by Jade Kerrion
“It’s good to see you back in town, Miss Itani.” The white-haired man smiled fondly at her. “Will you be staying long this time?”
“I came back to see Jacques.” She patted her dark hair, which she had pulled into an elegant updo, accessorized with long silver hair pins. “I’m overdue. I must look like a mess.”
“You never could.”
“Oh, George.” She beamed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re so good to me.”
Rio tried not to gape. Where was the ice-cold assassin who looked like she was about to kick his butt back in the alley? How had she transformed so quickly and so utterly into a preening social maven who would, realistically and logically, fly halfway across the country for a haircut?
“George, this is Rio Loren. You know of him, of course.”
“Yes, indeed. Pleasure to meet you, sir,” George said warmly.
He had to be lying. Rio couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would know him. His father was well-known, perhaps, even his family, but Rio had spent far too many years out of the spotlight.
Zara glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Rio. “You’re going to love what I’ve done with my place. Elegant and timelessly classic—” She continued raving about her apartment until the elevator doors closed on them. Her mindless prattle immediately cut off as she tapped the button for the 12th floor.
Rio raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to continue telling me about the couch you got at Roche Bobois for the bargain price of $27,000?
She winked at him. “It was $27,499. Details are important.”
Her 12th floor apartment was as elegantly classic as she had promised, dressed in shades of cream and blue. The overall effect was one of serenity, which was, conceptually, the last thing he would ever have associated with her. “Not quite what I was expecting.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have chosen these colors myself, but he likes them.”
Rio’s eyes narrowed. He? Danyael? Zara did not look like the person who would go out of the way for someone she did not care for, but Danyael had disavowed an intimate relationship with Zara. Who was lying?
He glanced around the apartment, but did not see any evidence of anyone else there. Several doors were closed, however. Was it a trap? Had his cover been broken? Was she working for the triads?
How much did he trust Zara?
Not a single freaking bit.
How much did he trust Danyael?
A great deal more, even though he had met Danyael for all of five minutes.
And Danyael seemed to trust Zara implicitly.
Rio drew a deep breath. Danyael’s trust was good enough for him. What other choice did he have?
Zara walked across the living room and unlocked the window. It did not escape Rio’s notice that the locks were biometric, requiring both fingerprint and iris scans. He took another careful look around Zara’s apartment. He suspected a far more sophisticated technology lurked beneath the placid surface.
But before he had a chance to poke around, Zara looked over her shoulder. “Did you learn how to scale walls at DEA training?”
His jaw dropped. “You…”
“I what? Know that you’re a DEA agent? Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“My parents don’t.”
She looked unimpressed. “Either they’re clueless, or they don’t care about you very much. Can you do this, or would you prefer to wait here?”
Scale the walls? Hell, yes. He would get to Cixi, whatever it took.
Zara glanced at her watch and then stepped out onto the ledge.
Rio’s heart thudded. No safety ropes. And a twelve-story drop onto hard concrete—guaranteed to severely injure if not kill outright. But Zara gripped onto the brick façade and moved easily along the ledge as if she did it every day.
As a mercenary and assassin, she probably did.
He, however, didn’t. His responsibility as a DEA undercover agent was to watch, not participate. Rio wiped his clammy hands on his denim jeans and then followed her out onto the ledge.
The wind, channeled down canyons of glass, concrete, and steel, was stronger than he expected but the ledge was also wider than it had looked from the inside. He inched along, careful not to trade speed for safety, and reached the corner where Zara squatted, like a gargoyle—a pretty one, admittedly—perched over the city. She gestured with her hand. Four stories. Straight down.
Rio drew a deep breath. Nausea churned in his stomach. Down was going to be a great deal harder than across, even with the ridges between bricks serving as a makeshift ladder. It could be worse. He could be a hundred stories high instead of just twelve, but—he swallowed hard past the tightness in his throat—any number larger than one was already too large. A hundred stories. Twelve stories. It didn’t matter.
Don’t look down.
He ground his teeth. Not looking down wasn’t an option. He couldn’t make his way down by feeling his way through his shoes.
Zara, on the other hand, clambered down like she had spider genes.
Why wasn’t knocking on Shen Long’s front door a workable plan? Damn it.
The palms of Rio’s hands were damp as he scooted down the pillar, several brick lengths at a time. He passed darkened windows on the eleventh and tenth floor, but the windows on the ninth floor were lit. A bare-chested man stood with his back to Rio, facing a bathroom mirror and brushing his teeth. The man suddenly stiffened.
Rio froze. Damn it. Had he been seen?
The man turned and walked toward the window. Instinct, spurred by panic, sent Rio scrambling and sliding down several feet. A hand reached out of the eighth floor window and grabbed his arm, pulling him in. He tumbled forward and found himself on the tiled floor of a bathroom.
Zara slid the bathroom window back down before turning to glare at him. “You’re afraid of heights.”
Rio drew a deep breath, hoping to wait until his pulse returned to normal. No such luck. His vision swimming and his chest still heaving, he managed to force the words out through gritted teeth. “Yeah, so?”
To his surprise, Zara flashed a warm smile. “I respect courage.”
“Even stupid courage?”
“Especially stupid courage. Or maybe I’m just so accustomed to Danyael’s dumbass heroics that nothing fazes me anymore. We’re going this way. I hope you’re better at sneaking than you are at climbing.”
She led the way down a hallway and to a locked door.
“Where’s Cixi?” Rio asked.
“Downstairs, probably. Doing her thing.”
“I’m going to find her.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I’m here because of her. She stole my diamonds.”
“She may have had a good reason.”
“What kind of good reason could there possibly be?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Why do I always get the feeling you know far more than you’re saying?”
Zara shrugged. “Effective communication isn’t part of my job description.” She glanced at him, her violet eyes cool shards. “I work alone.”
Rio knew a warning when he heard one. If he gave her any trouble, Zara wouldn’t hesitate to ensure she was indeed working alone.
She tapped a code into the security panel next to the door and the lock slid back. The office was not a gleaming showcase but a messy stack of papers alongside laptops, some still encased in factory-sealed boxes and others a half-decade old. Irritation flicked over Zara’s face.
Whatever she intended, Rio suspected it was going to take a while. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Watch your back?”
“I watch my own back,” she said, not paying him any attention as she methodically worked her way across the room, checking each computer.
“What are you doing?”
“Verifying ISP profiles. We’ve hacked all the networked computers but can’t find what we’re looking for.”
“So you think it’s on a non-networked c
omputer?”
“Or in someone’s head. That will be my next stop, but blood is messy on carpet, so I thought I’d try this first.”
“I—” Rio turned his head at the murmur of distant voices. He slipped out of the office, quietly closing the door behind him. The voices, louder now, came from downstairs. He crouched by the stairs, watching the play of light and shadows as people moved across the room.
A man’s voice, smooth like aged whiskey, said, “Those diamonds look beautiful on you.”
“They do, Father, don’t they?” Cixi sounded pleased. “The pendant really is the star of the collection, but earrings frame it perfectly. If I had to choose, I’d pick the earrings over the ring, but fortunately, I don’t have to.”
Another man, his voice brisker and rougher, spoke. “Hand them over.”
“They’re mine, Guan Yu.”
“They belong to Rio Loren,” Guan Yu said. “And they’re going back to him—”
Rio frowned. What? Morality, from the triad?
“—as soon as he pays for them.”
Cixi made a huffing sound. “When did we need another several million dollars?”
“Hah, the money is nothing, although we will squeeze him so hard, the veins in his eyes will pop. He must learn that we can always get to him, that he’s not safe until he stops.”
“Stops what?” Cixi asked.
“Working for the DEA.”
“Working for the…” Cixi’s voice trembled. “No, that’s not possible. Father?”
“I’m afraid it’s true, my girl,” Shen Long said. “We’ve known for a long time. We’re on top of things at the DEA—we have to be with so many of our assets tied up in X-2 and X-treme. You know his brother died of an X-2 overdose.”
“Yes.” Cixi nodded. “Was that what drove him to be a DEA agent?”
“No, he was a DEA agent long before that. He was their top undercover agent, and extremely effective because of his placement in society. He had access to the highest grade heroin and cocaine that the deadbeats on the street couldn’t afford, and he was on to us. His bosses at the DEA had assigned him to the X-2 trade in New York City. Rio hadn’t quite put all the pieces together, but he was getting close.”
“And?” Cixi continued when her father’s voice trailed off.
“And I took care of it,” Guan Yu said.
“What do you mean?”
“Knocked off his little brother.”
“You…You’re responsible for his brother’s X-2 overdose?”
“Yeah. The kid was snorting marijuana, high-grade stuff, but mere drips and drabs of it. He was afraid, always staying on the fringe, never going in deep. I swapped out his marijuana for grade one X-2, and then egged him into going deep, just once. He thought it was marijuana and took a huge snort.” Guan Yu chuckled. “His eyes glazed instantly. It hit him like a twenty-ton rock.”
Cixi inhaled sharply.
Her half-brother laughed. “The frat house boys panicked, of course, and they didn’t dare call 911. They thought he’d sleep it off. He never woke.”
“But why?” Cixi demanded. “He was a high school kid. He was probably contributing to your bottom line. He wasn’t in your way.”
“But his brother was,” Shen Long said.
“It broke Rio,” Guan Yu added. “He fell apart. He wanted to leave the DEA, but instead, his bosses talked him into going to Key West to keep an eye on the South American trade. I guess they figured that his rich little boy image fit perfectly with the year-long beach vacationer. Either way, it got him out of the way and bought us some time before the DEA managed to get another agent established in New York City. By then, we’d locked down our control over X-2 and X-treme. Rio was irrelevant.”
“So why do you want the diamonds? We don’t need the money, and he’s not in the way anymore.”
“He’s still damnably effective tucked down on that little island. He’s disrupted enough of the South American trade to upset the deficit. Supply is 25 percent lower than two years ago, before he started working the island. Prices have gone up, but the consumers can only pay so much before they switch to low-grade drugs or something else entirely; our profit margin is getting squeezed as a result.”
Cixi asked, “But what does it have to do with my diamonds?”
Rio bit back a snarl. My diamonds.
“They’re a message he’s been slow to hear—we can get to him at any time. There is no safety, no sanctuary anywhere.”
“And you think making him buy back his diamonds will make him back off? What if you just piss him off?”
“But it won’t. Shock and grief cripples him. They crushed him once after his brother died, and now, when he learns that you’re the one who stole from him, who betrayed him to his worst enemies—the people who killed his brother—the shock, betrayal, and grief will destroy him.”
Cixi laughed, the sound icy cold. “You’re a fool. You’re right that shock and grief cripple him. In fact, he’s still crippled. He never got his rhythm back after his brother’s death. He’s never fully lived or loved since. You overestimate my effect on him; he doesn’t give a damn about me.”
“But…you had sex with him.” Guan Yu suddenly sounded uncertain.
Cixi snorted. “You are so naïve. He wanted to believe I still loved him, that I never would have stolen it if I’d known its true value.”
“You did?”
“Of course. Do you think I’m an innocent waif? Having sex with him, convincing him that I loved him, was the only way to get close to the diamonds.”
“So you didn’t do it because I threatened to kill him?” Guan Yu sounded confused.
“What do I care about his life? If I didn’t get the diamonds before you killed him, it would have been a great deal harder later, but I certainly didn’t steal them to keep him alive, let alone hand over to you.”
“I…don’t understand.”
Cixi’s silvery laugh rang with a mocking, bell-like tone. “Did you really think I loved him?”
“You didn’t?”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. He—like all men—are merely a means to an end. Even you.” Her tone turned scornful. “Especially you.”
“You little bitch!”
Shen Long spoke up. “No. Mei Li is right. She is the only one thinking clearly. You, Guan Yu, have allowed yourself to be driven by a compulsion to crush Rio Loren, and for what? An imagined insult years ago?”
“It was not imagined!”
Cixi snorted. “But neither was it deserving of the attention you gave it.”
“What are you…I don’t…”
“You sound confused, brother dear. Is it because you’re finally realizing that I’m not a skinny doormat you can harass and assault? That I’ve been waiting, biding my time to prove to you and to our father that I am better? Worthier?”
“Worthier? To lead the triad? I am firstborn, and I am the son.”
“Do you think a mere accident of birth gives you any more right than me?”
“You weren’t even here two years ago?”
“So what? My loyalty to and love for my father have nothing to do with the passing of time. I know what kind of life I would have had if he had not opened his arms and his heart to me. I am my father’s daughter, and this—” She removed the earrings, pendant, and ring. The diamond glittered in the palms of her hand as she walked toward her father, holding them out like an offering. “For you, Father.”
“Thank you, I—”
A heavy hand landed on Rio’s shoulder, seized him, and swung him around. A burly man roared something in Chinese. Rio slammed his fist into the man’s midsection. The man’s arms flailed as he doubled over. His weight sent them both tumbling down the stairs.
“Rio!” Cixi exclaimed. “What—?”
“You brought him here!” Guan Yu flung the accusation out like a perfectly balanced dagger. “It’s a DEA raid!” His cry of alarm summoned armed bodyguards. “Get him! Her, too!”
&nbs
p; Rio sprang forward in that single moment of stunned surprise. He lunged toward Shen Long, but instead of reaching for the diamonds on Shen Long’s palm, he grabbed Cixi’s wrist and pulled her toward the door.
She tried to yank her hand from his. “What are you doing?”
“This way!” He dashed through the door and then ducked as bullets splintered the wooden door frame behind them.
“What the hell.” Cixi snarled. She reached into her boot and pulled out a tiny handgun.
Rio gaped at the weapon in her hand. His jaw dropped when her first shot punched through the left side of a man’s chest. Her second shot left a hole in the middle of another man’s skull.
The guards cowed, equally perplexed by the order to shoot the boss’s daughter and the impossibility of her fighting back.
“Get out,” Cixi ordered, not taking her attention from the doorway.
He suspected that the next person through that door would take a bullet in a vital organ, but she did not have enough bullets for everyone. “Not without you.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
He tightened his grip on her left wrist. “Swear it!”
She cursed in Chinese; he suspected it was far from complimentary. “Fine.” She jerked her head at a window. “Fire escape. Now, go.”
He grabbed a vase off the side table and swung it at the window.
“No, wait. That’s a Ming—”
The porcelain vase evaporated into a trillion pieces.
Cixi cursed even more vehemently that time.
The window cracked. Rio slammed his elbow against the crack, shattering the glass. He kicked out the window and scrambled out. Don’t look…don’t look down.
Damn. I looked.
He sucked in a deep breath, grabbed the fire escape ladder, and slid down. His heart rushed up into his throat, making it impossible to draw another breath. His eyes were almost glazed from lack of oxygen when his legs hit the ground and crumpled beneath him. Still alive.
But not if I don’t get moving.
In spite of the nausea churning in his stomach, he grabbed his Harley and revved the engine. A flicker of motion above him drew his attention back to the fire escape. A slender figure leaped out of the window, but instead of rushing down the fire escape, she jumped off the metal stairs, grabbed on to a pole attached to the building, and slid down it faster than a well-trained fireman.