“And when did fear ever set you back? What would Ni-Ni do at a time like this?”
“Charge on,” she said immediately. “Keep straight, walk tall. Beat the crap out of someone with a frying pan.”
“I got one of those,” Ren said.
Miri cracked a smile. “Maybe I’ll borrow it.” And she looked at Dean and said, “Do you want to take another reading of the jade now?”
“Tomorrow,” he said, suddenly weighed down by a terrible sense of inevitability. Lysander was nearby, as was Robert, and perhaps more of Kevin’s men, still working for some unnamed woman who wanted the jade. All of them, trouble. It did not matter if they took the time to plan or sleep, took a day to play and act like fools. The future was here. The future had arrived. It was only waiting to reveal itself—in gun or fire—and nothing they did would be able to stop it.
So rest. Get your strength back. It’s going to be the fight of your life and you have to be ready.
Miri did not protest as he took her tea and set it on the cooler. She did not say a word when he put her arms around his neck and picked her up from the chair. It felt good holding her close, being the one man in the world allowed to do so much for her. Even when they were children, Miri had only ever felt safe enough to ask one person for help. One person who was not her grandmother.
Koni and Ren watched. Dean gave them a look, a simple watch our backs, and the two men nodded.
He carried Miri downstairs and put her to bed.
* * *
Dean showered in Ren’s bathroom, pulled on some sweats, studied himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, tired. He needed to shave. His chest looked exotic, but a little less so than if part of it had been glowing. The word was dark. All was safe.
He left the bathroom. Hesitated a moment before going to Miri’s room. He knocked once, heard her voice, and opened the door. She lay on top of the covers. The robe was on the floor.
“Oh,” he said.
“You are planning on sleeping in here tonight, aren’t you?” she asked. Dean swallowed hard and shut the door behind him. He walked to the bed, staring at her naked body.
“Um,” he said. Miri smiled.
“Take off your pants,” she said. He did, and when she looked at him, when her gaze settled on his body and stayed there, it was hotter and sweeter than any touch he had received in the past twenty years.
“Nice,” Miri murmured. She reached out and touched him. Light, easy, fingertips brushing, feathering. Dean looked down and watched. Clenched his jaw so tight he thought he was going to break teeth.
“You like that?” she asked, and he heard a note of breathlessness in her voice that made him want to shout. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and sat down on the bed. Kissed her palm. Touched his lips to her fingertips. Breathed a trail up her arm to her shoulder and that lovely delicate collarbone that tasted so damn good he thought he would die. Her throat was hot, her jaw soft; kissing her lips was like sinking into the softest, warmest bed on a cold, cold night, and he could not stop, could not bring himself to come up for air, because every time he came close he thought of fire and blood, and how if this moment would last, if he could make time stop and bend and stretch, the danger would pass away inside some untouchable future, and all that would be left was him, her, now, here, mouth and body, heart and heart.
“This is our first time,” Miri said. Dean smiled against her mouth, running his hands around her sholders to draw her close. She leaned back, exposing her throat, and he kissed it, loved it, followed a sweet trail to her breasts. He had never touched them with his mouth, never hardly seen them but once or twice in his life, and it was good to explore, to savor, to practice all the things he had learned on the woman he loved.
He moved lower. Her hands trailed against his back, his neck, his hair, and his own fingers reached down to stroke a path over her leg, which curled, so sweet and hot, over his body. His heart felt good and he told her that, and she laughed, low, and said, “I love you, Dean Campbell. I love you so much.”
He kissed her stomach. He kissed her thighs. Her breath caught and he kissed another kind of heat, tasting sweetness as he pushed deeper with his mouth. Miri moaned and the sound rolled and rolled through his stomach, pooling lower, and the more she cried out the harder he got.
He worked at her with his fingers and tongue until she came, calling out his name in a gasp that had her arching off the bed, putting him in a headlock with her legs. He wrestled with her for a moment and lost on purpose. She wanted him on his back. He was happy to oblige, and Miri pinned him with a lazy grin. She slid down his stomach, wet, and he loved the feel of it on his skin. Down she went, down some more, and then her mouth closed over him and it was his turn to beg, his turn to squeeze the covers between his fists, because her tongue was so hot it seared his skin, and the things she did …
She stopped at the last moment and it was a good thing, though he wanted more and more and more than was possibly healthy for him, and he grabbed her hips, bouncing her, and said, “I hope to God you have some condoms, Miri, or we’re going to have a fucking problem.”
“Literally,” she said, then leaned over—her breasts in his mouth—and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand.
“Ren,” she said, holding up several packages.
“My name only,” Dean growled, and she squirmed against him until he cried out. Miri laughed, low, and straddled him in the other direction. She rolled on the condom. Dean touched her back, her hair, reached out to touch her deeper. She squirmed again, sliding against him, and it was fun watching her get off on nothing but his hand, that his fingers pumping and twisting could make her move like that, like all she was made of was pleasure. He moved his hand faster and she gasped, jerking against him in an awkward rhythm that was hotter than hell, and he wanted to be inside her, wanted to pin her down and see her face while she felt those things, watch her glow and writhe beneath his body as he moved.
So he did that. He stopped and she grabbed his wrist, which made him laugh and say, “Easy there, tiger,” and he sat up, pushed her off him, flipped her over with a twist, and then he was there, resting the tip of himself against her.
“You ready?” he asked, and it felt like the most important question of his life, because this was not just sex—this was history and love and loss and all that time apart. It was Miri beneath him. His best friend in all the world.
She did not answer with words. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she looked at him, dreamy and lovely, with her lips parted and her skin golden and rosy, and she shifted her hips down, swallowing the very tip of him, and he did the rest, pushing so slow he thought his eyes might burst from the effort. Miri exhaled and he moved, swallowing her next breath with a kiss.
He kissed and moved and rocked and thrust and clutched her close with his hands, cradled tight as he was within her legs, and he watched her face and said her name, and she smiled and laughed and moaned, until he felt her body quicken around him in a shuddering burst that had her jerking in his arms, throwing herself back, and he moved, on a whim, faster and faster, his own pressure building, and Miri kept up—oh God, did she keep up!—until finally he was the one lagging and he flipped over again, this time on his back, losing her for only a moment until she buried him in herself, hard, on top of him, making him cry out, and it wasn’t long before she did the same, and finally, finally, Dean let himself go.
And it was really, really good.
He fell asleep for a while, but when he woke up, Miri had her eyes open and was staring at his face.
“Hey,” he murmured, still drowsy. His body felt heavy.
“Mrrrow,” she said, and raked her nails down his chest. He woke up a little more.
“You wanna go again?” he asked, and she laughed, wrapping a leg around him.
“Later. Maybe sooner rather than later. I want to talk first.”
“Oh boy.”
She slugged him on the shoulder. “Stop.”
“Gee, hitt
ing now. You must be up for a wrestle.”
“Dean.”
He sighed, smiling, and settled back down on the bed. Miri tucked herself under his arm and said, “It’s about what happened tonight. Not with us. Earlier. Underground.”
“My afterglow just died. Thanks, Miri.”
“Before that,” she said sternly. “When I was touching that dead body.”
He nodded. “You almost fell.”
“I had a vision. Mountains. A lake with a land mass or something that looked like a dragon, hills and forests all around. I think I know that place. I didn’t really remember it until just a couple of minutes ago.”
“You had sex with me and it inspired you to think of land masses. Again, thank you.”
“Can’t you be serious about this?”
“I just made some totally righteous love to the woman of my dreams. I think I should be allowed to celebrate.”
Miri grinned. “If you liked it that much, the sooner we finish this conversation, the sooner we can start making love all over again.”
Dean reached out to the nightstand and pulled out another condom. He reached under the covers. “So talk. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Miri burst out laughing. “Get your hand out of there, mister. Put it where I can see it.”
“Which ‘it’ are you referring to?”
“Dean!”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “Talk.”
She gave him a look, but he stayed silent, concentrating, and she said, “I can’t be entirely sure, but I think the place I saw in my vision is Jiuzhaigou. It’s in Sichuan.”
“Do you think that’s where the jade has been hidden?”
Miri hesitated. “This is going to sound stupid.”
“Think about who you’re talking to.”
A scowl touched her mouth. “It’s nothing but a feeling, Dean. A hunch. Maybe more than a hunch. I just … know that’s the place. The history of the region lends itself to the idea, too. Did you know that the Baima people believe in devils and demons? They have this ancient ‘folk devil dance,’ almost six thousand years old, one of the oldest of its kind to still be practiced. They wear masks of animals during the ceremony. There used to be over thirty kinds, but the only ones that remain include phoenix, sculpture—like a stone animal—dragon, tiger, lion, bear … and demon. Another kind of demon. A good kind, I guess.”
“Shit,” Dean said. “I’ve been hanging around weirdos for too long. That actually makes sense.”
“Shape-shifters, demons, a people who still venerate some ancient balance? Given what we know, I’d say it’s a tradition with a basis in absolute reality.”
“I trust that. Okay, then. We’ll go there.”
“I could be wrong.”
“Don’t start second-guessing yourself. Besides, for all we know you’re psychic. After all, everyone who’s been chasing us has got some kind of more-than-human powers, and they’re not after you just ’cause you’re hotter ’n hell.”
“And if they were?”
“You’d still be in bed with me.”
“Confident.”
“We just made love. I could walk on air if I wanted to.”
She laughed, and he pulled her close and tight; her body felt like his body, and she rose and fell with his breath, so warm and sweet.
“We wasted so much time,” he said.
“We didn’t have a choice,” she murmured. “All our choice was taken from us. It was a … conspiracy of fate.”
“Kind of like finding each other again, after all these years.”
Miri pressed her cheek against his chest. “I never saw this coming, Dean. Never, in my wildest dreams. Though I did think of you. Often. Dreamed of you, too.”
“I dreamed of you,” he said quietly, and kissed the top of her head.
She smiled. “I think I am ready, my love slave. Prepare. We have talked enough.”
“Finally.” Dean shook his head. “I was fit to burst. All that heavy talk made me hard as a rock.”
“I think that was my fault, actually. My hand wandered.”
“I wondered who that was. I was getting a little worried.”
“You hid it well,” she said, and rolled on the condom. She rolled onto her back, too, and stretched her arms over her head. “You are prepared. You may take me now.”
He began to kiss her and she said, “No. I really mean it, Dean. Take me.”
“Oh.” He settled on top of her, sliding in with an ease that shocked him. She really was ready.
But she smiled, wriggling about, and in a high sweet voice said, “Dean? Are you in yet?”
“Oh God. Don’t do this to me.”
Miri laughed, and slapped his ass. “Go on now, cowboy. Start moving.”
“I am,” he growled.
She laughed harder, wrapping her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the small of his back. “You are so easy.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “I only waited thirty-six years before having sex with you.”
“You’re not done yet,” Miri said.
“You better hope not. I haven’t done this much in a long time. I could be a one-shot man, if you get my drift.”
“No stamina is the price of old age, Dean. That’s okay. I’m all about quality over quantity.”
But he managed to provide both, again and again, for the rest of the night.
Chapter Sixteen
In the predawn light of the Hong Kong morning, with Ren’s boat moored on the other side of Victoria Harbor on the edge of Kowloon, Miri watched Dean take the jade artifact in his hands and open his mind.
She was, of course, deeply interested in what, if anything, he would find, but she was also recovering from being a well- and hard-loved woman, and it was difficult to focus completely on anything serious when looking at Dean’s shirtless body made her want to roll around like a kitten and make funny squeaky noises.
She wore the red silk robe. A breeze stirred her loose hair, warm and humid, but with enough of the nighttime cool to be pleasant on her tingling body. Behind Dean, the distant lights of Hong Kong rose like a crowd of stars, a glittering rainbow against dusky green mountains shrouded in mist. A bit of moon still clung to the sky. It was a lovely morning.
Koni appeared and sat down. He held two cups of tea, and passed her one of them. She sniffed before drinking and inhaled jasmine. Perfect.
“You look relaxed,” he said, in a voice that was a little too mild. Miri caught the edge of his grin and blushed.
“Sorry,” he said, which he very clearly was not. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, but made no other attempt at conversation.
Dean opened his eyes. “All I see is water. A lake. The bluest lake I’ve ever seen in my life. There are trees all around it. I can’t tell if it’s past or present.”
“I wonder why you didn’t see that before?”
“And why I was pulled to Hong Kong for nothing but a body? That’s doesn’t make sense. I was just sure the jade was there.”
“It could have been recently moved,” Miri said. “It wouldn’t have been difficult for anyone who knew the layout of the place.”
“If it was moved, Kevin and Ku-Ku weren’t the ones who did it. If Lysander can read minds, he would have known immediately where the second piece is.”
“I don’t know the people you’re talking about,” Koni said, “but don’t rule out the possibility that they’re good at shielding themselves from telepaths.”
“How would a person do that?” Miri asked, remembering her own encounter with the dragon. “How do you protect yourself against someone who can look into your thoughts?”
“It’s not easy,” Dean said. “I sure as hell can’t do it.”
“Neither can I,” Koni said. “But I just don’t think it’s wise to rule out the possibility.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about Kevin,” Miri said. “And Ku-Ku …”
She was probably dead. Mir
i did not want to think about it, how she had run without even trying to help the girl. All for one, and one for one—no second thoughts; no hesitation. Not that Miri thought Ku-Ku would have done anything different, but Miri had high standards for herself. Standards that had failed miserably when put to the test.
And then, of course, there was Robert …
I thought you didn’t care, she told herself, but that was a lie. She cared a little. Robert was dangerous, and Robert was bad—but not all bad. Not entirely.
“So the lake,” Dean said. “I feel a pull to the west. Do you still think it’s the place you mentioned?”
“Jiuzhaigou,” Miri said. “Like you said, it’s a start.”
Koni grunted. “Beautiful area. I have some cousins there.”
“You can have a family reunion,” Dean snapped. “Because I get the stinkin’ feeling that’s where we’re headed.”
“Cheer up,” Miri said. “Just think about how lucky you are to have a life where you can combine natural scenic wonders with unremitting death and destruction, all in one trip.”
“She’s right,” Koni said. “That’s a fantastic opportunity.”
Dean sighed. Behind them, a door slammed. Ren leaped onto the deck, hair standing straight up, clad in cutoffs and little else. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Rough night?” Koni asked.
Silence. Nothing but the rocking of the boat and the gulls and the faraway moan of barge horns. Miri clutched her tea cup, ignoring the scalding heat against her palm as Ren stared and stared at Dean, then tore away his gaze to look at her. His mouth was nothing but a hard white line.
“What?” she asked, uneasy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Ren,” Dean said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to look.”
“What are you talking about?” Miri asked. “What the hell does that mean?”
Dean stood. Behind him the sky was turning golden with the dawn, a sheer light softened and pampered by gentle layers of peach and rose and cream. Blue arced, clouds raced; the city took on a different kind of glittering light, perched on the edge of a deepening green; the sea. But all that caught Miri’s heart was the man in front of her, with his blond hair bright as his eyes, sharp and hard like the slant of his mouth.
The Red Heart of Jade Page 27
