walkways were crowded—tourists and local visitors everywhere. The Peak, as with most other attractions in Hong Kong, was carrying on as if the typhoon was a far-distant memory instead of one from only two days ago.

  Mei-li darted through whatever openings she could find in the crowd, glancing over her shoulder a time or two to make sure Dirk was right behind her.

  They passed the wall where local artists had clipped their sketches, drawings and paintings of Hong Kong and were doing a brisk trade selling them to the tourists. She could always differentiate the tourists from the locals—the locals haggled. The tourists for the most part didn’t.

  They finally reached the archway erected by the Lion’s Club of Tai Ping Shan, whose circular entrance was flanked by two stone lions. “Excuse us,” Mei-li murmured to the people blocking them, taking pictures. She quickly checked her watch, then grabbed Dirk’s hand. “Five minutes,” she said in an undertone as she practically raced to the far end.

  Mei-li hooked the straps of the shopping bag over one of the iron rail posts, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse. Obedient to their earlier instructions, she pretended to be taking pictures of Hong Kong’s tall buildings down below and Tsim Sha Tsui in the far distance. Sometimes the view was obscured by fog, but not today. The sky was a clear, vibrant blue, and visibility was perfect. She could even see the ferries plying the waters of Victoria Harbour.

  She and Dirk had this section of the overlook to themselves, because trees blocked part of the view. Most people stopped before they got this far, and anyone who did come here quickly turned back for a better photo op.

  Dirk had his smartphone out and was doing the same thing she was. “Think they’re watching us?” he asked, his deep voice pitched to carry no further than to where she stood.

  “Maybe. I hope so.” A shiver ran down her spine at the eerie feeling they were under observation. She surreptitiously looked around to see if she could spot someone, but she knew that would be a long shot. If someone was w
atching, they didn’t have to be close by. They could be as far away as the top of the Peak Tower, noting their every move through binoculars.

  She gave up trying to spot whoever might be watching them because it really made no difference. And she didn’t want that person—assuming they were being watched—to worry about what she and Dirk might do. They were here to deliver the ransom exactly as instructed. Nothing more. Believe that, she told the unseen observer. So much depended on the two of them following their instructions...at least on the surface.

  She peered over the metal railing and looked straight down. The mountain dropped away steeply here, but it wouldn’t be impossible for a man or woman in decent physical shape to retrieve the shopping bag with the ransom when she dropped it over the side. This was actually a lot better than where Sean’s parents had been instructed to leave the ransom for their son—it was highly unlikely a passerby would innocently intervene. And if she dropped it unobtrusively...when no one was looking their way...

  Dirk’s smartphone rang. He quickly stopped pretending to take pictures and answered it. “Dirk DeWinter.”

  Mei-li automatically noted the time—eleven on the dot. Either the kidnappers were gambling Dirk had followed their instructions to the letter, or one of the kidnappers was watching them. Watching, and relaying to the kidnapper still with the little girls that Dirk was in place, waiting to receive the phone call.

  Dirk was facing away from her, but even if he hadn’t been she wouldn’t have been able to see his eyes beneath his dark sunglasses. She didn’t have to, though. She could see the rigid way he held himself. And she could hear him.

  “No, baby, Daddy can’t come get you, not yet,” he said in a low voice. He listened for a few precious seconds. “I know. I know that stuff they made you breathe was nasty, Linden. Yes, Nana knows it was nasty, too.” Another five seconds of silence, then, “Yes, Mommy’s watching from heaven, and she wants you to be brave, no matter what, okay?” He darted a look at his wristwatch. “Put Laurel on the phone, baby. Please. Please.” The anguish in his voice was unbearable, and tears sprang to Mei-li’s eyes. “Laurel, Daddy loves you. And I’ll come get you—no, don’t cry, Laurel. Please don’t cry. I’ll come get you as soon as I can, I promise. You be a good girl for me, okay? You do what—”

  She didn’t have to hear the click to know the call had been cut off midsentence. And she didn’t have to see Dirk’s face to know he wasn’t taking it well. His free hand was gripping the iron railing so tightly his fist was bloodless white. In a hollow, dead voice, he said, “Drop the bag. Do it.”

  Mei-li dashed the tears from her eyes and checked to make sure no one was close by. Then, using her body to shield what she was doing from anyone who happened to glance in their direction, she quickly lifted the bag from the rail post and dropped it over the side. She heard the rustle of the deep grass below as the bag passed through, then a tiny thud as it hit the ground.

  She moved to Dirk’s side and placed a hand on his arm. He was still gripping his iPhone with one hand, the railing with the other. The arm she touched was corded steel. “It’s done,” she told him. “We need to go. The instructions said to leave and don’t look back.”

  “They were both crying,” Dirk said, still in that same dead voice.

  She responded the only way she could. “But they’re alive. And as long as we follow the instructions, they’ll stay alive.” She removed his cell phone from his hand and dropped it in her purse, then used both her hands to pry his fingers loose from the railing. “Come on, tim sum,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were talking to a child. She twined her fingers with his. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 13

  Dirk barely noticed as Mei-li led him by hand back through the bustle and chatter of tourists, all enjoying themselves. Barely noticed her calling Patrick and instructing him where to pick them up. The sounds all around him were curiously muffled, as if they were far distant. All he could hear were Linden’s and Laurel’s sobs as they begged him—begged him—to come get them, to save them from the bad men. All he could hear was his own voice telling them to be brave, to be good. Rashly promising to come get them as soon as he could.

  He moved like a dead man walking, shutting down his emotions, encasing them in ice, the same way he’d managed to survive Bree’s funeral. Can’t deal with it? his mind seemed to be telling him. Shut it down. Don’t feel.

  The pain was there, but it was so far removed it was as if it was someone else’s. Which was the only way he could survive this moment. And the next. And the next. You’re an actor, he reminded himself. You’re not Dirk DeWinter anymore. You’re not even Derek Summers. You’re someone else. Someone whose daughters weren’t taken. Someone whose heart wasn’t torn out and left bleeding at the overlook.

  * * *

  Mei-li watched Dirk on the drive back to the Peninsula Hotel. The stiff way he held himself worried her. That, and the fact he hadn’t uttered a single word since he’d said they were both crying in a voice that had hurt her to hear. Now he sat all the way on the far side of the backseat, his sunglasses securely in place, his face turned away from her. Surrounded by a fortress of solitude. Staring out at...nothing, she imagined. Lost in his thoughts. Lost in his pain.

  A vibration from her purse distracted her, and she pulled out her smartphone. She’d turned the ringer off this morning, right after Patrick had called her to say he was waiting downstairs, not wanting any calls to disrupt the ransom drop. But she hadn’t turned her phone off completely. She was expecting a call...or a text.

  Dirk never turned to see what she was doing, and Mei-li was grateful when she saw who the text was from.

  No dice, the text said. Where next?

  She wouldn’t let herself be disappointed. It had always been a long shot, but sometimes long shots paid off. She texted back, Don’t know, because she knew the question was referring to the next ransom drop, not their immediate destination. Her thumbs flew as she typed, Hotel. Instructions there. 2nd pckg. Will let you know soonest. She thought a moment, then typed. Cell phone?

  Dead end, was the response. Piggyback.

  Damn! Mei-li didn’t often curse, not even mentally, but right now damn! exactly expressed her emotions. When she’d seen last night that the kidnapper was using an iPhone to take pictures, she’d hoped he was using it for calls, too, and not some cheap, disposable cell. If that were the case, they’d be able to find out who he was by whatever cell phone plan he was using. To that end, she’d placed a tiny, high-tech device on Dirk’s iPhone this morning when he wasn’t looking. Totally illegal...but able to track incoming phone numbers even when they were blocked.

  But that was a dead end. Piggyback meant that the kidnapper was making calls by illegally using someone else’s cell phone line. He couldn’t receive incoming calls that way. But he could make any outgoing calls he wanted by tricking the phone company’s computers into thinking his phone was the legitimate thing, and no one would be able to track him. Eventually the owner of the phone number might spot the illegal usage on his bill and have the number turned off. But that was at least a month away, if then—not everyone bothered to review the detailed phone logs on their phone bills.

  She hadn’t told Dirk up front because she hadn’t wanted to raise his hopes only to have them dashed...as they would have been, knowing what she knew now.

  Thanks anyway, she typed back.

  Good idea. Worth a shot. Keep me posted.

  Will do.

  She put her phone away, and when she did she saw Dirk’s smartphone in her purse, where she’d dropped it earlier. Using that as an excuse to try to break through the wall of silence he had surrounded himself with, she leaned over and nudged his arm with the phone. “Dirk?” When he didn’t respond, she did it again. “Dirk?”

  He turned then. “What?”

  “Your phone.” She held it
up for him to take. “I put it in my purse, remember? But you should have it in case...”

  “In case the kidnappers call me again. Yeah. Thanks.” He slid the phone into his pocket, then returned to staring out the window in solitude. Returned to his contemplation of...nothing.

  It made absolutely no sense, but that was the moment Mei-li toppled right over the edge of a precipice. She’d been teetering on the brink since yesterday—okay, she’d been dangerously close to the edge since that first night—but the tsunami of emotions that washed through her now obliterated any doubts she might have had. She loved Dirk. Loved him. How could she not love a man who cared this much about his children? Who was devastated by their tearful pleas?

  The amount of time she’d known him had nothing to do with it. Neither did the knowledge that when this was all over, when Linden and Laurel were safely home with their father where they belonged, she might never see him again. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was knowing that if she could have spared him the pain ravaging him now by taking it on herself, she would have done it. In a heartbeat.

  That’s what love is, she remembered her mother telling her many years ago. Caring more for someone else than you do for yourself.

  That’s how her mother felt about Mei-li’s father. And how he felt about Mei-li’s mother. Their love had set the bar for her. In all the years since Sean’s death, she’d never met a man who aroused the mother lioness in her. Not that what she felt for Dirk was motherly...far from it. But the protectiveness, the fierce desire to shield him from every hurt, those were the emotions she’d longed to feel again the way she’d felt them with Sean...and now she did.

  Last night’s endearment had slipped out before she could prevent it—an endearment she’d only ever used with one other man in her entire life. But her subconscious must have known what her conscious self had yet to acknowledge. She’d used the same phrase today on the overlook. And she’d meant it then, too.