“The threat has been immobilized.”
“Is that a professional opinion?” The man named Cox smiled thinly. “I guess your mind really did go unscrewed in that box in Thailand.”
Jared’s hands locked. “I believe that’s enough.”
“Is it? You said the threat had been immobilized in Kowloon, too, didn’t you? Look what a botch-up that was. Seventeen dead and a score more wounded.”
Jared stared at the streaked marble as if it might be hiding an answer to some vast and insoluble problem. “You’re wrong as usual. It was six dead, seven wounded.”
“And most of them were ours. Good men doing a job you weren’t fit to oversee. You make me bloody sick.”
“Take it outside, Cox. Take your team with you. Tell your superior he’ll have a complete report in triplicate waiting on his desk tomorrow.”
Cox’s ruddy face tightened. “He’d better. Otherwise there’ll be a lot more men here asking questions, and you might just get roughed up in the process. No one’s forgotten Kowloon.”
“Leave Kowloon out of it,” Jared said harshly. “You wanted Daphne and she didn’t want you. Why don’t you grow up and put it behind you?” From the cold way Jared spoke, Maggie knew he had said the same words before.
“You wish,” the man beside him snarled. “You wish. She was finished with you, you bloody Scot. She was going to turn Crown evidence.”
Jared shook his head. “And you believed her, because her hands were beyond magic and her skin was like golden pearls and she could do things that made you forget your own name. Don’t be a fool. Daphne Ling had a whole scrapbook full of men wrapped around her finger before she was even fifteen. It was what she was raised and trained for, and the Triads always collect on their investments. Especially the human kind.” He sounded tired suddenly, as if the story and its outcome belonged to someone else and he had heard it once too often. “Forget about Daphne. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”
“Like hell I will. She was going to break off with her husband and the Triads.”
Jared laughed softly. “No one breaks with the Triad. They’ve made criminal loyalty a high art form in Asia, and you’re either one hundred percent with them or you’re one hundred percent dead. Daphne had become accustomed to the style of life that narcotics, gambling, and prostitution provided for her. What could you give her on a common soldier’s pay?”
Cox reached for the pistol holstered beneath his arm. “She loved me, damn it. She was going to have my baby,” he snarled, pain and rage tightening his voice. “And you couldn’t stand it so you set her up, wiping out half a dozen innocent people in the process.”
“I didn’t set the bomb that took Daphne’s life,” Jared said tightly. “I didn’t oversee the final dismantling either.”
“But you gave the assessment. You set the m.o.” Cox’s finger stabbed into the air. “And you killed her, MacNeill.”
“Stop thinking with your hormones and read the files. The evidence backs me up.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn about files or evidence. We both know how easily papers can be changed.”
Maggie inched into the shadows, understanding enough to see that two men had been betrayed by a clever woman. Was this the source of the pain that filled Jared’s eyes when he thought no one was watching?
Jared paced to the window. “Do us both a favor and go home, Cox. Otherwise tell me what you really want here.”
“What I want is Daphne and the heat of her unforgettable body. Since I can’t have that I’ll settle for revenge. You’re going to pay for Kowloon. I’m going to see you dragged through the mud.”
“Better men have tried, Cox. Better men have failed.”
“Maybe you should have stayed in that box. Another year might have made you almost human.”
Jared pushed away from the fireplace. “Good-bye.”
“Don’t walk away from me, MacNeill. I’m not finished here.”
Maggie saw him pull the gun from its holster and level it at Jared’s back.
She crossed the foyer, lunged for a silver vase full of roses, and spun around, tossing the contents into the officer’s ruddy face.
The pistol jerked violently as water trickled down Cox’s cheeks. Two red roses fell, quivering against his shoulders.
“Attractive, Cox.” A tall man in black fatigues and a padded vest moved quietly past Maggie, then halted in a stiff military posture. Maggie recognized him from the police station in London. “You’ve work to finish outside. And you’ll holster that weapon before I remove you from duty permanently.”
Cox snapped a salute, while the roses continued their slow slide down his vest. “Yes, sir.”
“Outside. Finish the inspection detail. And clean off those bloody roses.”
“Sir.” Cox’s boots made wet, sucking noises as he crossed the room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints across the priceless old Peking carpet. Then he was gone.
The white-haired officer strode toward Jared. “Good to see you again, MacNeill.” He stretched out his hand, then gestured at the bandaged palm. “I won’t shake, if you don’t mind. Took a bloody sliver in training last week. Sorry about Cox. The man always was a hothead. I apologize for any unpleasantness.” The officer turned to Maggie. “Am I permitted an introduction?”
Jared seemed to hesitate. “This is Margaret Kincade. Her jewelry has been selected for Lord Draycott’s first exhibition. Maggie, this is Major Hugh Preston, Royal Marines.”
The thin, craggy face creased in a smile. “Call me Hugh, please.” He studied Maggie thoughtfully. “Exhibition? I suppose that would be the Abbey Jewels event. I saw something about it in a memo last week, but all this paperwork makes it impossible to remember anything.” He started to hold out his hand, then shrugged. “A bloody nuisance, this thing. It’s a pleasure, Ms. Kincade.” He turned crisply. “Well then, I’ll be off. We’ve the package safely contained now, and the first reports should be coming in within the hour. Some new chemistry, by the look of it. Possibly a new toxic agent.”
Jared gave no answer.
The older man seemed to consider his next words carefully. “Sorry to hear about Thailand. Those people should have been shot.” He took a hard breath. “Anytime you consider coming back, let me know.”
“I won’t.”
“Ah, well, too bad. Could have used you last month in that sweep up near Manchester.” He nodded to Maggie. “A pleasure, Ms. Kincade. Good day to you.” His boots tapped with military precision across the foyer and out to the front door. Then sirens keened, breaking the stillness.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Jared followed her to the window and traced the stiff line of her jaw.
Maggie swallowed. “She must have been a special woman.”
“Special isn’t the word,” Jared said harshly. “Tormented. Brilliant. Insatiable. But not special.” His hand anchored her shoulder. “Turn around, Maggie. Look at me.” She turned, almost against his chest, almost close enough to be swallowed up by the strange restlessness in his eyes. “What else do you want to know?”
All of it, she wanted to say. But the controlled tension in Jared’s body warned her that he was struggling with bitter memories, and Maggie was afraid the wrong question would hurt them both.
“It’s not easy to remember. It’s even harder to talk about. Still, you have a right to answers.” His hands tightened, then slid into her hair. “Ask me.”
Tell me about Thailand. Tell me about that box the officer mentioned. She swallowed. “Tell me about your job in Hong Kong.”
She felt tension lance through him again. “Antiterrorism. There was a flood of panic at the thought of millions of hostiles held back by flimsy wooden gates and checkpoints. If the Chinese government chose to move in, there was no way we could have stopped them. But in the end they didn’t. Instead there was a constant stream of isolated incidents. Most of it was criminal, part of the endless infighting of rival Triad gangs staking out a power base.” He m
ade a tight, angry sound. “That’s where Daphne Ling came in. She was Triad through and through, even though Cox still refuses to believe it. Her husband was a very highly placed ‘dragon,’ and I have no doubt it was his idea to see how many government agents Daphne could sink her lovely claws into.”
“Did she succeed? With you, I mean?” Maggie whispered, already hating this woman she had never seen.
“She tried. I think it amused her at first when she failed. Then she was not amused. I can’t go into all the details, I can tell you that she became a useful source for our own misinformation to the Triads.”
“You mean you fed her false information?”
“The information she received was…reworded.” Jared shrugged. “Don’t waste your sympathy on Daphne. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“What about that man Cox? Didn’t he know those things, too?”
Jared shifted restlessly. “He saw the evidence. Right up to the end, he argued that she was telling the truth.” When Maggie hesitated, his hands tightened. “Go on and ask. I don’t want lies between us. I’ll tell you what I can, even if it’s less than what you want.”
“What happened that day in Kowloon?”
“It was a setup. The bomb was planted by the Triads to make the British look like cold-blooded killers. The ruse might have worked if we hadn’t managed to move most of the Chinese civilians out of the way. When it was over, Daphne showed up and swore that the Triads had ordered her death. Cox put her inside a truck with the second bomb disposal crew and told her it was the one place she would be safe. But someone had stashed a little gift in her handbag.” Jared took a harsh breath. “They detonated the bomb right outside the National Bank of China, so it looked like British work. Cox saw the reports, but he refuses to believe them. He says I missed the second bomb—and that I did it on purpose. Now you see why the Chinese say keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Horror left Maggie silent. So much calculation and betrayal. The lines of Jared’s Chinese book slid through her head: All warfare is based on deception. “You wouldn’t do something like that.”
“No,” he said. “But try explaining that to Cox.”
“Is Daphne Ling why you left the service?”
“That—and other things.”
Maggie tilted her head. “What other things?”
Something moved in his eyes. The story of Kowloon had been savage and cold, but Maggie sensed that there was worse to come.
She had to know the rest of it. If there were shadows, she meant to share them with this brooding, honorable man. “Marston said you’d been posted all over the world. He mentioned Thailand.”
Jared’s hands tensed in her hair. “I was there. Three and a half years.”
The sirens were gone now. The abbey lay quiet around them, hiding the secrets of its own restless past.
“Was that your last posting?”
“It was.” Maggie felt him drawing away from her. Already he was back in some crowded Asian street or stifling jungle.
Maggie understood the spell of the past. She wondered if Jared had ever truly released that part of his. “Tell me what happened.”
“Do you really want to know, Maggie?”
She nodded, frightened by his detachment, as if he was considering a stranger’s past, rather than his own.
“You think you do, but you don’t.” His voice was cold and controlled.
“Let me decide that.”
“What’s there to say?” He moved one hand to the window, his face cast into shadow. “I made a mistake. I was caught. Nothing original about the story.”
“There’s more,” Maggie said softly. She locked her arms at her chest, frozen by the physical and emotional distance that lay between them, measured out in silence and unanswered questions. “So where does that leave us, Jared?”
“I’m trying, Maggie. God knows, I don’t want to keep you out. In so many ways you’re just what I’ve needed—a wild wind to storm through my life and knock me fiat.”
“Hardly a compliment,” she muttered.
“But it is. The best kind. I’ve been forced to change, and it’s come at a high price. I’ve had to question everything around me, but I don’t want to question you, Maggie.”
“Then don’t. Just open your arms and let me in.” She stood waiting, suddenly fearless, offering all she had to give to this quiet, restless man who faced death without a second thought, only to close up tight when questioned about his past. “After all, how bad could it be? You haven’t been involved in any junk bond scandals, have you?”
“You don’t understand,” he said harshly, not returning her smile.
“I’m trying to,” she whispered. Her hands slid around his waist. “You’ve just saved my life, Jared. I owe you.”
“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said harshly. His muscles bunched beneath her hands. “I don’t want you to do anything because you feel obligated.”
She read the stormy uncertainty in his eyes, where need waged a hard war with rock-hard principles.
Damn a man with principles, she thought. They both could have died an hour ago. They should be doing more important things than talking.
“People want me to pretend my past didn’t happen,” he growled. “But like you, I’ve never been good at pretending. Not much good at forgetting either.”
“Then don’t try.” She opened one hand against his chest, feeling the hard tattoo of his heart beneath her fingers. “Maybe it’s time you followed your advice to Cox. Put the past on a shelf, and leave it there while you get on with things, day by day and hour by hour. When you face it again, you might just find that your mountain has turned back into what it was all along—a molehill.”
“Is that what you did after your father disappeared?”
“More or less. I did my share of backsliding, but it finally worked.”
Jared brought his head down and brushed her hair with his lips. “What are you asking of me?”
Staring into his shadowed face, Maggie came to a grave decision, hoping it was the right one. The woman in her swore it was, but the awkward child and the insecure teenager whispered she was a fool to take such a risk on a man who was still so much a stranger.
“Stop talking, Jared. Stop thinking. Then kiss me.”
“Because you’re obligated?”
“Does this feel like obligation?” she whispered, fitting her slender body to his and sliding onto her toes to nuzzle his neck.
Jared closed his eyes, fighting desperately for control.
What she felt like was heaven, he thought, touching the pure burn of her spirit. It wasn’t a thing he could misread while in such close contact. He knew that she was offering herself freely, without reservations, without guilt, without shame.
Awed, he savored that vibrant light, so much a part of her character. Light was the secret to the power of her unusual designs. How could he share the shadows of his past and the cold certainty of his future with her?
“I want to kiss you. Part of me says I’m a fool not to.”
“I like that part,” she said. “He gets my vote.”
Sunlight pooled around them as Jared cupped the fine line of her cheek. “Understand me, Maggie. I’ve waited a long time to feel this way. I’m not running away.” He smiled tensely. “Not quite. You make me remember myself before Hong Kong. Before Thailand. The old dreams have come drifting back and I was so sure they were all dead. But gut instincts and flaring hormones aren’t enough to get us through.”
“They’d feel awfully good.” She gave a brittle smile. “I’m not all that—practiced in these matters, but I know touching you would be spectacular.”
He touched her mouth with his thumb, a feathered caress that left her trembling. He read the need that shimmered through her and its sweet, flaring afterburn. She’d never lied to him, never backed down, and never turned away. He loved her for that as much as everything else.
Love.
The realiza
tion slammed down, cold and hard like a winter storm that pounded without warning off the great gray loch where he’d played as a boy. How could he love her? What had he to offer but days of being an oddity, followed by the early death glimpsed with such stark clarity in that box in Thailand and a dozen times since?
It was torture to hold her and not push the sensual edge to its conclusion. Torture to care so much and know she was going to end up hurt, whether he stayed or walked away. Being a gentleman couldn’t save her now. They had crossed the faint, tenuous border that marked the edge of friendship and the beginning of intimacy.
Jared wanted her as his lover, wanted that with a force that left him speechless. He wanted the shuddering moments of discovery, thigh to thigh. He could already envision her face suffused with surprise when he drove her up to a pleasure she’d never imagined.
He closed his eyes, forehead to hers as he fought his hardest battle in fifteen years of dangerous work. “Time, Maggie. We both need it. So we can be certain of what we want.” He forced his hands to loosen, his face to shift into a smile.
“You’ve got one week,” she said. “Then I put on my war paint and come after you. Trust me, you’ll be sorry you made me wait.”
“Not one week. Less,” he said gravely. “I’ve got some things to settle with the abbey’s security and there will be questions for Nicholas to tackle. Whether he wants to go on with this exhibition, for one.”
“Under the circumstances, he probably shouldn’t.”
Jared brushed the soft fall of hair from her forehead. “You don’t know Nicholas. He’s as stubborn as a bad-tempered baboon. He’ll never let you off the hook.” He felt her swift spark of hope, followed immediately by its cruel extinction. “Put it on the shelf, Maggie,” Jared said, surprising himself as much as her. “Let’s both try. Just for a while.”
She shook her head slowly. “I ought to sic Max on you. Make him knock you down and seriously rough you up.”
“I’m in terror already. If he globs any more saliva over me, I might cave in completely.”
Her hands moved on his. Slowly they opened, and slowly they pulled free. “Go,” she whispered. “Take care of your work—and that thinking you talked about. But don’t take too long. I’ve discovered I’m an impatient woman.” She took a deep breath and shoved her fingers through her already tousled hair, leaving it a chaos of amber and gold in the sunlight.
The Perfect Gift Page 25