by Everly, Liz
“Good night, Maeve,” Jackson said, laughing, and then left her door.
Chapter 20
“Another root plant that enjoys a high reputation as an aphrodisiac is the root of the ginseng. Native to Asia and North America, Koreans drink it in the form of tea, Chinese chew it raw, and many Europeans, despite its outrageous cost, grind it into powder and put it in stews. Nearly everyone claims that their way is best and all are quite sure ginseng is effective in stimulating men and women to heightened passion. The most unusual recipe for ginseng probably belongs to the Meskwaki Indians of Wisconsin, who chop the root finely and then combine it with rattlesnake meat and gelatin to make a kind of pudding,” Maeve read from a clipping in Chef’s book.
“Great, here we are going to China and the most interesting recipe is back home in the U.S.,” Jackson said, wishing Maeve’s sudden burst of energy would quiet. He was tired. Still not feeling well from his concussion. And he was a bit on edge, afraid to fall asleep during their thirteen-hour journey, afraid of what he might miss, or might wake up to. But he closed his eyes, just so she’d stop talking about the project. The next thing he knew, she was shaking him to wake up.
“We are here,” she said, holding her cell to her ear. “It’s Alice. She wants to talk to you.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“We’re making this trip shorter than expected. So you’re going to have to hit the ground running. Are you up for it?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said.
“Cutting it short because the truffle season is starting and we need to get you to Italy.”
“Italy? Christ. We just landed in Hong Kong. I thought India was next.”
“So we’re scrambling it up a bit. Be on your toes,” she said.
What an odd thing to say.
“What’s going on?”
“We’ve gotten some threats,” she said. “The mushroom Chef had was one that he was allergic to. Someone who knew him, knew of his allergy, fed it to him. You don’t need to share that information with Maeve right now.”
“Okay, yeah, sure,” he said. Great. Now he was keeping secrets from Maeve.
“While you’re there, don’t go off with anyone. Stick to the itinerary.”
“Sure.” What the hell?
He handed the phone back to Maeve and rolled his eyes.
But damn, that was a bombshell. Whoever had killed Chef knew he was allergic to the mushroom. Jackson didn’t like the way this was playing out. Chef was killed. Murdered. And he’d been beaten up. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Or could it?
Alice’s voice had an edge to it. She knew more, perhaps, than what she was telling him. Of course. He was the monkey-photographer—hired to take pictures. She wasn’t going to tell him everything, just enough to worry him. What was it she had said? Keep on his toes?
He and Maeve waited for the line in the aisle to thin out before getting off the plane. The airport in Hong Kong had these huge, futuristic glass domes, reminding him of the Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C. When they came down from the plane on the large tube-like pathway there was a sea of people. Mass confusion. Odd, acrid smells. As they walked through customs and immigration, Maeve pointed to one dark-uniformed man. He was larger than many of the people there, watching them intently. As they dragged themselves through one more security check, they saw him holding a sign with Maeve’s name on it.
For a moment, Jackson thought he’d seen a blond woman looking at him. She was standing next to the curb one minute—the next she was gone. Was that the same woman he had seen in Hawaii?
Maeve was pulling on him to direct him to the chauffeur and their limo.
Jackson was not into men—at all—but God, he was spectacular! Who was he? A movie star?
“Hello,” Maeve said to him, sparkling from head to toe. “I am Maeve Flannery.”
Could she be any more obvious?
“Hey,” Jackson said, shaking his hand. “Jackson Dodds.”
“Greetings. I am Ji,” he said in a crystal clear voice with a slight Chinese accent. His dark hair fell in his eyes and loosely framed his face. His eyes didn’t leave Maeve as he shook Jackson’s hand.
Jackson cleared his throat and frowned, looking directly into Maeve’s blushing face. She looked quickly away from him.
Ji placed their bags in the trunk. Evidently they had gotten there before she had.
They slipped into the backseat of the long limousine’s white leather seats. A chilled bottle of champagne awaited them, along with chocolates and cookies. Ji sat in the front and placed a chauffeur’s cap on his head. “You are staying with the Mei-Lei family. Correct?”
“Yes,” Maeve said.
This man shot her a look full of magnetism.
What the fuck? Jackson was becoming more than slightly annoyed.
“Please,” he said. “Help yourself to the refreshments.”
She uncorked the champagne. “Care to join us?” She poured a glass and handed it to Jackson.
“No, Madame. I am your guard, your chauffeur. A hired man. It is inappropriate.”
“Oh,” she said, sipping from her bubbly. “Too bad,” she added. “The champagne is quite good. The chocolate … well,” she bit into it, sucking out the cherry from inside. He swerved to miss another car. “Mmmm,” she said. “So good.”
Jackson watched as the man’s eyes caught her in the mirror—looking like he could eat her with one bite. Jackson took a drink of his champagne.
“Can I have some?” he asked.
“What?”
“Some chocolate?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sure,” she said, not even really looking at him.
Ji drove them through city block after city block. Flashing lights, marquees, and people everywhere. Finally they reached an apartment building. He pulled up along the sidewalk, got out of the car, and opened the door. She was feeling slightly tipsy, and grabbed his arm to steady her. Just as Jackson was getting out of the car, he saw the slight embrace. He pulled quickly from her.
“Madam,” he said. “I will see you later. Please go up to the fiftieth floor. They are expecting you.”
“Our bags?” she said, getting herself together, as Jackson brushed up against her.
“I will take care of everything.”
Jackson turned and looked directly into his eyes, meeting them with as much bravado as he could muster—but Ji’s black eyes held such confidence. He knew what effect he was having on Maeve—just the way Jackson knew his effect on women. Touché.
“So did Ji treat you well?” asked Mr. Mei-Lei, after they sat down in front of a plate of fresh shrimp.
“Oh yes,” Maeve said, peeling morsels of shrimp. “He made me feel very comfortable.”
“He can sometimes be a problem,” said his wife. “Good help can be so hard to find. He has an eye for the women, you see.”
“I noticed,” Jackson said. Maeve elbowed him.
“That’s his business,” Mr. Mei-Lei said in a gentle scolding tone. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with his work.”
“I am most interested in your work,” Maeve changed the subject. “The ginseng. I understand you have the largest supply in China,” she said after swallowing her bite of shrimp.
“Yes,” he said. “And my wife makes a wonderful dish with it—but if you want the best effects from it, it’s best to chew it, raw.”
“Interesting. Are you willing to sell some to our representatives in the U.S.?”
“If the price is right, my dear,” said his wife. “You know ginseng has been so maligned by the West.”
“Yes, well. Our book is about aphrodisiacs and the research I’ve seen suggests that Chinese ginseng is the only ginseng in the world that might actually have those properties.”
“Your research is absolutely correct,” Mr. Mei-Lei said.
Just then, Jackson felt someone behind him. He turned to see Ji.
“He is your guard and will be with you most of the day, every day, until you are tucked saf
ely into bed.”
“Oh,” Maeve said, unable to hide her delight.
“It’s just a precaution, but we do want to keep you safe.”
“Is that necessary?” Jackson said.
“Absolutely. You agent has seen to it. We understand you’ve had some problems. We don’t want there to be any problems during your stay here.”
Jackson glanced at his bodyguard and doubted he was interested in protecting Jackson at all. And as he looked at his partner, he knew protection was the last thing on her mind—and his stomach churned in jealous rage.
Chapter 21
The day after they toured the ginseng farms and processing businesses, Mrs. Mei-Lei—Lotus—wanted to take them shopping. Hong Kong was one of the best places to shop in the world. It was hard to tell Lotus that Maeve simply wasn’t a shopper, so most of the designer names—Givenchy, Chanel, and so on—were lost on her. She ordered most of her clothes and books online. Downloaded her music from the Internet. She hated the shops and the crowds, which were worse here than she had ever seen in New York.
One shop sparked her imagination. “Suki’s Little Shop of Aphrodisiacs.”
“I knew you’d like this place,” Lotus told her, with a sly smile. Jackson preferred to stand outside the shop and wait for them. Ji stood behind her, holding shopping bags full of Lotus’s new jewelry and Maeve’s new lingerie.
The shop was tiny and dark, and she could swear Ji brushed up against her a few times, and she felt an unspeakable heat emanate from him through her almost sheer skirt. Huge jars of powdered mixes and all colors of liquid—golds, ambers, blues, purples—lined the walls.
“This is one of our biggest sellers,” the lady behind the counter said in English. “It is a ginseng mixed, supposedly, with rhino horn. Of course, rhino horn is illegal. But it is very strong. Only very sexually powerful and healthy people can handle it. And if you eat too much, you can have a heart attack. I tell all my customers, just a little.”
“I’ll take some,” Maeve said and pulled out the publisher’s credit card. The shocking total for one pound? One thousand dollars. Maeve shrugged. “Can I have a small bag for me and can you please send the large bag to this address?” She wrote Alice’s address down, with a note—“Ginseng and ‘rhino horn.’ Yours, Maeve.”
While she was filling out the paperwork, she heard Lotus chatting and squealing with an old friend she ran into.
“Do you mind”—she turned to Maeve—“if we do more shopping with her?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I am a little tired. Perhaps you two could go and Ji could take us home?”
Ji offered to take Maeve and Jackson on a drive through the countryside. They agreed.
As he was driving out of the city, past all the lights and the ultramodern-looking architecture, toward a mountain, Ji turned the music up louder. “This is Victoria Peak,” he said, looking directly at Maeve in the mirror. “I’ll take you to the places tourists don’t know about, eh?”
“Am I even here?” Jackson whispered to her.
Of course you are, which makes it all the more delicious, she wanted to say. Instead, she shrugged.
Maeve dug around in her purse and found the Baggie of aphrodisiac. She drew in a deep whiff of the stuff. Interesting. She wet her finger by putting it in her mouth, then plunged it into the bag. Then she licked it.
“Mmm,” she said. “It has a bite.”
Ji looked at her and kind of growled. “Careful,” he then laughed, turning off the country road, then stopping the car. Maeve sat still in the huge backseat next to Jackson. Her heart raced as she thought of the one kiss she shared with him. A sudden longing came over her. She looked at Ji. Gorgeous. But the intense pull in the center of her was focused on Jackson. Her eyes met his.
“Come,” Ji said, after he parked the car. “I will show you something. My special place. Not many people know it’s here, so close to the city.”
Maeve slid out of the car, her skirt riding a little high on her thigh. Ji saw it and ate her with his eyes. Jackson cleared his throat and nudged her. She followed him up old stone steps and could smell jasmine heavy in the air. When they arrived at the top, she saw an old temple or church with an expansive view of the city, beyond a lush forested mountainside. Crickets were chirping loudly.
“Ji,” she gasped. “This is stunning. Thanks for bringing us here.”
It was barely light, but she could see carved images in the walls, statues of ancient gods and goddesses looking over them. A very round ass there. Breasts. A huge phallus there. It was a feast for Jackson and his camera.
Ji looked at Jackson and whispered to Maeve. “Another lifetime, perhaps.”
His words sent shivers through her, just before she heard a loud popping noise and the next thing she knew Ji was on the ground and Jackson was pulling her behind a temple doorway.
“What the fu—” What was happening?
“Shhh! Stay down,” Jackson said, as Ji crawled to the doorway. He was bleeding through his white jacket. His whole shoulder was red—and it was spreading by the minute.
“Not that bad,” he whispered, pulling out a gun from inside his jacket somewhere and handing it to Jackson, who oddly enough took it and held it with confidence. He pulled on the safety—or at least that’s what she thought it was. And the gun was ready to be fired.
What did he know about guns? Maeve tried to look around the place to see anything—light, shadow, movement—but it was difficult while plastered to the old, hard cracked concrete of a floor, tucked in between an ancient door and a wall.
Another shot rang out—the bullet hitting the edge of the doorway.
“Jesus,” Jackson said, eyes wide.
Maeve felt every drop of her blood rush through her veins. Just breathe.
“Calm down. Listen,” Ji said. “Take aim over there. That’s the direction it’s coming from. Shoot twice. That way they know you mean business.”
For a man who had just been shot, he had a clear mind, even though he was wincing in pain.
Jackson aimed the gun, shot once, then again. The scent of a just-fired gun stung the air. They heard the unmistakable sound of a body going down and a loud cry. A man. In the forest. Shot by Jackson. The next thing Maeve knew, he was gone, bounding toward the noise.
“Foolish man,” Ji managed to say. “Brave, but foolish.”
Chapter 22
There are times in every man’s life when it all comes together. When it gets as clear as it’s ever going to get. The sharply honed focus. The cool gun in his warm hand. His camera on the ground. Jackson took off and didn’t feel the weight of his feet as he lurched forward into the forest.
For the first time in his life he was grateful for his thug of a father, who taught him from the age of nine how to shoot a gun, who insisted on target practice almost every Saturday until he was about sixteen, when the old man finally took off with one of his women, his family never to see or hear from him again. So Jackson knew guns. But he had turned away from them and everything his father’s life represented to him. Violence. Drugs. Gambling. Not for him.
Years ago he replaced his weapons with his camera—and had been grateful for every opportunity to get away from the old neighborhood in the Bronx. As he found the man on the hillside, with a sprawling Hong Kong in the distance, his first thought was of mercy. The man had been shot in the chest; he was gasping for air. Jackson leaned down on his knees and had started to help the man when he felt a sharp thud on the back of his head and everything went black.
The next thing he remembered was a bumpy ride in the car, Ji beside him—his face a bloody mess. Maeve at the wheel. “Are you okay, Jackson? Jackson?” She was saying, trying to keep her eyes on the road and navigate a city she did not know.
“Great,” Jackson managed to say before the blackness came again.
He could hear voices.
Maeve. “What do you mean another concussion? He’s just had one.”
Male voice. “We are sorry.
Yes. We can see that. Barely healed. He needs to stay here.”
“Here? We are scheduled to be in Italy in a few days.”
Italy? Why were they going next? Didn’t they know that India was on the way? Oh yeah. Right. Truffle season.
“I understand, but he’s not going anywhere,” a more forceful male voice said.
Pain shot from his neck to deep in his back, then his head. Man, someone really hit him. He tried to open his eyes to ask what the heck happened, but the heaviness in them took over.
His eyes fluttered open to a soft light and a figure standing in front of a window. Once he focused, he saw it was Maeve. “Hey,” he said.
“Jackson? You’re awake?” she said, rushing to his bedside.
“Looks like it. What happened?”
She grabbed his hand, held it in both of hers. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters. “
“Jeez, I must have been pretty bad to cause all that drama.”
“Don’t be an ass,” she said, smiling. “You’re my partner. Of course I care about you.”
But her eyes said more to him. And it both scared the shit out of him and excited him.
“I could use some water,” he told her. “I’m so thirsty.”
Just then a nurse came to him and fussed over him, taking his temperature, then getting him water.
“So spill. What happened on that hill? I only remember being hit … and shot at … and …”
“Yes, you went after the man who you shot. Do you remember?”
He nodded. The light was playing on Maeve’s skin. She looked almost luminescent. He was having a hard time concentrating, but he tried to focus on what she said.
“His partner dropped a huge rock on your back and head. That’s what you’re doing here in the hospital,” she smiled. “Where did you learn to handle a gun like that?”
“Long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you some other time. But what about Ji?”
Her face drained of color. “I have no idea,” she whispered. “I’ve not seen him. The Mei-Lei family fired him.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s very strange, Jackson. I don’t know what to make of it,” she said.
