A Father's Desperate Rescue

by Amelia Autin

  She nodded. “The two times I asked them for help, they came through.” She took a step toward him. “There are no guarantees, though. Past success isn’t always a predictor of future success. As I told you that first night, I can’t prom—”

  Dirk’s iPhone signaled an incoming email, cutting her off. Less than a minute later, Mei-li was standing behind Dirk, looking over his shoulder at the properties of the picture he’d downloaded. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath. “Different GPS coordinates...again.”

  “Let’s see where this picture was taken.” When Dirk pulled up the location on Google Maps, she frowned. “Aberdeen? That’s on the southwest side of Hong Kong Island. It’s almost as if they know we’re trying to track them and are trying to throw us off the scent,” she murmured to herself.

  “You think...?”

  She shook her head. “If they know, why not just turn geotagging off?” She laid an apologetic hand on Dirk’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned and looked up at her. “For what?”

  “I should never have told you about the geotagging. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Given me hope?” he said, interrupting her.

  “Given you false hope.”

  Dirk stood abruptly. “Not false hope,” he said, his voice very deep. Very sure. “Okay, it hasn’t helped so far. But I’m not giving up. It could still happen.” His hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to his, and he brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he kissed the corners of her eyes, one after the other, and Mei-li caught her breath.

  Before he could kiss her lips, as she desperately wanted him to do, they heard a knock, and Rafe called out through the closed door, “Dinner’s here.”

  Mei-li was unpleasantly jerked back into reality, realizing neither of them had heard the butler’s entrance doorbell indicating room service had arrived. She started to pull away, but Dirk caught her arms and refused to let her go. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t kiss me unless you mean it.”

  “Why the hell would I kiss you if I don’t mean it?” he demanded, his hands tightening on her arms.

  “I don’t know. But I—”

  He kissed her, effectively silencing her protest. And he put his whole heart into it. His whole soul. Mei-li didn’t know how she knew that...but somehow she did. And she was kissing him back. Giving him the same total commitment.

  The knock sounded again, louder this time. “Mr. DeWinter? Dinner.”

  They broke apart. Mei-li couldn’t have spoken even if she’d tried, but Dirk managed to call out, “We’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  Dinner was almost over when Dirk announced to everyone at the table, “I appreciate everything you’ve done today. You have no idea how much it means to me. But there really isn’t anything more for you to do tonight, so you might as well call it a day.”

  “You have one more delivery, don’t you?” Patrick asked. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

  Dirk’s mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. “You’ve done enough, Patrick. Go home. Study. Mei-li and I can walk to the Clock Tower and back.”

  “Walk carrying all that money?” Rafe asked.

  “No one will know,” Mei-li assured him. “The cloth grocery bag is an effective disguise. Half the women on the streets will be carrying one, with nothing more valuable than groceries.”

  Rafe stood and flexed his shoulders. “Guess I’ll head back to my hotel, then. Don’t need a cab—the walk will give me the chance to stretch my legs. Anyone coming with me? Mike? Chet?” Mike agreed, but after a quick look at Vanessa, Chet declined and the other two bodyguards left together.

  Patrick glanced at his watch. “I’ll say good-night, too. If I leave now, I can catch the next ferry.” His eyes met Dirk’s. “But I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow.”

  “You already missed two days of classes,” Dirk demurred. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

  Patrick’s lips thinned. “You think I care about that?” he asked with a sudden flare of anger. “You think I can just go back to school and not worry—” He quieted when Mei-li placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll be here,” he said implacably before stalking out.

  Dirk’s eyes sought Mei-li’s. “I didn’t mean to insult him,” he said.

  “You didn’t. You were just trying to think of what’s best for him. And Patrick will realize it by the time he gets to the ferry.”

  Vanessa and Chet exchanged glances in the silence that followed, then Vanessa said softly, “Mr. DeWinter?”

  Dirk turned his attention to her. “Yes?”

  “I’m really sorry I lost my temper and spanked Linden. I know that doesn’t make it okay, and I know you’ll probably be looking for another nanny for your daughters if—I mean when—you get them back. And I wouldn’t blame you.” Tears stood in her eyes. “I made a mistake. A bad one. But I love Linden and Laurel, and I’ll be praying for them. Please believe that.”

  He was still upset about what had happened, but he wasn’t proof against Vanessa’s tears. “I believe you,” he said as gently as he could. “Linden and Laurel love you, too. So, no, I won’t be looking for another nanny for the girls. Unless...” He glanced at Chet, then back at Vanessa.

  Vanessa held her hand out to Chet in an appealing fashion. “I...I don’t know if...”

  It was as if the two were alone in the room. Chet said, “I haven’t changed my mind. I still want you as my wife, Vanessa.”

  “I should never have refused to marry you,” Vanessa replied. “I realize that now. I think maybe that’s why I was so short-tempered with Linden, because I had turned you down and was regretting it. Almost as if I felt Linden’s misbehavior wasn’t fair after the sacrifice I’d made for her.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, when Vanessa left with Chet, Dirk and Mei-li were alone. There was still more than an hour before they needed to leave to make the last ransom delivery, so while Dirk called down to have room service pick up the dishes, Mei-li sat herself down at the piano in the corner of the living room.

  Her fingers wandered over the keys, playing little snatches of one song after another from memory. Then, without realizing it, she drifted into a piano version of George Winston’s “Where Are You Now,” from his 9/11 benefit album. She stopped in midnote when she realized how infelicitous this was.

  “Don’t stop.” Dirk’s voice was very quiet, but firm. He sat next to her on the piano bench. “Why did you stop? That song exactly expresses my feelings.”

  “You know it?”

  “I’m a big fan of George Winston. Just like jazz, George Winston’s music speaks to the heart.” There was something in Dirk’s face that made Mei-li’s heart ache. “I played his Remembrance—A Memorial Benefit CD a lot after Bree died—the music cries for you when you can’t cry yourself.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Why couldn’t you cry?” she asked softly.

  Dirk didn’t answer with words, but his fingers flowed over the keys and she recognized “Lament” from the same CD. He played the song through to the end, then sat there with his hands in his lap, staring at them.

  “Bree lost two babies the first couple of years we were married,” he said without preamble. “She barely knew she was pregnant...before she wasn’t.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “I’ll be honest. They weren’t real to me. Not the way they were to her. She grieved over each miscarriage, and I...I was helpless. I tried to be supportive but she knew I didn’t feel the same way she did. That only added to her grief.”

  His face contracted. “We tried for ten years after that. She wanted a baby so badly! It was the only thing she wanted I couldn’t give her.” He fell silent for a moment. “We tried everything, even in vitro fertilization. And after ten years, a miracle happened.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and when they opened again, his lashes were damp. “Only...right after she found out she was pregnant, she was diagnosed with stage III ovarian cancer.”

  “Oh, Dirk! How horrible for both of you.” Mei-li put a comforting hand on his arm.

  He glanced down at her hand and shook his head. “Don’t waste your sympathy on me. Because, son of a bitch that I am, I...” He swallowed hard, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I wanted her to have an abortion.”

  Chapter 16

  “How’s that for Father of the Year, as one fan magazine named me?” Dirk continued, his lips twisting in self-mockery. “All I cared about was me. What I wanted.”

  Mei-li placed two fingers over his lips. “I don’t believe that. You loved your wife. You wanted to save her life no matter what price you had to pay. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. Stage III ovarian cancer? That means radical treatment—chemotherapy, radiation, possibly even surgery. All potentially dangerous for the woman, and even more so for an unborn child. Am I right?”

  A baffled expression crossed Dirk’s face. “How do you know that?”

  “I have a friend—had a friend—who died that way. She wasn’t pregnant and she did everything the doctors recommended—chemo, radiation, and radical surgery—the minute she found out...and she still died. Ovarian cancer...” She breathed deeply. “It’s almost never discovered in stage I, when the prognosis for full recovery is good. Even in stage II, it’s extremely difficult to diagnose. By the time stage III is reached...” She shook her head with regret and added gently, “Even if she hadn’t been pregnant, you can’t know your wife would have survived. And if she loved you, she would have wanted your child, no matter the risk to herself.”

  “That’s what Juliana said.”

  She knew he was talking about the queen of Zakhar. “She was right. Your wife chose to take the risk, chose to give you a gift from her heart before she died. You would dishonor her by thinking otherwise.”

  The silence between them stretched endlessly until Dirk finally said, “You’re right. Bree gave me Linden and Laurel to cherish. The last thing she said to me before the doctors took her in for surgery was—” He broke off as if the memory was too painful. Eventually, in a deep rasp, he said, “She told me, ‘I regret nothing. I have loved and been loved. Our babies are an extension of that. Please love them as you love me.’ Almost as if she knew she wasn’t going to make it. Almost as if she was afraid I wouldn’t love our babies if something happened to her.”

  His chest heaved as he made a valiant attempt to keep a tight rein on his emotions. “I do love them, Mei-li. I love them more than anything in the world. Would I sacrifice my life for them? In a heartbeat. That’s why it’s killing me to know they’re paying the price for my sins. That they were taken by Terrell Blackwood as revenge on me because I killed his son.”

  “We’ll get them back,” she promised him rashly, knowing he needed to hear those words at this moment, even if they were a lie. But they’re not a lie, she told herself stoutly. Because anything else is unthinkable.

  Then she kissed him. It started slow and gentle, more for comfort than anything else. But then a hunger for this man exploded inside her—a hunger and a need to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. That they would survive...together.

  She ached for him physically and emotionally. The physical ache she understood. His arms closed around her like bands of steel as they sat on the piano bench, his hands sliding over her body with a kind of desperation, as if he needed to touch her, hold her, to believe she was real.

  Mei-li had loved Sean as much as any twenty-year-old was capable of, and he had felt the same. Their feelings had found their outlet in lovemaking that had been fulfilling for both of them. She’d never felt passion like this, though, as if her body was on fire from the inside out.

  But it was the emotional ache that devastated her. She didn’t just want to make love to this man, she wanted to love him. She wanted to show Dirk that life didn’t end when a loved one dies, much as you might want it to at the time. Wanted to prove to him that feelings could be rekindled from the ashes. Not a substitute for the old, but something new, forged in the fire of loss and stronger for it.

  Eventually, though, Dirk pulled back. Separating himself from her, but not all the way. Mei-li wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he had. His forehead touched hers as he whispered, “I want you. God knows I want you. But...”

  “I know,” she whispered back, her lips only a breath away from his. She kissed him, but lightly. A kiss of reassurance, not passion. But she couldn’t completely eradicate the pain from her voice when she said, “This doesn’t end here, but first things first.” Then she slid away from him on the piano bench and stood. Don’t look at him, she warned herself, because that would only have brought the ache back. Physical and emotional.

  She headed for Dirk’s study and grabbed the ransom bag, but when she emerged he was standing right there, waiting for her. His arms enfolded her, but instead of kissing her he pressed her cheek to his chest and held it there. “I hurt you.” The rumble of his voice reverberated beneath her ear. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t. Don’t think that, Dirk. Don’t ever think it.” She raised her face to his. “I let myself lose focus—that won’t happen again, I promise. But...” She couldn’t tell him what was in her heart, but she had to say this much. “When this is all over, when we’ve rescued your daughters...don’t walk away. Please.”

  The remorse she’d seen in his vivid blue eyes before was back, and if they’d had the time she’d have forced him to tell her what it meant. Would have made him confess the secret guilt he carried in his breast—because she knew that was the only explanation for the regret in his eyes. Then, and only then, would she be able to break through the wall he’d built around himself, around his emotions.

  Only then would he be free to accept her love...and return it.

  * * *

  They approached the Clock Tower from the north, having walked the relatively short distance from the Peninsula Hotel. The promenade was busy, as always, with locals and tourists passing to and fro, moving from the Star Ferry Pier along the waterfront to the Avenue of the Stars. The Clock Tower was brightly illuminated, its red brick and white granite both appearing as shades of orange under the night sky and the lights.

  Mei-li had her smartphone out, pretending to take pictures of the clock, the harbor and the Hong Kong Island skyline across the water. She told herself not to, but she snapped two real pictures of Dirk when he wasn’t looking. Since it was night and he couldn’t wear his sunglasses without drawing unwanted attention to himself, he’d donned a ball cap advertising the Minnesota Twins and pulled the brim low over his face. Mei-li wasn’t a sports fan—horse racing at Happy Valley was about the only sport she watched, and that only occasionally—but she knew Americans were as crazy over American football as the rest of the world was over soccer...which they called football, too.

  “Football fan?” she asked Dirk, pointing to his ball cap, making small talk as they leaned against the iron railing surrounding the harbor and waited for 9:00 p.m. to roll around.

  Dirk grinned. “Baseball. If this were a football cap, it’d be the Vikings. The Twins are baseball.”

  “Oh. Kind of like cricket, right?”

  His grin deepened. “Nothing like. Except there’s a bat and a ball involved. Not much of a sports fan, I take it?”

  “Not much. You?”

  “When I’m not on location outside the US, shooting a movie, yeah, I’m a four-sport guy. Baseball, basketball, football, hockey.”

  “Hockey?”

  “I’m originally from Minnesota,” he said, exaggerating his pronunciation of the state’s name as “Meen-eh-soh-tah,” which Mei-li took to be some kind of inside joke. “I haven’t been to a live hockey game in years, b
ut I used to go all the time back when I lived there. And I was on my high school team. Wasn’t very good, but...” He shrugged and grinned lightheartedly. “At least I made the team.”

  The wind off the harbor caught Mei-li’s hair, pushing it across her face, and she looped it behind her ear. She glanced over at the Clock Tower, then at her watch, double-checking the time. “Basketball is big in mainland China,” she told Dirk. “Football—soccer to you—is big, too. But, somehow, I was never interested.” She chuckled softly to herself. “Jason, my brother, was into rugby when he was young. Pretty good, too. My father was super proud and so was my mother...right up until Jason broke an arm in a rugger scrum. After that, she wanted him to pursue a less-dangerous sport. What about your parents? Did they want you to play hockey?”

  Dirk’s grin faded. “My parents both died when I was nine. Car accident. I went to live in Minnetonka with my aunt and uncle and their three kids, all under the age of seven. They loved me and I was fortunate not to be made a ward of the state when my parents died, but there wasn’t a lot of money in that household. Minnetonka has a reputation for being a wealthy suburb of Minneapolis, but not everyone who lives there is well-off. Anything I wanted, I had to earn the money for myself. Good thing about it? I learned early how to work hard. I learned how to set goals for myself...and achieve them. And I learned the value of a dollar.”

  He waved a hand in the direction of the Peninsula Hotel. “I don’t live like that as a general rule. The studio is picking up the tab, and I had valid reasons for saying yes. But back home in Hollywood it’s a different story.” He breathed deeply. “I don’t skimp on the important things—my daughters, for one. I have a nanny and three bodyguards for them because they’re necessary, not a status symbol.

  “And my housekeeper dates back to our early days in Hollywood—Bree and me. We really couldn’t afford her at first, but Hannah had lost her job, her husband and her home all in one fell swoop, so Bree and I took her in. Hannah didn’t want charity, so we let her do whatever she wanted to do around the house as a way of earning her keep. When I started making a name for myself in the film industry and wanted Bree to travel on location with me, Hannah just sort of took over as housekeeper, and she’s been with me ever since.”