He smiled at that. Yeah, he’d never forget nearly losing her, either. “You’re a pretty blonde, too, by the way.” Of course, she’d be a knockout even if she dyed her hair purple and green and bedazzled her skin with silver speckles.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve always wondered if it was true that blondes have more fun.”
“We’re not here to have fun—this could really backfire. I’m still trying to figure out why I agreed—”
“I was kidding, David. Of course I know why I’m here…but I’m glad you’re here, too.” Then she lifted to her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m grateful for your friendship and the fact you’re willing to help me. I know you and Roman are both worried, but we are going to find my sister. And when we do, I know I’ll owe it all to you.”
From the look in her eyes, he knew she meant it, but it made him hurt a little, too. Because if they found her sister, it would be completely due to the fact that God had intervened, and not at all due to him. Clearly, it would be some sort of miracle if she ever looked past David’s mistakes to see that God was on her side.
Still, he had hope. Lots of hope.
“Here’s hoping that ten years from now, we’re remembering the night we found your sister and took down Kwan’s empire.”
Her smile dimmed and she nodded, her eyes glistening.
They entered the concert hall, and he let himself be surprised at the elegance, the rows and rows of crushed red velvet seats, the two balconies above. The orchestra was warming up in the pit, and the cacophony of strings and bass added an eerie tone to the moment.
“We were lucky to get these tickets on such short notice. I found these through a scalper online.”
Luck had absolutely nothing to do with it, and it was just on the tip of his tongue to say that, but something like shame held him back. See what happened when he took things into his own hands. It affected every area of his life.
“We’re on the side, on the second tier. Hopefully we’ll have a decent view.”
He knew she didn’t mean of the stage, however, for a second, it felt like a date, something precious that he’d file away and remember, forever.
He climbed the stairs behind her, and they found their seats. He opened the program, pretended to read the listing of musical scores, written in Mandarin. “Listen, I’m not kidding. I know you don’t want to obey me, but I’m dead serious. If for some reason I tell you to abort and run, I want you to do exactly that, just like we talked about. Just because things went relatively well at the teahouse doesn’t mean that Kwan wouldn’t hurt you right here, right now.”
Yanna picked up the opera glasses she’d purchased at the market. “Now, dawling, when have I ever disobeyed you?” She began to scan the audience.
“Funny. I’m serious, Yanna. I may look all cleaned up and spiffy, but I’m still the guy you saw on Kwan’s boat, and I’m not afraid to put you over my shoulder and drag you out of here. I care about your sister, but it’s not worth losing you.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Because you won’t do anything stupid? Yeah, tell me about how you ended up here in the first place? I forget…”
She kept her voice light, her smile affixed, but he noted a muscle pulling in her jaw. “You know, you might consider the fact that Kwan was on to you the entire time, and was just using me as a ploy to distract you so he could kill you.”
“I have thought of that, by the way. But it doesn’t matter now. What matters now is finding—”
“Tochna. I found him.” She leaned over toward David and handed him the binoculars. “The box across from us, third from the front. Looks like his party has the entire box.”
David put the glasses to his eyes. Here David was, dressed in a monkey suit, sitting next to the most beautiful woman he knew, staring at one of the most despicable men he’d ever met. And there Kwan was, wearing a better tux, his hair slicked back, an exotic woman on his arm, a small entourage of goons warriors watching his cowardly back.
David handed the binoculars back to Yanna, put his arm around her. “Remember, you’re going to obey me.”
The lights began to dim, and she turned and smiled at him. “Oh, David, you know me better than that.”
He stared at her in the darkness, feeling a little nauseous. Because, yes, oh, yes, he did.
Chapter Thirteen
E ven Yanna could agree that something or Someone was looking out for her, because her plan seemed to be going off without a hitch.
David might not be so happy, however, because Yanna Plan A and David Plan A differed not so much in result, but in process.
Her plan involved her getting up close and personal with Public Enemy Number One while David stayed far enough away for Kwan to walk out and lead them all to Elena.
She’d been cooking up her plot ever since she had slithered into her slinky black dress—courtesy of another stop at the market—and glimpsed the look on David’s face. He looked as if he’d never seen her before, or at least this side of her.
Or maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of what he refused to acknowledge.
Even if his brain didn’t want her, his heart did. Because no man kissed a woman as David had kissed her without having at least a portion of his heart engaged. David never did anything halfway, and his kiss was no exception—strong arm around her shoulder, hand entwined in her hair, kissing her like he’d been waiting, dreaming of her in his arms for…at least as long as she’d been dreaming the same thing.
That had lasted only as long as it took for him to come to his senses.
He simply didn’t want her in his world longer than the space of a kiss.
That made her feel oh so wonderful, so cherished.
All the same, it had given her the idea that she now clung to as she followed Kwan’s floozy out of the bathroom and toward his private box.
Kwan would look at her exactly the same way David had. Perhaps—even she could admit it was remote—perhaps he wouldn’t recognize the beat-up brunette who had jumped ship two days ago. Instead he’d see a blonde who just wanted to have fun.
“We’re going to Jin’s house after the performance. I’m sure he’ll let you come along.” Up close, Kwan’s girl was slim, and no older than Elena, with short, black bobbed hair. She’d accidentally—or not, thanks to Yanna and an unsuspecting waitress—spilled red wine down her black satin dress during intermission. David had been watching Yanna, and she’d seen his eyes widen as she followed her victim back to the bathroom.
See, Yanna had already discovered Kwan’s real name. Jin. David should trust her more.
Once inside the bathroom, Yanna had simply offered the assistance every girl needed—towels and sympathy. Oh, and plenty of I’m so bored to go along with her act.
Which conveniently led to “why don’t you join me and my boyfriend after the show?”
Yanna had smiled, protested, and finally given in. Oh, sure, you want me to ride in your limo, back to Kwan’s secret lair, so I can wait until everyone passes out, then surprise him out of a sound sleep, preferably with a kitchen knife to his throat? Oh, okay, if you insist.
The only glitch so far in her ultraperfect plan was when Floozy, aka Ari, invited her to join her in their box seats.
Yeah, that would be trickier. Especially with David standing in the hallway, leaning to one side, holding up the wall and trying to act nonchalant. Not an easy task since worry rippled the air like heat around him. He reached out to catch her as she walked by, but she moved her arm out of the way and shot him a look.
Back off.
Or maybe, Trust me.
Probably both, but David reacted like some sort of jilted lover, all dark frowns and glares.
Well, this wasn’t about him. Or her. She’d do whatever it took to track down Elena. Even sit in Kwan’s box, in the back, next to one of his bodyguards, who looked vaguely familiar and stared at her like she might be a
nice roll of sushi.
She gave him a wan smile. Ari turned back to her and shot her a grin. Best friends. She wondered if Ari had a big sister and where she might be tonight, if she worried about Ari and the company she kept.
Glancing down at David’s seat just as the lights lowered, Yanna saw that he had reentered his box. He now stared up at Kwan with his hands folded over his chest in a very if-looks-could-kill kind of posture.
Loosen up. She could take care of herself. Really.
Mostly.
Yanna pulled her silk shawl over her and tried to concentrate on the soprano over the roll of her pulse.
The opera ended long before she had figured out what to do to get Kwan alone, or if—please, no—he recognized her before she could get her hands on a real knife (as opposed to her Barbie knife). By the show’s end, she’d turned her program into an egg roll, soggy and unreadable.
The last of the applause died, and the lights flickered on. Yanna stood, aware that Kwan now bent toward his girlfriend, who at the moment was probably informing him of her addition to their party.
Indeed, he turned. Yanna braced herself, smiled, and didn’t see a flicker of anything but interest cross Kwan’s dark face.
Just what, she suddenly wondered, had her new friend gotten her into?
Kwan’s, er—bodyguards? Business associates? pals?—steered her into the hall and down the stairs, protecting Kwan from the press of the crowd as they exited off to the side and down to the front lobby. Yanna glanced around for David, but didn’t spy him in the throng.
And then they were outside. The air, fresh and cool, still damp from the rain, swept over her and she gulped it, more for strength than anything else.
Really, she didn’t care what happened to her. As long as she located Elena.
But she preferred that whatever happened to her be relatively painless.
That would be better than the scenario currently happening in her mind, the one where Kwan used her cute little knife on her throat, just like he’d suggested on the yacht. Good thing David had confiscated it.
“Coming?” Ari asked, and Yanna climbed into the limousine next to her and across from Kwan, who was pouring himself a highball of brandy.
He offered it to Yanna. She glanced at Ari, who raised an eyebrow. Then accepted the glass.
Kwan poured one for himself, and they toasted to a fine performance.
Yanna tried not to gag as her throat sizzled, her stomach convulsing in on itself. See, this was why she didn’t drink.
They pulled away from the concert hall.
Yanna looked out the window to see David standing on the steps, staring out into the parking lot. For a moment, she had a wild urge to wave, open the window, yell his name.
It didn’t help that his worried expression made her think that yes, he had meant everything he’d put into that kiss.
Too little, too late.
Kwan reached across the limo and put his hand on her knee. “So, what is your name?” he asked in English.
David was going to kill her.
Well, once he tracked Yanna down and got her away from Kwan, who at the moment was first in line. Because David knew without a sliver of a doubt that Kwan knew—he had to know—that the beauty he’d picked up in his little entourage was none other than Agent Andrevka, the woman who’d slipped out of his hands two days ago.
Nothing else accounted for her easy reception into Kwan’s merry band of terrorists.
David felt sick, watching the limo pull away from the curb, a shiny hearse under the bright lights of the parking lot. He refused to look straight at the car, but saw it in his peripheral vision, memorizing the license plate.
He gave the car about fifteen seconds before he sprinted down the curb, found the scooter Roman had left in the dark shadows of the lot. Plan B.
Again.
He leaned into the ride, into the rain, his anger about all he could feel. He’d known she had something cooking in her sneaky brain. A smart man, a man who knew Yanna like he did, would have kept a better grip on her, at least kept his arm around her waist.
Instead, he’d let her wander out into the crowd.
Never to be seen again.
He gave himself points for not hauling both Yanna and Kwan out of Kwan’s box for some elbow room, and then getting down to business with Kwan.
But like Yanna, who should trust him, he also wanted Elena found. And Kwan had too much padding around him for any sort of snatch-and-run to work.
So Yanna, of course, knowing this, apparently decided to employ her own version of hero.
Why couldn’t she trust that David meant what he said? They would find Elena, they just needed to do things his way.
The thought zeroed in on him and only made him drive faster, spraying a puddle onto himself. His monkey suit clung to him, his face slick and grimy with rainwater. But he had eyes on the limo and Yanna.
Please, God, keep her safe.
They drove through Taipei, past the downtown markets, the bright neon lights. In the distance, Taiwan’s tallest building, Taipei 101, glared down on the wet streets from its glowing, lofty heights on the soggy peons below. David kept three lengths away from the limo, and tried desperately not to let his thoughts wander.
He most definitely didn’t need to imagine what Kwan might be doing right now to the shapely blonde in the clingy dress.
He should have made her wear a parka.
The limousine cut north, toward the mountains, and he had to hang back as they wound into the hills. Houses here had broken away from their foundations, sitting in rubble from the last earthquake. The air here smelled fresh, out of the smog of the city, rife with evergreen, umbrella-shaped banyan trees, and the bombax flower, which resembled a lumpy tree.
The road began to bend, the traffic thinning, and he held back even more, finally deciding to drive without his lights. The last thing Yanna needed was Kwan alerted to his presence.
David pictured an ugly repeat of the drama on the boat.
But when he rounded the curve, now high enough up to see the city stretched below him, Kwan’s car had vanished.
David sped up, barely avoiding the edge of a long and ugly careen down the side of the mountain. Turning on the lights, he saw nothing ahead. Another mile and he knew.
Kwan had lost him.
And David had lost Yanna.
Chapter Fourteen
S he could do this. She could. Absolutely. Because Yanna was a superagent, double-oh-seven…
Oh, who was she trying to fool? She was not a field agent. Someone needed to write that on a glowing neon sign and hang it over her head.
These moments were exactly why she preferred to sit in her office with all her humming CPUs.
Yanna fabricated a smile for Kwan as she took his slimy, too-smooth hand and stepped out of the limousine. He slipped his arm around her waist, held on. Everything inside her wanted to seize up and hurl at his touch, but she kept her mind on Elena, pasted a smile on her face and giggled.
Maybe she did have some latent undercover skills, because she didn’t recognize the smiling, supposedly drunk woman now flirting with Kwan. But a super-spy would have remembered to bring the transmitter with her, not leave it with her partner, who right now might be sitting outside the concert hall, wanting to wring her neck. Why had she ditched David? She must have been out of her mind, because she’d reconsidered about ten minutes into the trip, and had been sending him silent SOS’s ever since as they drove into the hills toward Kwan’s place.
Kwan might be playing at treating her like an American, but she felt sure, right to her bones, that the little smile Kwan gave her had nothing to do with delight at her presence and everything to do with the fact that she’d walked right back into his clutches. He recognized her, even if he hadn’t said it. Which meant that not only had she been deluding herself, but instead of finding Elena, David would find Yanna’s decapitated, mutilated body.
She wanted to scream and take off in a hard s
print when Kwan opened the door to his digs—a two-story cement-and-stone monstrosity nestled into some Chinese-style gardens with bright lights turning the place into a garish display. Torches on either side of the door, worried by the breeze, gave off an eerie effect, as did the giant red Buddha that stared at her with glassy eyes as she followed the entourage into the house.
Kwan hadn’t quite figured out what world he fit into, evident in the Asian sprays of orchids and a small fountain that was centered in the entryway and separated the main room from the dining room. The European Kwan showed in the animal skins on the floor, the black-and-chrome furniture, the flat-panel television above a gas fireplace. Beyond that, a steel stairway led to a second floor, one that overlooked the main room and hinted at numerous bedrooms.
It reminded her of the yacht, and she pressed her hand against her stomach, which might give way any second.
Kwan motioned them toward the main room, picked up the gas remote and lit the fireplace. Yanna stood at the edge of the sunken living room, frozen as Kwan sat down on the sofa, used the remote to turn on music—not opera—and put his arm around his girlfriend. Ari leaned back against Kwan, pulled her legs up on the sofa, kicking off her heels.
“Join us,” she said to Yanna.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Yanna said, serious now about the lurching stomach. In fact, maybe she should run.
Kwan smiled at her—not a nice smile—and motioned down the hall. Near the kitchen.
The kitchen…maybe this might work…
“Shei-shei,” she said, and walked down the hall, locking herself in the bathroom, flicking on the light and staring at her sorry self in the mirror.
She looked scared. In the wide eyes, the platinum-blond hair, the too-red lips. Flushed skin, all the way down to the edge of her dress, and a heartbeat tattooing at the base of the neck told her that Kwan must be in the next room laughing.
Laughing.
Laughing. At her fear. At her hopes of finding her sister.
At the fact he’d lured her to his house, to do…who knew what?
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