by S. E. Smith
“Stay here,” Helen ordered, stepping over the items scattered all over the floor.
Makayla watched the detective search the front section of the sailboat. She returned and shook her head. Makayla glanced around the area.
“I found blood there,” she said, pointing to the area near her clothes.
Helen glanced around to where she was pointing. She bent and studied the spot. Makayla started to look away when a scrap of paper sticking out from the pocket of her wet jeans caught her attention. She bent and gently pulled it free. It was the piece of paper Brian had given her earlier that afternoon. Her gaze moved to the darkness that had already descended outside. It seemed a lifetime ago.
She turned the paper over. The number was blurred from the water, but she could still read it. She carefully tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans with her cell phone before turning her gaze to Detective Woo.
“I’ve called for a crime scene team. Please do not touch anything else. They will need to go through the sailboat,” Helen said.
Makayla glanced around her and shook her head. “The men were all wearing gloves. I don’t imagine they changed that when they came back. It looks like they were searching for something,” she said in a husky voice. “Can I at least put up the groceries?”
Makayla could see the hesitation on the other woman’s face before she shook her head in apology. She understood why, it was just that she felt so helpless. The mess was making the situation seem even worse.
“The team will be here for several hours. Once they have completed their investigation, you can clean up the area,” Helen explained in a tone filled with compassion.
Makayla nodded, looking out at the light rain that was falling. It almost seemed like a waste of time. Anything outside would have been washed away and the inside – well, she didn’t have much confidence in the police finding anything there, either.
A shiver ran through her, followed by another one and then another one. Makayla knew that shock was beginning to set in. She suddenly needed to get away. She couldn’t breathe. Turning, she climbed up the steps and out into the light rain. She pulled the hood up on the slicker she was wearing and stood indecisively looking around.
“Makayla…,” Helen began, stopping when Makayla turned to look at her.
“You said that it would take the crew a couple of hours to do their thing, right?” Makayla asked in a strained voice.
“Yes,” Helen replied.
“You have my number,” Makayla said. “Call me when you are done and I’ll come back.”
“Where are you going?” Helen asked in concern. “It is not safe to be out on the streets alone at night.”
“There’s a café about a mile from here. I’ll go there. I can get a cab to take me and bring me back,” Makayla whispered, suddenly needing to be alone. “I’ll stay in the café.”
“I will have one of my men take you,” Helen instructed, nodding to the assortment of vehicles pulling up in the parking lot. “I would take you, but I must oversee the investigation.”
“I understand. Thank you,” Makayla whispered, turning when several men and women came up to the stern of the Defiance.
Helen issued a swift order in Cantonese to one of the men. He nodded and looked at Makayla. Once again, Makayla felt the isolation of being in a foreign country.
“Officer Lee will take you to the café. I ask that you remain there until I call,” Helen Woo emphasized. “Until we know what has happened to your grandfather, Makayla, you could also be in danger.”
“I won’t leave until you call,” Makayla promised.
“Thank you, Makayla. I promise, we will do everything we can to find your grandfather,” Helen said.
Makayla nodded and turned to follow Officer Lee. She kept her head down to shield her face from the rain. A brief smile of thanks curved her lips when Officer Lee opened the passenger door for her before hurrying around to the driver’s side. The journey to the market was remarkably fast compared to riding the bike. Makayla murmured her thanks and slid out of the car. Minutes later, she was seated in the almost deserted café, her hands wrapped around another steaming hot cup of tea.
*.*.*
Ren Lu sat in his car that was parked across from the café. He had followed the long line of police vehicles into the marina and parked a short distance away. He wasn’t afraid that the police would find the item that had been stolen by Harrington. Unless they knew what they were looking for, they would overlook it. It had not been in the bags, so either the old man had hidden it or the girl had it. His gut was telling him the latter.
He watched the girl through the window. She looked tired, sitting with her head bowed and her hands wrapped around her drink. He glanced down at his watch. It was twenty-one hundred hours. The café was open twenty-four hours and the few people that had ventured out were beginning to leave. He would wait until there were fewer witnesses to deal with, and then he would go inside.
Ren Lu glanced down and pulled up the file that he had requested. A frown creased his brow when he saw an image of the girl when she was younger, standing on the same sailboat from the marina. His gaze was focused on the expression on her face. It was a haunting image. She was at the helm with her hair blowing and the ocean behind her. Whoever had taken the photograph had captured the moment perfectly. Ren Lu was surprised at the jerk of emotion it drew from him. He began reading the attached article.
Makayla Summerlin stole her grandfather’s sailboat in a single act of defiance that would change her life and touch the lives of millions….
Ren Lu glanced back at the image, feeling once again a spark of emotion. The frown on his brow deepened. He read the article. It gave him a better understanding of the woman on the dock who had defied death. When he was finished, he returned his gaze to the café. His eyes narrowed when he saw her paying the waitress and gathering her coat.
He opened the door to his car and slid out. Glancing back and forth, he waited until the traffic cleared to cross it. His hand slid into the pocket of his coat and he wrapped his fingers around the grip of the gun.
*.*.*
Makayla watched the police car pull away from the curb before she stepped up to the door of the café. Pulling the door open, she stepped inside and looked around. There were only a handful of people in it now. She walked over to one of the booths, slid her rain slicker off and tossed it on the seat before sitting down. Almost immediately, a waitress came to take her order.
“Hot tea, please,” Makayla requested in a soft, tired voice.
“Would you like anything else?” the waitress asked when she placed the tea on the table.
“A time machine,” Makayla responded before shaking her head in wry amusement. “No, nothing, thank you.”
The waitress nodded and disappeared around the counter. Makayla tiredly pushed back her tangled hair with a grimace. She had forgotten that she still hadn’t brushed it out. It was going to be a bear to get all the knots out now that it was dry.
She absently finger combed it with one hand while pulling her cell phone out of her pocket with the other. A piece of paper dropped onto the table. It had been stuck to her cell phone when she pulled it out.
Unfolding the paper, she stared at the blurry numbers. Brian…. He worked at the US Consulate. He might know what to do and at the moment, he was the only one she knew in the country. A part of her was afraid to call him, but the rational side of her knew she had no other choice. This wasn’t about her or the feelings she was trying to hide from – it was about Henry and bringing him home safe and sound.
She pulled her hand free from her hair and carefully pressed the numbers. Her hand trembled slightly when she lifted the phone and pressed it to her ear. He answered on the third ring.
“This is Brian,” he said.
“Brian…,” Makayla’s voice faded when her throat tightened with emotion. “Brian… This is Makayla.”
“Makayla, I’m glad you called,” his voice brightened in surpri
se and pleasure, and she felt the familiar pull of his deep voice on her emotions.
“Brian, I need… I need your help…. Something… something’s happened,” she whispered in a thick voice, the tears and emotion she had been controlling threatening to break through the wall she had built around them. She cleared her throat. “I’m at the café we were in this afternoon.”
“I’m on my way,” Brian replied. “Don’t leave. It will take me about forty-five minutes to get there.”
“I won’t – leave. I’ll wait,” Makayla promised.
“Are you in danger?” Brian asked in a clear, hard voice, sounding different than she remembered.
“I don’t know. I might be,” Makayla replied honestly.
“Stay where there are a lot of people,” Brian ordered. “I’m on my way.”
Makayla hung up the phone and bowed her head. Her hair fell forward, shielding her face in a curtain of dark, brown, tangled strands. She closed her eyes and drew in deep, calming breaths. It was important that she stay focused.
She sat back and opened her purse to pull out the small notepad she had in it. A grimace escaped her when she realized it was still damp from her swim earlier. She pushed it back in, pausing when it wouldn’t slide in as easily as it had slid out. She caught sight of the problem. It was the small box that had been in the canvas bag. She pulled the box out and tucked it in the inside pocket of her rain slicker. Once it was out of the way, the notepad slid into the small purse with no issues.
She pulled out a pen and fastened the clasp on her purse once more. Reaching for one of the paper menus from behind the box of napkins, she turned it over. It was blank on the back. With meticulous care, she began recording everything she could remember on it, including a small sketch of the face of the man who had shot at her.
She jumped when her cell phone vibrated. Glancing at it, she was surprised to see that almost forty minutes had passed. She touched the screen and saw the text message from Brian. He would be there in less than ten minutes.
Makayla looked up when she saw the waitress heading toward her table again and decided it would be best to pay and wait just outside the café. It had a large overhang that covered the metal chairs and small tables right in front of the large, pane glass window.
She reached over and grabbed her rain slicker. Pulling it on, she reached into her purse and drew out several coins. She picked up the bill and walked over to the cashier. With a murmur to keep the change, she pulled the hood of the slicker up over her head and pushed the door open.
Makayla turned left and walked to the end of the set of tables before stepping behind one and leaning against the rough bricks of the building. She was just by the edge of the window and could see the waitress talking to another worker behind the counter. A chilly breeze of damp mist blew past her and she shivered.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone to check the time. It was a little after ten o’clock. She slid her hand and the phone back into her pocket, grateful for the warmth of her jacket, and glanced down the street in the direction she thought Brian would come from.
Her body stiffened suddenly when she felt a hand wrap around the inside of her arm, and something hard pressed against her side. She slowly turned her head until her gaze locked with a pair of cold, dark brown eyes. She automatically tried to pull free, but his fingers tightened in warning.
“I wouldn’t, Miss Summerlin,” the man remarked in a cool voice.
Makayla frowned, anger building up and overriding her fear – anger at the man for hurting Henry – anger at his callous disregard for life – anger that he felt he had the right to harm another. It was misguided, but it was there and she grabbed the emotion with everything she had inside her because she knew if she let the fear take over, she would be dead.
“Where is my grandfather?” She hissed. “What do you want?”
The man studied her mutinous face. She lifted her chin, daring him to deny that he was responsible for Henry’s disappearance. For a brief moment, his cold anger changed to something else, something that she didn’t understand before his face hardened again.
“You,” he replied in a clipped tone before pressing his lips together in a tight, straight line as if he was surprised by his reply.
“Great! A pervert on top of being a criminal,” she muttered under her breath with a shake of her head and looked away from him.
10
Her softly muttered statement both amused Ren Lu and tantalized him. His fingers tightened on her arm and his eyes narrowed in annoyance at the unexpected reaction he had to the woman glaring back at him. This could create a problem if he wasn’t careful.
Distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t notice the car that suddenly swerved up onto the curb. His head turned toward the glare of headlights at the same time that pain exploded through his groin. He released his hold on Makayla’s arm when she jerked her elbow down and pushed against his chest.
Ren Lu stumbled back into the shadows just as a man threw open the door of the car and jumped out. He slid further back into the alley when he saw the gun in the man’s hand. Twisting, he disappeared into the darkness.
*.*.*
Makayla reacted instinctively when she saw the car coming. She used the distraction to turn into the man holding her and drove her knee into his groin. She had hoped the move would put him on the ground, but it hadn’t. It did give her the chance to pull away from him. Placing both hands on his chest, she had pushed him away from her before turning toward Brian.
She almost stopped when she saw Brian emerge from the car with a gun in his hand. Shocked, she forced her body into motion when he yelled at her to get in the car. A grunt of annoyance escaped her when she started for the wrong side of the car, forgetting in her moment of panic that the driver and passenger sides were reversed to the States.
Jerking the passenger side door open, she scrambled in and slammed the door, locking it for good measure. Her eyes widened when she saw Brian disappear into the dark alley. Afraid that something might happen to him, she fumbled to unlock the door. She was just opening the door again when he reappeared.
She watched him look both ways and slide the gun he was holding behind his back. Her gaze followed him as he walked back to the car. He pulled the door open further and slid into the car before shutting the door.
“Brian…,” she started to say.
He shot her a look and shook his head. “Not yet, Makayla, I want to get you out of here,” he muttered in a terse tone. “Then, I want to know what in the hell is going on.”
Makayla nodded, glancing back at the café as he pulled away. The waitress from earlier and several other people were standing near the front window excitedly talking and pointing. She turned back around and sank back against the seat in exhaustion. Raising a hand to her brow, she rubbed it.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Brian asked in a harsh, clipped tone.
“What? No, well, yes, earlier, but not now,” she admitted in a distracted voice.
“Earlier?” He gritted out the question between clenched teeth.
When he slid around a corner on the wet pavement, Makayla decided it might be safer to wait. She glanced at his face, then down to the hand on the stick shift. His knuckles were white. She fumbled for her seat belt when she realized that she had forgotten to put it on and an alarm began to ping.
They traveled several blocks at a dizzying speed before Brian slowed the car down. She noticed that he kept looking in the rearview mirror. Instinctively, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them.
“No one’s following us,” he said, almost as if he was reading her mind.
“Oh, good,” she murmured, folding her hands in her lap. “Thank you… for coming.”
Brian took several more turns before he pulled to the side of the road along a line of empty parking spaces. Makayla glanced up, surprised to see that they were in what looked like a business district. Tall skyscrapers lined each sid
e of the road, and unlike most popular tourist areas with their bright neon lights, the area was more subdued.
He shifted the car into neutral and sat looking out at the darkened streets. It had begun to rain again, causing the street lights to take on an eerie glow through the windshield. She bit her bottom lip when she saw the muscle throbbing in his jaw and his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. He finally drew in a deep breath and released it before he let go of the steering wheel and turned to look at her.
“What happened?” He asked in a quiet, controlled voice.
Makayla pushed back the hood of her slicker and turned as much as she could to face him with the seat belt on. Swallowing, she slowly began telling him about the events that had occurred after she had returned from the market. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded menu and held it out.
“I wrote down everything I could remember so I wouldn’t forget,” she whispered, suddenly drained. “I tried, Brian….” Her voice broke on his name and she drew in a shuddering breath and wiped an impatient hand across her damp cheek, only then realizing that she was crying. “I tried to stop them from taking him, but I couldn’t.”
Brian took the folded paper from her hand and set it on the console between them. Reaching up, he slid his hand along her cheek. Makayla turned her face into his warmth, needing the contact.
“I know you did, Makayla,” he replied in a rough tone. “You did the right thing. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Makayla’s gaze rose to meet Brian’s eyes in the dim lighting. Her lips parted and she drew in a swift breath when he leaned forward and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to her lips. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way – three years to be exact.
*.*.*
Two hours later, Brian quietly closed the door to the bedroom where Makayla was finally sleeping. He walked across the small efficiency apartment, grabbing the computer bag he had placed on the bar stool when they entered. Crossing over to the couch, he turned on the small lamp sitting on the end table next to the couch before he sank down onto the rich leather, and pulled the laptop out. He booted it up and entered his passcode.