by Amelia Autin
“Every time I close my eyes, I see my little girls,” Dirk continued in a hushed voice. “They look so much like Bree it breaks my heart sometimes.”
“Tell me about her.”
“What’s to tell?” He shrugged as if his wife’s death hadn’t been the defining moment in his life, but she knew differently. Infidelity was rampant in the movie industry, but there were a few notable exceptions—her father was one. And by all accounts Dirk was another. “I loved her,” he said distantly, as if he were talking about another man, not him. “She loved me. She got sick. She died.” His voice roughened. “But she left me Linden and Laurel. She trusted I would take care of them...always.”
“You have. To the best of your ability you have.”
He made a self-derisive sound. “Oh, hell, yeah. So why am I sitting here wondering where the hell they are? Wondering if they’re even—” He broke off, as if by uttering the unimaginable he would make it occur. Then he continued in harsh tones, “I’m such a good father I let my little girls be kidnapped.”
Chapter 5
“You didn’t let it happen,” Mei-li asserted. “It just happened...despite your best efforts. It’s true,” she insisted when he attempted to disagree. She put a hand over his. “How many bodyguards did you bring with you to Hong Kong?”
“Three.”
“How many are here to protect you?”
“None, but—”
“A full-time nanny,” she said softly, interrupting him. “Three bodyguards watching over them. And you’re staying at the Peninsula Hotel, just about the safest hotel in Kowloon. Other than standing guard over them yourself twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week—which you couldn’t do, even if you wanted to—what more do you think you could have done?”
“I...” The sense of her words finally seemed to sink in. “You’re right,” he said finally. He glanced down at her hand, lying so reassuringly atop his. He turned his hand in hers and squeezed it in thanks. “It’s just...every time I try to sleep, I hear Bree’s voice in my ears, asking where our daughters are. And I just can’t—”
She cut him off. “Don’t.” Her hand tightened on his. “You’ll get through this, Dirk. I promise you, no matter what, you’ll get through this.” She drew a deep breath, knowing what she had to say to prove to him he’d survive this nightmare, one way or another. “Why do you think I went into my line of work?”
Dirk frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Private investigator...ransom negotiator...these aren’t common occupations for women in Hong Kong.” She smiled faintly. “Don’t get me wrong—women have made strides here, even though Hong Kong is still a man’s world. But I didn’t go into this line of work because it was something I always wanted to do.”
“Then why did you?”
She chose her words with care. “I was nineteen when Sean and I became engaged. He was twenty-three. I was just starting my second year toward a mechanical engineering degree. He was being groomed to eventually take over the reins of his family’s business. Sean’s family is fifth-generation Hong Kong native—gwai lo,” she explained, using the phrase euphemistically. “That just means they’re not Chinese. Foreigners. But born here in Hong Kong—and superwealthy by Hong Kong standards. Sean was their only son. His grandfather—if I told you his name you’d recognize it—he and the company he founded are world famous. Both our families were happy for us, even though my parents thought I was too young and wanted me to wait until I graduated from college. Sean and I didn’t want to wait that long, but we did agree to a year’s engagement.”
She paused, gathering courage for what she would say next. “Three days before our wedding, Sean was kidnapped. The payoff was botched...and Sean was killed.”
At one time Mei-li wouldn’t have been able to talk about this at all. She’d grieved intensely after Sean’s death, but it had happened almost eleven years ago. And her grief had found an outlet in her life’s work. She was good at what she did—damned good—because she knew the consequences of not being good. In all the years she’d been doing this, every kidnap victim on every case she’d worked had been recovered alive. Sometimes the kidnappers had been caught, and sometimes they hadn’t been. Sometimes the ransom had been recovered, in full or in part. But the money had always been secondary to the families involved. Recovering their loved ones was always the primary goal, and Mei-li never lost sight of that fact.
For just a moment she let her pain reflect in her eyes, sharing this very private grief with Dirk. “I wanted to die after Sean died. I wanted to. But I didn’t. And I know now there was a reason God didn’t let me die. Every time I help bring a kidnap victim safely home, every time I see the joy on their families’ faces, I know that’s the reason I survived.”
* * *
Dirk woke when the woman in his arms stirred in her sleep. For just a moment he thought it had all been a horrendous nightmare. Then reality crashed in on him—his daughters really had been kidnapped.
But he’d slept. Impossible as it seemed, somehow he’d slept. And he knew whom he had to thank.
He surreptitiously loosened his hold on Mei-li, telling himself not to breathe in the scent of her—an enticing combination of ginger and warm woman—and slid out from beneath the blanket covering the two of them. He stood and stretched, feeling every one of his thirty-six years, his muscles aching from a night spent on a hard, bare floor. But there was one part of him that didn’t ache for that reason, although it did ache. And the reason it ached was the woman who’d spent the night in his arms.
He forced himself to look away from Mei-li, her face soft and rosy in sleep. But as he did so he remembered the night they’d first met, and he realized he now had the answer to one of the questions he’d first posed to himself about her—her skin really was as satiny smooth as it looked.
The faint light creeping through the boarded-up windows told him it was early, and a quick glance at his smartphone confirmed it was just after six. Then it dawned on him that sunlight meant the typhoon had passed, and with that realization came renewed hope—at least now he could do something. No more forced inactivity.
Everyone else in his little group was still asleep, but there was a general stirring around him. He yawned and stretched again, then reached down and gently shook Mei-li’s shoulder. He hated to wake her, but he didn’t want anyone else to know they’d shared a pillow and blanket...and he didn’t think she’d want that, either.
She came awake immediately and sprang lightly to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked in a low voice. “Did you sleep?” And an emotion he didn’t recognize curled through him.
“Yeah.” Unable to help himself, he stroked one finger down her cheek. “Thanks to you.”
She stared up at him, her face solemn. “I’m glad.”
The urge to pull her into his arms slammed into him out of the blue, and it took all his willpower to resist. But he wasn’t able to prevent himself from brushing his fingers over the curve of her chin and sliding a thumb over her lips. Then he turned away from temptation, bent down and picked up the blanket. He shook it vigorously, as if he could shake some sense into himself at the same time. He folded the blanket with firm, compact movements, then dropped it on top of the pillow.
When he glanced at Mei-li again she was still watching him with that solemn expression, and he suddenly realized the emotion he’d felt earlier, the one he hadn’t recognized, was...attraction. Not the sexual attraction a man might feel for a beautiful woman, but the emotional attraction a man would feel for a woman he recognized as a kindred spirit. The kind of attraction he hadn’t felt for a woman since—
Don’t go there, he warned himself. You’ve got more important things to worry about.
But even as he pushed that attraction to the furthest corner of his consciousness, he was forced to acknowledge it. And he knew that if the cir
cumstances were different, he’d pursue it. Because there was more to Mei-li Moore than a beautiful face and a sexy body—a hell of a lot more. And what she had to offer was exactly what he’d been missing in his life.
* * *
An hour later they were all back in the Peninsula Suite, eating the breakfast that had just been delivered by room service. Dirk had called Hannah the moment he’d returned to his suite—to report there was nothing to report. Mei-li had listened to Dirk’s side of the conversation automatically, but only with half her attention. The rest was reserved for the others in attendance.
The suite’s dining table sat ten, and their small group had been increased by two, the other bodyguards who’d accompanied Dirk’s family to Hong Kong. Mike Beckett, who at six foot three was taller and broader than Dirk. And Rafe Johnson. They appeared to be genuinely incensed their charges had been kidnapped. Rafe in particular—a six-foot-five-inch ebony tower of a man—gave off a critical vibe about Chet’s performance the day before that pleased Mei-li. And she had a feeling that if Rafe had been on duty, the kidnappers wouldn’t have gotten away so easily.
Both men were insistent on being included in whatever the plan of action was, and Mei-li had one. But she wasn’t ready to share that plan with everyone. Part of it involved getting Vanessa and Chet out of the way for a while, at the same time keeping a close eye on them. But she was also conscious that not everyone in the room could be trusted, so she vetted her words carefully.
“The first thing you have to do,” she said, addressing Dirk at the head of the table on her right, “is make arrangements to have the money available.” It was the truth, but it was also something that would allay any suspicions on the part of the kidnappers...assuming they had a mole in their midst.
“Not a problem,” Dirk replied. “But how much? The kidnapper who called me yesterday wouldn’t say.”
“That’s not important...not yet.” She wrote a name and phone number on a piece of paper and pushed it toward Dirk. “That’s a Hong Kong banker I’ve dealt with in the past. Call him after nine. He’ll walk you through what you need to do.” She turned her attention to Vanessa on the other side of the table, next to Chet. “I know you’re still in shock after yesterday,” she said gently. “But we need your assistance.”
Vanessa looked at Dirk. “Whatever I can do to help Mr. DeWinter.”
Mei-li wrote a couple of names and addresses on another piece of paper, which she passed across to Vanessa. “First name on that list is a freelance sketch artist. You’re the only one who saw the kidnappers—”
“But they were wearing masks,” Vanessa protested. “I really didn’t see their faces.”
“Yes, but whatever you did see, we need to capture that while it’s still fresh in your mind.” She smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, Vanessa. Whatever you remember is more than we have now.” She switched gears. “Second on that list is a hypnotist.”
“A hypnotist?”
The appalled expression on Vanessa’s face only lasted a second and was quickly erased, but Mei-li had been watching closely for the other woman’s first reaction and wasn’t disappointed. She didn’t let on that she’d seen anything amiss, however. “Yes, a hypnotist. It’s possible you might remember something more than you told us yesterday, and my friend is quite skilled at hypnotizing witnesses to get at suppressed memories. It’s not admissible in court, of course, but we don’t care about that at this point. We just need whatever clues we can uncover.”
Vanessa stared at the piece of paper as if it might bite her. “How...” She faltered. “How do I find these addresses?”
“Patrick will take you.” Mei-li glanced at her cousin at the foot of the table, who immediately nodded. She’d already managed to speak to Patrick earlier, in private, and she knew he was on board with this part of her plan.
Chet spoke for the first time. “Maybe I should go, too.” He held out his hand for the piece of paper, and Vanessa handed it to him with relief. “I don’t even remember answering the door, but...” He shrugged. “I might remember something under hypnosis.”
Mei-li pretended to consider Chet’s suggestion, but this had been her intention all along—she’d deliberately maneuvered Chet into volunteering by pushing Vanessa into a corner. “Not everyone is susceptible to hypnosis,” she said doubtfully. “But if you insist...”
“I insist. It might be our best shot.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay, I guess. It can’t hurt. Patrick can take you both.”
“When?” The question came from Vanessa.
“The sooner, the better. I already called both people I mentioned. My friend, the sketch artist, will be home all morning. And the hypnotist is available anytime after noon today.”
“What about the typhoon?” Vanessa asked as if she were grasping at straws. “I mean...won’t there be... I don’t know...cleanup or something going on?”
Rafe spoke. “Mike and I got here this morning, no problem. Yeah, there’s some debris around, and some standing water, but trains and buses are running on schedule, and traffic seems to be unaffected.”
Vanessa turned to Dirk. “Is it okay, Mr. DeWinter? Are you sure this is what you want us to do?”
“Miss Moore’s the expert,” Dirk said, slanting a look at Mei-li that told her he knew what she was doing and why, and approved. Not only approved, but admired the adroit way she’d accomplished her goal.
“Not an expert,” Mei-li quickly demurred. “Not with this kind of kidnapping.” She’d set the stage with Vanessa and Chet in the restaurant last night—just as she’d warned Dirk she would—that her experience didn’t encompass this. “All I can do is follow the procedures that have worked in the past.”
Her intent gaze moved to Patrick, who got the message and quickly stood. Patrick’s rising was the catalyst for Vanessa and Chet, who rose from the table. “I’ll just get my purse,” Vanessa said nervously. “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Mei-li finished her breakfast in silence, waiting until Vanessa and Chet followed Patrick out of the suite. Then she turned to Dirk. “It’s up to you,” she said, indicating Mike and Rafe with her hand.
Dirk knew she was referring to how much to confide in his family’s other two bodyguards and was torn. On the one hand, he trusted these men—or he had, until yesterday. They’d done a damn fine job protecting Linden and Laurel in the past. Not only keeping them safe, but keeping the paparazzi away—almost no pictures of his daughters had ever appeared in the tabloids, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying. On the other hand, he’d trusted Chet, too, and Vanessa. And while nothing had been proved against any of them...
Mike spoke for Rafe and himself. “We’re not naive, Mr. DeWinter. It reeks of an inside job. And if I were you, I wouldn’t trust us any more than you trust Chet.”
“Or Vanessa,” Rafe threw in.
“Or Vanessa,” Mike agreed.
Rafe turned to Mei-li. “That was slick, how you got them out of the way.” His tone held admiration. “Mike and I,” he continued, “we want to help any way we can. But we realize maybe the best way we can help is to stay out of it.” His right hand curled into a fist, Dirk saw, and the fierceness in his dark eyes conveyed a message Rafe probably wasn’t even aware he was sending.
Rafe focused his attention on Dirk again. “I never guarded anyone as young as your daughters before,” he said. “And, to be honest, when I first came to work for you, I wasn’t too happy about it. I’d worked for a famous actor before—he was one of my references, remember?” Dirk nodded. Rafe’s previous employer was an actor who lived life on the edge, who ran with a wild crowd. But he’d been sorry to lose Rafe—Dirk remembered that—and he’d given Rafe a glowing reference.
“I really didn’t want to be around that kind of lifestyle—guess you could say I’m kind of old-fashioned that way. But I ne
eded the job,” Rafe continued, “so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. And it wasn’t at all what I expected. Your little girls, well...” He glanced at Mike. “They’re like our own now. We’re with them all the time, more than you.”
Dirk started to respond, feeling as if there was a criticism buried in that statement, but Rafe stopped him. “Yeah, you work for a living, same as us, we get that. But our jobs are keeping your daughters safe, which means we’re always with them.” Rafe’s face hardened, and his eyes turned cold. “So whoever took them...all I can say is, God help them when Mike and I find them, ’cause nothing else will.”
If Rafe’s acting, he’s better than I am, Dirk thought. And that decided him. He glanced at Mei-li, who shrugged as if to say it was his call.
“Better get another cup of coffee,” he told the two men, pouring one for himself then passing the coffeepot down. “This could take a while.”
Dirk revealed what the kidnapper had told him—that Terrell Blackwood sent his regards—then went on to explain why Blackwood had reason to want revenge. He only gave them the bare bones of the story, but enough so they understood.
Afterward, Rafe and Mike went down to learn what, if anything, the hotel’s staff might have observed the day before with regard to the kidnapping. It was admittedly a long shot, and Mei-li pointed out that neither man was a trained interrogator. “We don’t want word to get out that the girls are missing. Any publicity would be a huge problem—the last thing we need is a media circus.”
But Mike said, “Rafe was in the Marine Corps before he retired—military police. And I was a cop for nine years before I went private. I think we know how to ask questions without raising suspicions.”
The two men had no sooner left the suite when Dirk’s smartphone rang, and his heart began pounding. One part of him desperately wanted it to be the kidnappers, but another part dreaded that it was. Just as it had yesterday, the touchpad showed Unknown Caller when he looked at it. But he knew. “Yes?”
