by Amelia Autin
“Not just kidnappings, though that’s how RMM—” He broke off, and Alana wondered what he’d been going to say. “But yes, that’s why we do what we do. Every man in RMM accepts that he could die, because much of what we do is extremely dangerous. Barring that, we could also go to jail, because some of the things we do are illegal. Not immoral, but illegal.”
Alana digested this. Then her brows drew together in a frown. “Only men?”
Jason cleared his throat. “Well...in the covert operations arm, yes.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“I do. You’re thinking women have been deliberately excluded, and that’s not true. If a woman such as Mei-li, for instance, wanted to join our ranks...if she trained as we train...if she was as dedicated to the cause as we are...
“But you have to understand this is a highly secret organization. We don’t recruit people to join except in very circumscribed circumstances. Remember, anyone who is added to the organization is a risk to every one of us. So the members of RMM only recruit their trusted friends. And a man’s friends are—for the most part—men.”
“Hmm.”
Jason laughed softly at her skeptical response. “You’re severe,” he told her. “But I’ll admit there’s a modicum of truth to your criticism.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So there is a...slight...bias against women in RMM. It’s not forbidden, and we do have some women in the organization, just not...”
“I see.” She thought about arguing further but realized the point was moot. She didn’t know any women who wanted to belong. And she certainly wasn’t about to criticize RMM just for the sake of criticism. Jason and RMM had saved her. She owed them the benefit of the doubt.
With that decision made, she changed the subject. “You reported the license plate number of the van this afternoon to someone in RMM, and they told you the plate was stolen.”
“Yes.”
“So there’s no way to track down those men today. What about when I was taken?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mei-li explained about the tracking device I was carrying, so I know how you found me. But the driver of the van who took me back to the DeWinters’ estate said that rescuing me was only part of the job—that you needed to take care of the men who kidnapped me.” She hesitated. “Since the police didn’t mention finding any bodies...I figure my kidnappers were long gone by the time you went back there.”
“Astute of you.”
Her gaze fell to her hand, still lying atop Jason’s. Then her eyes met his. “Would...would you have killed them?” Then she held her breath.
“Not like that. If they’d come in while I was rescuing you and I had no other choice, yes. But not in cold blood. We’re willing to break the law, if necessary, but we’re not judge, jury and executioner. Yes, we want to shut this triad gang down, but we want to bring them to justice. Not mete out a death sentence.”
She let her breath out in a rush. “I’m so glad.”
“Did you really think...?”
“I didn’t want to think it, but...I’ll admit the thought had crossed my mind. And it worried me.”
Jason didn’t reply at first. Then abruptly asked, “Do you know what RMM stands for?”
“Dirk mentioned that the night I was rescued. ‘Right Makes Might.’ RMM.”
“Yes. But I think if you know the context, you’ll understand better. It’s three words from a quote by Abraham Lincoln, a man who could put complex thoughts into simple words and phrases that touch the heart. The full quotation is, ‘Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it.’ Which means RMM tries to do what’s right. Not what’s expedient. Always.”
Jason turned his hand so it was clasping hers, and something in his face told her this was incredibly important to him. Not just what RMM would and wouldn’t do, but for her to believe it.
“I understand,” she whispered, needing to reassure him about this. “I do. I really do.”
She did understand, maybe even more than Jason wanted her to. Because she suddenly knew Jason wasn’t just a member of RMM; he had to be one of its founders. Which explained so much about him, and at the same time was incredibly appealing to her.
All her life she’d been ashamed of being her parents’ daughter. Had desperately attempted to overcome her upbringing. Not wanting people to judge her for something over which she had no control, she’d tried to do the same, tried to judge people by the content of their character, as one famous orator had movingly stated, and not by any other yardstick. She hadn’t always been successful, but she’d tried.
Here was a man who hadn’t merely tried; he’d succeeded. He didn’t care what the world thought of him. He didn’t care he was risking his life. He didn’t care if he went to jail for his actions. He did what was right. Always. That knowledge instilled in her a desire to emulate him. To be as fearless and true as he was. To be worthy of him.
* * *
Jason waited until Alana walked inside after he dropped her off that night before hitting speed dial on his smartphone. It rang and rang, but eventually went to voice mail. He frowned, then left a message to call him and disconnected.
He made the thirteen-plus kilometer trip in less than twenty-five minutes, despite the Saturday evening traffic, then pulled his rental car into the garage beneath his condo building. He inserted the key card and rode the elevator to the top floor—all his own. He was just walking into his condo when his cell phone gave off the ringtone reserved for Cameron Mackenzie, the Australian-born second-in-command of RMM.
“Cam?”
“You called?” a strong Australian accent said in his ear.
“Yes, about today.”
“White van. Stolen plates. Which you already know. We’ve got heung yau out on the street,” Cam said, using the Cantonese phrase that meant “fragrant grease,” the polite Hong Kong euphemism for bribes. “But so far, nothing. It’s like these chaps crawled into a hole and pulled it in after them.”
“Have you checked the hospitals? It’s possible I did some damage to one of them.”
“Already done. And no, if you cracked his ribs, he didn’t visit any of the emergency rooms for treatment.” Cam’s voice turned dry. “Of course, there’s more than one doctor in Hong Kong who’ll treat someone on the QT...for the right price.”
“Understood.” Frustration made him ask, “What about the women this afternoon? Any of them think they were stalked?” It was a long shot, but...
“No dice. Seems to be completely random, like the woman who was abducted two weeks ago. Like Miss Richardson.”
Something was niggling at the back of his mind, but Jason couldn’t put his finger on it. “They’re getting bolder,” he told his second-in-command. “All the other cases were women on their own, weren’t they?”
“So it would seem.”
“Any traction on the other end? How the women are being smuggled into Macau?”
“No.” Jason cursed under his breath, and the other man offered, “They’ll slip up eventually, Jason. They’re not that good—just lucky so far. But they’ll slip up, and that’s how we’ll catch them. Mark my words.”
“Would you make book on that?”
A chuckle sounded in his ear. “Making book’s illegal in Hong Kong, mate...unless you’re the Hong Kong Jockey Club. Ask me next time we’re in Macau.” With that, the other man disconnected.
Jason strode toward his home office and logged on to his laptop. As CEO of Wing Wah, he was never really “off the clock.” While he had a legion of senior and junior vice presidents to help him manage the far-flung enterprise, there were still some things that
could only be decided by the man at the top.
And then there were his RMM-related activities. There were three other ongoing covert operations in addition to the triad gang they’d been after for months on this prostitution thing, and all three demanded his attention.
The highest priority operation of the three was attempting to put a curb on certain kinds of pornography. Jason wasn’t idealistic enough to think it could ever be eradicated completely—as long as there was a market for it, there would be people willing to meet the demand. But if the rumors were true, too much involved young women who were coerced into it by threats, drugs or other means. If RMM could make a dent in the supply business, he’d be happy.
Not quite two hours later he shut down his laptop and turned off the desk lamp. Then sat there in the dark for a moment, thinking about Alana.
Alana. So fragile, and yet...the heart of a warrior. Quick-thinking, too. He’d noticed that about her from day one, but if he’d needed anything to reinforce that belief, her actions today were proof. He prided himself on his reaction time, but Alana had been there before him, fighting to free the woman being abducted before their eyes.
God, was there another woman like Alana in the whole world?
Thinking of her made him need to hear her voice, and before he could tell himself not to, he’d called her cell phone.
“Hello?”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the digital clock glowing red in the darkness. He hadn’t realized it was so late, probably too late to call. But he’d already done it and Alana had already answered, so...
“Alana, it’s—”
“Jason.” His name on her lips sliced right through his defenses, and for a moment all he could think of was having her say his name exactly that way...in his bed. His imagination accelerated right into overdrive and he hardened in a rush, envisioning everything he wanted to do to her. Everything he wanted her to do to him.
“Jason?”
The question made him ruthlessly rein in his thoughts...though not without regret. “I wanted to thank you for today,” he said when he could trust his voice not to betray his desperate need. “And to apologize again for putting you in a dangerous situation.”
“You already apologized more than once—you really don’t have to apologize again. How could you possibly know what would happen?” The firm note remained in her voice when she added, “And if one of us should thank the other, I should be thanking you. Not just for a mostly wonderful day, but for rescuing me again.”
“I didn’t—”
“Of course you did. I’d have a black eye, or worse, if you hadn’t stepped in to prevent his fist from making contact with my face.”
“Oh, that.”
He could tell from her voice she was smiling. “Yes, that. And then afterward, when I was having a panic attack...” Her voice softened. “Thank you for holding me. How did you know that’s exactly what I needed at that moment?”
Instinct, he thought, and knew it for the truth. But he wasn’t sure Alana was ready to hear that he would always know exactly what she needed...because he knew her. Instead he said, “It seemed like the thing to do.”
“You’re right. It was.”
For a minute neither said anything more. Then Alana asked, “Was there something else you wanted to say?”
“Are you free tomorrow? I’d like to make up for today.”
“You have nothing to make up for. But yes, I’m free. Tomorrow’s Sunday, remember? And I’d love to spend the day with you again.”
“Is there any place in particular you’d like to go?”
“Other than the places you’ve taken me to, I’ve hardly been anywhere so far. To the Peak, of course, since it’s just up the road. But other than that...I’m open to suggestion.”
“No boat trips around the island?”
“No. Just the Star Ferry to the mainland.”
“What kind of sailor are you?”
“I don’t get seasick, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m asking. How about a tour around the island, then?”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Dress in layers—the wind can make it feel cold even if the sun is warm. Ask Mei-li. She’ll know. Oh, and you’ll want to do something with your hair.”
* * *
Sunday dawned bright and beautiful, and Alana was up with the sun. Jason had told her to leave everything to him. “Don’t even eat breakfast,” he’d warned her. “I’ll take you to my favorite dim sum restaurant before we set sail.”
Following Mei-li’s advice, she braided her hair and coiled it up, then took the hat Mei-li loaned her and fitted it into place. She was already dressed in an outfit that vaguely resembled boating toggery, with multiple layers as both Jason and Mei-li had advised, topping it off with a light jacket in her favorite lavender blue. At the last minute she tied the lavender and amethyst scarf Jason had bought her yesterday around her throat. It was beautiful and she loved it already, but she also remembered the look in Jason’s eyes when he’d said, It gives me pleasure to see you wearing my gift, Alana. Would you deny me that small enjoyment?
The doorbell rang just as she was double-checking the contents of her purse. Alana rushed to answer the door, but Mei-li was there before her. Hand on the doorknob, Jason’s sister said, “Just one thing before you go.” She hesitated for a second, then continued on a rush, “You’ve been pretty much living in Jason’s pocket for the past two weeks, and I’m glad about it. I am. Please don’t misunderstand—there’s nothing I want more for Jason than for him to find the kind of happiness I’ve found with Dirk, and I think you could be the one, Alana. I truly do. But Jason has been hurt more than you know. More than he’ll ever tell you. So whatever you do, please don’t break his heart.”
Chapter 7
“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Jason cast a glance in Alana’s direction before turning his attention back to Mount Austin Road.
“I...” She wasn’t about to tell him what Mei-li had said just before she walked out the door this morning. I’m not a femme fatale, she protested in her mind. I don’t go looking to break hearts.
Even the man whose proposal she’d turned down three years ago, the man whom she’d known genuinely cared for her—she hadn’t broken his heart. She’d let him down gently and had never told anyone about it, not even Juliana. Then she’d introduced him to a close friend, one whom she’d known was perfect for him, and voila! The happy couple had become engaged a year later. He’d even thanked her afterward.
So what had Mei-li meant? Jason has been hurt more than you know. More than he’ll ever tell you...
Looking at Jason now, so supremely self-confident, you’d never think he’d been emotionally wounded. And yet...what had he replied yesterday when she’d said it had to have been a lonely life for the boy he’d been?
It wasn’t too bad. I had two close friends, Sean and David.
And all at once she realized exactly what Mei-li had been driving at. The British were notorious for understatement, which meant Jason would never tell her outright just how tough his childhood had been, or how much he’d depended on his friends...one of whom had died in heartbreaking fashion when Jason was only twenty-three. But he’d given her clues. Clues he probably didn’t realize he’d dropped.
“Alana?”
“Oh, sorry.” She schooled her features so her thoughts weren’t reflected on her face. “I was...thinking of something.”
“You’re not reliving yesterday, are you? Or three weeks ago?”
“No. Oh, no. I’m okay. Really. I’m not as fragile as I look, honest.” She gave a little laugh. “In fact, my cousin Juliana says I’m one tough cookie.”
Jason slowed for a curve and shifted gears. “Really.”
The disbelieving note in his voice made her say, “Really. She says it’s because I don’t crumble at the first sign of trouble.”
He darted a look at her. “That’s true. You don’t.”
“I might fall apart afterward, but—”
He removed his left hand from the gearshift and placed it over her right one momentarily. “I wouldn’t call it falling apart. It’s a perfectly normal physical reaction. Adrenaline allows the body to accomplish superhuman feats, but once the adrenaline rush wears away...”
“Has it ever happened to you?”
His answer was a long time coming. “Once.”
“Would you...would you tell me about it?” She waited, almost holding her breath, and was eventually rewarded.
“It was a long time ago, shortly after I...joined RMM.”
Founded RMM, she translated in her mind. “Yes?”
“I killed a man.”
A tiny gasp almost escaped, but she managed to hold it in. Jason had told her yesterday he didn’t kill in cold blood, so despite the automatic reaction she couldn’t help, she knew immediately that whatever had happened, whatever he’d done, had been justified.
“Tell me. Please.”
He breathed deeply, then let it out long and slow. “It was a kidnapping. One of Mei-li’s earlier cases. The seven-months-pregnant wife of a supposedly wealthy industrialist here in Hong Kong.” Some latent emotion was reflected in his suddenly clenched jaw.
“And?”
“Mei-li came to me, begged me to lend her—” He broke off, then continued as if he’d never stopped. “She begged me for help, because the kidnappers were threatening to send the man his unborn baby in pieces if he didn’t pay.”
This time she couldn’t suppress her gasp, and Jason glanced at her for a second, then turned his attention back to the road. “The man would have paid anything they demanded,” he said, his voice hardening. “Problem was, he couldn’t. He didn’t have the money. He’d overextended and couldn’t even come up with half of what the kidnappers were demanding. Mei-li had negotiated them down as far as she could, but then the kidnappers dug in their heels.”
