White Ginger

by Thatcher Robinson

  Then, there was silence.

  “That . . . was . . . really, really . . . smart,” she stated.

  Her sarcastic comment was muffled by neoprene. Lee’s headlock had twisted her headgear around. She peeked out through an ear hole in the side of the soft helmet.

  “Not one of my finer moments,” he agreed. “Sometimes my instincts just suck.”

  He attempted to push her off him. “Are you getting heavier, or is it my imagination?”

  She rolled to the mat to glare at him. “I might have gained a few pounds . . . mostly muscle.”

  Her assertion was delivered with a challenging stare. He stared back. She could almost see the rejoinders running through his head.

  “Say it and I’ll hurt you.”

  “I was just about to compliment you on your amazing muscle tone. Not often one sees sinew of that caliber . . . nor magnitude. I think the word is ‘hefty,’” he appended dryly.

  “You’re flirting with death.”

  He smiled through his face guard. “Isn’t ‘hefty’ derived from the word ‘heifer’?”

  She launched herself at him, pummeling him about the head and shoulders as he laughed.

  When she grew tired from hitting him, she asked, “Have you had enough, or do I have to kick your butt some more?”

  She removed her headgear by spinning it around to snag her nose on the Velcro fastener She rubbed her scraped nose while Lee laughed.

  “I’ve had enough,” he finally admitted.

  “Good. Elizabeth invited you for dinner.”

  “That’s the best news you’ve delivered all day. As days go, this one’s been a stinky pile.”

  Bai was quiet as she thought back over the day’s events. Her mind and stomach still churned in the aftermath of the trip to Oakland. She looked aside at Lee. “What do you think I should do about Jason?”

  He pulled off his neoprene headgear to stare back at her with a serious expression. “What can you do? If you want to get Jia Yan back, you’re going to need his help.”

  “The help he gave today will probably give me nightmares the rest of my life.”

  It was Lee’s turn to be quiet. He stared at her with a look of discomfort. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

  She sighed and tossed her headgear onto the mat. “I’m used to violence. I mean . . . it’s not like I haven’t been in fights all my life. But what happened in that basement shook me. I could maybe rationalize that those men preyed on young women. But the way Jason killed them . . .” She looked at Lee, meeting his gaze. “It was so casual, so easy.”

  He dropped his eyes and busied himself by removing his sparring gloves. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the gloves off. “Not very sporting of him.” He looked up at Bai and produced a sad smile. “Sorry,” he added. “I really don’t have any consoling words. Given the situation, I might have done the same thing. Jason’s protecting you. He’s doing everything he can to make sure there isn’t a trail that leads back to you. I can see that. I can understand it.”

  “I can see that, too,” she blurted, “but he doesn’t have to kill everybody I cross paths with.”

  “Who’s to say the Wah Ching in the basement wouldn’t have come after you, Bai. From everything I’ve seen, they make stupidity its own reward. There’s nothing more dangerous than idiots with guns.”

  The sound of running footsteps ended their discussion. Dan sprinted into the dojo and raced up to stand before Bai. “Mah Mah says to hurry! Daddy called and said he would pick you up in thirty minutes. Mah Mah says you’re supposed to pack a bag. Are you going somewhere?”

  “It would seem so.” Bai stood to put her arm around her daughter. “Your father and I have to take a short trip. I’ve spoken with Mah Mah, and you’re going to be spending tomorrow with Lee.”

  Dan looked to Lee for confirmation. He smiled wickedly.

  His voice was exuberant. “We’re going shopping.”

  Jason took Bai’s bag from her and passed it to the driver. She then scooted into the limo and settled into a plush seat while Jason positioned himself across from her. He turned to raise the frosted glass partition between them and the driver to ensure privacy. The smell of cured leather filled the compartment.

  She leaned back into the cushioned seat to relax. Her eyes shuttered as she looked out the window. The car cruised through Chinatown and then down to Bayshore, the avenue along the wharf, where the car took a right turn to drive past the Ferry Building.

  The Spanish-style structures had once housed the Port Authority and other municipal fiefdoms. Now, upscale boutiques and cafés catered to affluent commuters. The ferries, big, modern catamarans, transported passengers in relative comfort across the bay to Sausalito, Tiburon, Oakland, and as far away as Richmond.

  Bai felt a twinge of nostalgia while looking at the renovated structures. She missed the old Ferry Terminal, a cavernous depot with the charm of old San Francisco, before Starbucks was a fixture and cell phones made escape impossible. She missed the wooden benches, worn smooth with age; the hot dog stand and the caramel-corn vendor; and the cigarette and magazine stall where her grandfather had purchased cigars. Mostly, she missed the old ferries, which had been real ships, made of steel and wood, and smelling of salt-dampened air and diesel fumes.

  The memories from childhood lapped at her consciousness as the driver moved the car fluidly in and out of traffic. Drowsiness blanketed her as her eyes drooped despite a conscious effort to stay awake.

  “Sammy Tu has surfaced in Vancouver.”

  Jason’s sharply delivered announcement roused her. She sat up slowly in her seat to shake off her lethargy. “I assumed we were headed for Vancouver. Is there any word of the girl?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I’m having a problem getting a fix on Sammy Tu. We’ve heard he’s in town. We just don’t know where. He’s keeping very quiet—strange for someone who’s trying to sell merchandise, which could mean the girl has already been sold and he’s just making the delivery. Or, it could mean he doesn’t plan to sell the girl and has found other uses for her.”

  Bai didn’t like the sound of that. “Other uses” for a pretty, young girl could mean any number of unpleasant alternatives.

  She offered another theory. “Maybe he’s gone to ground because he’s heard his house got burned down. That would certainly get my attention.”

  Jason looked at her with a bemused expression. “A definite possibility,” he conceded. He seemed to contemplate a moment before adding, “My guess, and it’s only a guess, is Sammy Tu knows something’s gone south. He just doesn’t know exactly what. If he can get in touch with his Wah Ching associates who were at the café, he’ll start putting the pieces together. I think we have to go on the assumption he knows we’re coming for him and he’ll do his best to avoid us.”

  “There’s no chance he’d just give Jia up and write the whole thing off as bad business?”

  Jason grinned, obviously entertained by the thought. “That would be the reasonable thing to do. Nobody’s ever accused Sammy Tu of being reasonable. He has a reputation for being greedy.”

  “Then we do it the hard way?”

  “That would seem to be the story.”

  He seemed resigned and stared at her dispassionately.

  She patted the seat next to her. “I need a shoulder.”

  He took a moment to think about her request before turning to settle in the seat next to her. She leaned into him as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. It seemed like old times. Tears unexpectedly welled in her eyes.

  “Where are we flying out of?” she asked.

  She didn’t really care. The question was tossed out as a distraction. She could feel the heat rising in her chest as her hip pressed against his.

  “We’re flying out of SFO, a nine o’clock flight on Canadian Air that will put us into Vancouver around midnight. I have people meeting us on the ground.”

  She snuggled, like a burrowing rabbit, into his shoulder. His suit sm
elled nice—wool and cologne, with a hint of man. Her eyes closed as she reveled in being held while Elizabeth’s warning echoed repeatedly in her head, the words growing fainter with each passing moment.

  “How is Dan?” he asked.

  She smiled at the thought of her daughter. “She’s fine.”

  She could feel his body tense as she reached over to cup his chin and turn his face toward hers. Her lips grazed his before he put his hand behind her neck and pulled her into him. His tongue found hers, and they were locked together. He leaned back onto the bench seat, and she eased down on top of him. What started out as a gentle kiss quickly escalated. She tugged at his jacket while his hand found its way inside her T-shirt to cup her breast.

  She pulled away suddenly to catch her breath. An avalanche of thoughts tumbled through her head. She wasn’t a kid anymore. The idea of screwing Jason in the backseat of the limo was, on the one hand, appalling, while on the other hand, enormously appealing. Her rational mind said no! no! no! Her libido said yes, yes, yes. She froze in indecision while Jason’s practiced hands melted her resolve.

  “This is crazy,” she said, as she shrugged off her jacket.

  He pulled off her shirt as she sat up to straddle him. Then he leaned back with a smile on his face.

  She leaned down to whisper in his ear as he reached around to unhook her bra. “I hope the partition is soundproof. I wouldn’t want the driver to get the wrong impression when you start begging for mercy.”

  She pulled at his belt. He popped the buttons on her jeans, hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and pulled as she rolled off of him. She bounced across the aisle and onto the facing seat to kick off her shoes with her pants around her knees. He grabbed the cuffs of her jeans and pulled, nearly upending her as the pants peeled away. Then he sat back and stared at her with a critical eye.

  “You look good,” he said appreciatively. “Really good.”

  “Not as good as I did ten years ago.”

  She took off her panties and threw them at him. He caught them and tossed them aside.

  “No, you don’t,” he agreed. His smile was wicked as he stared at her. “You look better. ‘The older the ginger, the hotter the spice.’”

  The flattery had a volatile affect. Bai dropped to her knees on the floor of the car and reached over to grab the waist of Jason’s pants to pull them down around his knees. His boxers came along for the ride. Then she got up to straddle him. She leaned in to kiss him and eased herself slowly down. His tongue sought hers while she moved up and down, the motion gaining momentum at his urging, his hands gripping her waist and then moving up to fondle her breasts.

  It didn’t take long to climax. When Bai peaked, it was violent and frantic. Jason bucked under her. His hands dug into her thighs painfully as she thrust against him, her palms pressed against the roof of the car for leverage. Tremors ran through her body. Blue dots blurred her vision while her back arched in spasms to snatch the breath from her lungs.

  Jason’s body went rigid before relaxing. They held each other and gasped for breath. His hands loosened their painful grip. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to burrow his head into her shoulder. His voice was muffled against her neck.

  “You make me weak,” he said as he pulled her face down to kiss her.

  She held on tightly, reluctant to move. The warmth of his breath against her neck, the beating of his heart beneath her palm, the feel of his hands on her bare skin—all soothed her. She felt as if she could have stayed like that forever.

  She loosened her grip and dropped her head to look into his eyes. “You make me reckless. I guess we’re even.”

  Jason seemed to think about her statement.

  “Not quite even.” His voice held a hint of mischief. “I think you still owe me for that little stunt in the café today.”

  Bai rolled off his lap, so she could confront him. “It seems to me your robbing me of any shred of dignity would be sufficient payment. Having sex in the backseat of a car like a teenager should read ‘paid in full’ on that marker.”

  Jason looked abashed. “This wasn’t my idea.”

  She stared at him, at a loss for words. He looked back innocently.

  Her voice cracked like chipped ice. “Would you like to rephrase that?”

  He looked at her, his demeanor thoughtful. “I meant to say it wasn’t entirely my idea.”

  His response had the impact of a cold shower.

  “Where are my things?” she demanded, searching for her black clothing scattered around the equally black interior of the limo.

  “Your pants are over here,” he offered, handing her the jeans. “I think your shirt and bra went over my head.”

  He busied himself by pulling up his pants and straightening his clothes while Bai scuttled to the back of the compartment to look for her shirt and bra. Clothes in hand, she dropped to the floor to find her shoes. She found everything but her panties, which had gone mysteriously missing. It took another five minutes to find them wedged between the seat cushions where they’d landed in the heat of the moment.

  By the time she’d dressed, the limo was flying down Highway 101 and nearing the airport. Jason studied her from across the aisle.

  His lips quirked up in amusement. “You’re not angry, are you?”

  “Only at myself,” she replied. “Every time I see you I end up naked. I feel like a fool.”

  “Is ending up naked a bad thing?”

  Jason waited patiently for an answer. He looked at her warily.

  Bai let out a weary sigh. “I don’t really know. I seem to have my life under control, and then I see you and my life’s out of control again. I feel like I’m riding a roller coaster.”

  “It’s a fun ride,” he quipped.

  “That’s not the point. We both know it’s a fun ride. The sex is amazing. But the thing about a roller coaster is that you always end up right back where you started.”

  He shrugged off the comment. He didn’t seem worried. Maybe the pattern worked for him. It definitely wasn’t working for her.

  She sat back quietly. Postcoital lethargy quickly caught up with her. If there’d been a bed, she’d have been sound asleep. As it was, she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Jason seemed to recognize her condition. “You can sleep on the plane.”

  He knew her well. Better than anyone, in some ways. She leaned back farther into the soft leather of the seat while choosing to ignore his suggestion. Her eyes closed. The compartment hummed with the muted sounds of the road. Her heartbeat slowed. Her breaths deepened. She drifted.

  Bai blinked. Lights shimmered in her eyes as she tried to focus.

  Jason leaned into the car to tug at the sleeve of her jacket. She realized, with a start, she’d fallen asleep. Lethargy continued to cling to her like a needy child. She rubbed at her eyes while clambering out of the double-parked car to stumble upright onto the black asphalt—a less than graceful exit.

  Bai watched as Jason retrieved the bags from the trunk of the car before he stopped to speak with the driver. She couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise of traffic. The limo sat amid the chaos of the drop-off zone at San Francisco’s International Airport. Cars and shuttle buses jostled for space to the tune of honking horns and loud, colorful suggestions offered up by drivers and passengers alike.

  Jason and the limo driver turned in unison to watch a black SUV cruise slowly by. Jason then nodded once to the driver before turning to walk toward her with a bag in each hand.

  Bai stepped backward toward the curb with her attention focused on Jason. She almost fell over a woman exiting a cab behind her. A matron with gray hair and rounded hips turned with a startled expression to stare at her, dumbfounded, no doubt, to find a stranger, first tripping over her then clutching at her to keep from falling.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bai said in apology while trying to straighten the woman’s sweater she’d accidently tugged aside.

  The matron brushed Bai off wit
h obvious annoyance and walked away wordlessly. Before Bai could give the angry woman another thought, Jason stepped up beside her.

  “I think that’s everything,” he said.

  Her attention was pulled back to the SUV exiting the terminal. She nodded toward the departing vehicle. “What was that all about?”

  He shrugged the question off. “It’s probably nothing. We can discuss it when we’re inside.”

  Shifting a bag to his other hand, he latched on to her elbow to guide her through the glass doors of the terminal. She allowed herself to be steered through the yawning building. Passengers, most of them trailing wheeled luggage, scurried in all directions as Jason deftly led her through the crowd to the Air Canada ticket booth. They bypassed the lines to walk up to the first-class counter, where their passports were given a cursory glance before tickets were dispensed. Thirty minutes later, they made their way through the security gate and into the boarding area.

  Jason touched her arm to get her attention. “We might as well wait in the first-class lounge. We have a while before our flight leaves. I’m buying if you’re drinking.”

  “This is new,” she said. “You usually get me drunk before you have your way with me. Now I’m confused.”

  “Think of it as priming the pump,” he grinned.

  “I’d suggest you think of it as a dry well,” she responded as she waltzed past him.

  Strategically placed leather chairs and glass coffee tables filled the lounge. The seating arrangements were placed just far enough apart to provide privacy as long as conversations were conducted in a discreet manner. He followed her to an unoccupied nook where she took a seat.

  He dropped the bags into a corner chair. “What are you having?”

  “Glenlivet over ice. The older the better.”

  As he turned toward the bar, she opened her phone to retrieve her forwarded messages. The first two messages were from her lawyer, Robert Hung. He informed her that the negotiations on the real estate exchange—the one with Sun Yee On—were shaping up as anticipated. The second message asked that she meet with him in person as soon as possible on an urgent matter. The third message proved to be even more disturbing. The caller, a man who didn’t identify himself, delivered a threatening, profanity-laced tirade. The caller didn’t just threaten her; he threatened her daughter.