by Joanne Pence
Her stomach tightened, and her heartbeat quickened. She could say that she would prefer to be alone, but she didn’t. She wanted to be with him.
“Sure.” She answered with a measured casualness she didn’t feel. “A nightcap sounds fine.”
Darius went in search of some refreshments after seeing C.J. to her room, but came back a short while later with only two cans of soda. He handed her one. “Everything’s closed. I was lucky to find a soda machine with something still in it.”
“This is fine,” she said, settling into a chair.
He took off his jacket and tie, tossed them onto the arm of a chair, then unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves to just below the elbow. Every gesture exuded male sexuality, and she couldn’t stop watching him.
“So tell me more about yourself, C. Jane Perkins,” he said as he sat on the bed and sipped his soda. “You’re from Ohio, right?”
“Columbus. I went to Ohio State, studied art, then I moved to L.A. What about you?”
“Juilliard. Piano.”
“I see.” She paused. “Then what?”
The easygoing grin had vanished as his gaze lifted to hers, and he hesitated, as if deciding whether to joke, or give a real answer. “I traveled, went to Europe, gave concerts. The usual thing for an aspiring pianist. There were competitions and classes. Lots of classes. And endless hours of practice. I could have jogged around the world three times in all the time I wasted practicing.”
“It wasn’t wasted, Darius. Not the way you play.” Her heart went out to him.
He said nothing.
She leaned forward. “Tell me what happened.”
His green eyes darkened with pain before he dropped them, saying nothing. Stop hurting so, Darius, she wanted to cry, but instead, she hurried on, almost babbling. “Do you realize it’s hardly been a week since we met? We’ve been together so much, been through so much, I feel I should know you as well as I know myself, but really, I hardly know you at all.”
A flicker of curiosity crossed his face.
“I want to know you better,” she continued, almost whispering as she added, “I want to know everything about you.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she realized how much her statement had revealed. She rubbed her forehead. “Forget that. I never should have said that.”
“Why not?” His face remained serious. “It was honest. And, I have to admit, flattering.”
She abruptly stood and hurried over to the windows so she could look out, so she could look anywhere but at him. The fog must have been hovering somewhere out over the Pacific Ocean, because the night was clear, and C.J. could see the city in all its splendor, shimmering far below them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She stiffened at his words, despite their truth. She could easily make a fool of herself over this man. She wouldn’t let that happen. More than anything, she wanted to say something clever, witty, sophisticated, but all she could do was clutch her arms tightly and try to control her surging emotions. She forced her voice to sound lilting and casual as she faced him. “Nothing.”
He waited a long moment before he said softly, “Why don’t I believe you?” His voice grew gentle. “What are you trying to avoid, Chloe?”
“Stop calling me those silly names!”
“What are you running from?”
“Nothing!”
He stood in front of her. “Me?”
“Of course not!”
“Your independence? Or is it just your dependence?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She clamped her lips together in defiance.
“Don’t you? Tell me, why were you the one, alone, searching the backwaters of Asia trying to find your brother? Is your father too old? Too sick? What?” he demanded, taking hold of her hands.
She froze, then pulled herself from his grasp, putting some space between them before she faced him again. “My father is fine. And it was quite natural that I’d be the one to look for Alan. I’m always the one who does things in my family!”
“Everyone depends on C.J., and C.J. depends on no one. I see. So that’s why you get feisty instead of grateful when someone tries to help you.”
“I’m never—”
“Sometimes downright ornery.”
“Where did you learn that Southwest drivel if you’re really from Massachusetts?”
“Suspicious, too,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he moved ever closer to her. “And totally untrusting.”
“I am not,” she said breathlessly, grasping his shoulders both to steady herself and to hold him back.
“Contradictory.” He put his hands on her waist.
“I’m never contradictory.” Tingles cascading down her back met with ripples running up it.
“Contrary.” His eyes met hers.
“Darius!”
“And far too talkative.”
As their gazes locked, any protest she might have uttered died unspoken.
His expression turned suddenly serious, and her pulse raced in response. She felt a hardening of his muscles beneath her hands as his gaze captured hers. He slowly pulled her closer.
“No!” She pushed him away even as her senses warred against her, and then turned and took a few steps to regain her sanity. Dangerous Kane, she thought, you make my mind and body seem like strangers to me, with an unbending will all their own. “This is crazy!”
“Crazy? I think it’s the sanest thing I’ve done since I first met you,” he replied. “Do you have any idea what it was like that first morning in Hong Kong after sleeping in your bed, smelling your perfume all night, and then waking up with you curled there beside me?”
“No—. ”
“Or worse,” he interrupted, once more closing the gap between them, “leaving you lying in my bed at the Mark just last night?”
Her words caught in her throat.
“You,” he whispered, his hands cupped her face, “are a beautiful, desirable woman.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted it desperately. But she couldn’t. She spent a life knowing she wasn’t pretty, desirable, or anything else he was implying. She was klutzy, inexperienced C.J. She never had a lover. She could have, especially in her college years. But the guys who were interested, she didn’t care for, and those she cared about weren’t interested. So she’d waited. Waited for a love that never came.
And now, if she were to give in to what she wanted, he would find out…and how completely pathetic she would seem to him!
“Don’t patronize me!” she said between clenched teeth.
He dropped his hands, giving up. “There’s something good between us, Cleo. As much as you try to ignore it, you know there is. You feel it every bit as much as I do.”
She folded her arms. “Fun’s fun, but we have work to do,” she tried to keep her voice light, uncaring. “I don’t want another lover. And we can’t lose track of what we’re here for—to help my brother. So, if you want sex, look elsewhere, and I’ll do the same.”
He stepped back as if slapped. “I’m not looking for ‘sex.’ Clearly, I misread you. I apologize.”
She turned her head away from his, unable to meet the soft green eyes that seemed to penetrate to her soul. “I like everything just the way it is.” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t allow herself to realize how strongly she felt about him. How much she wanted him. “Go back to your hotel, jungle man.” She walked to the door and opened it for him. “It’s late. You’re raving.”
“You never cease to surprise me, Cleo. You never do.” With a shake of his head, he left.
She shut the door and then leaned against it as if to force herself not to fling it open, to throw herself at him. She drew in a shuddering breath.
“My God,” she whispered as the morning with Alan, the afternoon in Yeng’s cellar and the evening with Darius drifted through her thoughts. “For a girl from Columbus, what a day!”
Chapter 11
She cou
ldn’t ignore the loud ringing in her ears, and realized it was her telephone. The early light of morning brightened the room.
“Hello?” She was surprised to find that her voice worked.
“It’s me,” said the quiet voice on the other end.
She clutched the phone and sat up. “Alan!”
“C.J., I need your help.” Alan sounded desperate.
“Where are you?”
“I’m…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to run.”
“Run? What do you mean, ‘run’? What’s going on?” she cried.
“I can’t explain now. Meet me.”
“Sure. Where?”
“There’s a big old movie house called the Empire on Market and Eighth. It opens at noon. Buy a ticket and go to the balcony, top row. I’ll be there.”
“Okay, but—”
A soft click told her that the connection had been broken.
“Alan? Alan?” As she placed the receiver back into its cradle, the realization that Alan hadn’t told her the truth about any of this settled over her, filling her with despair and worry.
Almost immediately, she heard a knock on her door.
“What’s wrong?” Darius said by way of greeting. He wore light gray slacks, a close-fitting black pullover, and his leather jacket. He was truly a man of surprises.
“Good morning to you, too.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “I must look wretched,” she said.
“Not to me.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“I think it’s for the same reason I see a worried frown on your face,” he replied. “I figured that since Alan didn’t contact you last night, he’d try this morning, or not at all. I take it, he must have called you.”
She saw the concern in his eyes. Although she knew that his real goal was the bounty on the White Dragon, still, in some crazy, inexplicable way, he was the only one who helped her, who comforted her, and who was there for her to lean on. For that she was grateful, and for so much more. Later, she would be strong again. Later, she would take on the whole world if she had to—and do it alone, as always. Later, she would be practical again. But not now.
She reached out to touch his hand. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who’s been right about any of this. Thank you for being here. For helping me.”
He stared at her then, as if stunned by her heart-felt comments.
She wished she could take them back, hating that she revealed as much of herself to him. She had never done that with anyone. “Of course,” she said finally, falling back on her old flippancy. “I’m sure you’re that way with all your women.”
“All my women?” He grinned. “I’d like to know where they are. I’ve been missing something.”
“There must be at least a half dozen in Hong Kong alone.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. The only one who cares about me in Hong Kong is Jimmy Lee. And I assure you, it’s not physical.”
She smiled. “Good. Anyway, I’ve got to shower, dress, eat something and then meet Alan downtown at noon.”
“That sounds fine. I haven’t eaten yet either.”
“You aren’t going with me.”
“Of course I am.”
As she picked up her clothes and headed for the shower, thoughts of being locked in Yeng’s basement came back to her and she had to admit she was glad for his words. “Okay,” she whispered.
San Francisco lent itself perfectly to walking. Like Hong Kong, it was hilly and offered beautiful views of the water. Casually, they strolled through the streets to a small coffee shop off Union Square where they had a light breakfast. They spent time wandering through the downtown area until the Market Street movie house opened.
Chapter 12
“I didn’t steal the jade,” Alan said.
“That’s obvious. It was a well-planned, very professional job,” Darius replied.
“But I know where it is.”
“That, too, is very clear.”
C.J. glowered at Darius. “Let him tell his story.”
“All right, Perkins.” Darius ignored C.J.’s angry look and concentrated on Alan. “From the beginning.”
C.J. looked from one man to the other. She and Darius were sitting in the back row of the theater, Alan directly in front of them. The two most important men in her life had taken one look at each other and instantly flashed hostile.
Maybe it was just the circumstances under which they had met, or the poisonous atmosphere in the bleak theater, that caused their ill feelings she thought hopefully. The theater was old and enormous, the kind that showed third-rate features to an audience of winos who needed to come in from the cold and teenagers who needed a warm place to make out.
As the two men warily eyed each other, C.J. thought how ironic it was. Alan needed Darius to help him out of this situation. Darius needed Alan to get the jade, yet both pretended to be there because of her. Darius had made it clear to her that, since his accident, the search for treasure and the rewards of finding it were what gave him purpose.
Alan coughed slightly, his eyes shifting from one to the other.
“I want the truth,” Darius said coldly.
“I know, but. . .“ He looked around. “It’ll take time. They might find us.”
“Listen, Perkins!”
“All right! I’ll tell you.... It started the way I told C.J. Did she tell you?”
“She gave me your version of events. We both know there was a lot you didn’t explain to her.”
“Well,”—Alan sounded embarrassed—“as I said, I was in Malaysia, on the beach, and in the distance I spotted something. I moved closer and saw it was a man. He’d been washed up, and was half dead.”
Darius leaned back in his chair and eyed Alan suspiciously. Alan noticed. “I know it sounds crazy. But it’s true! Look at me. I’m not the kind of person to get mixed up in an international jade theft, except by accident. It was a crazy accident that, God knows, I wish had never happened!”
“That’s true enough.” Darius grimaced. “Go on.”
“The man could barely speak, but he wanted desperately to talk. He knew he was dying. He knew his friends had been murdered. He told me a tale that made my blood run cold. He had to tell it.”
C.J. nodded encouragingly, willing him on, believing in his innocence.
“He was... I guess we’d call him a pirate. He and his friends were hired by a man named Chan Li.”
“Chan Li?” C.J. interrupted. “You mean Mr. Yeng’s friend?”
Alan looked sheepish. “They aren’t friends. I knew Yeng would recognize Chan Li as the man who stole the White Dragon, and when he heard the name, he’d know I have the Dragon now.”
“What!” Darius leaned forward and grabbed the front of Alan’s shirt. C.J. sat unmoving, shocked by Alan’s words. “You sent your own sister to Yeng spouting the name of a man like that!”
Alan made a whimpering sound as he tried to free himself. C.J. reached out and took Darius’s arm, although her mind and heart reeled with the knowledge that Alan had lied to her.
“Please,” she said.
Darius let go with a shove, then glared at C.J. “He’s not worth saving.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize…” Alan mewled.
Darius snorted. C.J. remained silent as Alan continued his tale, but she couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling that had filled her.
“The pirate explained to me that Chan Li lived in Luchow, near Hong Kong. He was an underworld figure, a thief, and had come up with a way to steal the White Dragon. He needed help, however, and that’s where the pirates came in. They thought they were partners with Chan Li, but he had a very different plan in mind.
“They stole the jade, and Chan Li hid it behind the face of an antique grandfather clock he had. It had a secret compartment that looked like it housed clock workings—springs and all, but instead it was hollow. He even showed the pirates how the compartment
worked.”
“Because he knew the pirates would never live to open it?” C.J. asked.
“That’s right.” Alan nervously eyed Darius before continuing.
“Chan Li gave the pirates a sealed container they believed contained the Dragon. They were to carry it to Singapore, where Chan Li said he would meet them, and then sell it to his connections and split the proceeds. But in the middle of the South China Sea, a hidden bomb caused the boat to blow up.
“My pirate was the only one to survive the bomb, and he realized Chan Li had duped them. He got onto a raft, and it brought him to the island. He knew he was dying. I was his only hope of getting even with Chan Li, so he told me where to find the White Dragon and how to open the grandfather clock’s secret compartment. Soon after that, he died.”
“And then?” Darius asked impatiently.
“I went to Luchow and found Chan Li’s house. I hid, watching it for several days, hoping to find it empty at some point. Then, one night, something strange happened. Lights were on, but there was no movement whatsoever.
“I sneaked up to the house. It was unguarded, so I entered. What I saw was so horrible it still gives me nightmares. A bodyguard was dead, shot to death, just beyond the doorway, and a little farther into the house was another. Then, in the main room, I found Chan Li, his blood splattered around him.
“The rooms had all been torn apart. Even the grandfather clock had been knocked on its side and the workings torn out of it, but no one tore into the unit that housed them. So, although the face had been smashed, the secret compartment wasn’t discovered. I opened it the way the pirate had said, and inside lay the White Dragon. I grabbed it and was out of the house in a matter of minutes.
“I had planned on turning everything over to the police the next day. But then I started thinking. The reward would be big, but Chan Li would have sold the jade for more. And, I figured, his buyer must be in Hong Kong since he didn’t try to smuggle the jade out of the area.
“So I hid the Dragon in the only place I knew where it would be absolutely safe for a long time. Then I started to leave little hints here and there around Hong Kong, clues, to indicate that if anyone was interested in the jade, they should talk to me. No one did.”