by Amelia Autin
Mei-li leaned back against the seat. “Slight change of plans. I’m going to have the driver drop me off at my apartment. Then he’ll take you and Rafe to the hotel.”
Dirk hadn’t missed the money and the business card she’d handed to the cabdriver, and a tiny frown formed. He didn’t think she was telling him everything, but he wasn’t going to push her for answers. For some reason she didn’t want him to know. Or she didn’t want Rafe to know. Either way, he was going to let it pass...for now.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to question her at all. “Did you need to pick up something from your apartment?” he asked. “We could wait for you.”
She shook her head. “I want a shower and a change of clothes, then I’ll head for your hotel.” She hesitated, then asked diffidently, “Do you have enough cash for the cab?” She was already reaching into her purse. “If not I—”
He stopped her, capturing her hand in his. He didn’t know why her question made him smile, but it did. Mei-li’s protectiveness poignantly reminded him of Bree, but for the first time, the memory of Bree didn’t make him unutterably sad.
“I’m good,” he told her, but he didn’t let her hand go. Instead he intertwined her fingers with his. “That reminds me,” he said. “I want you to keep track of everything you’ve spent so far—the doorman, the cabbie, the clerk at the Business Aviation Centre—and everything you spend in the future. I don’t need an itemized accounting, but I want the total included on your bill. Speaking of which,” he added, “we never discussed your fee.”
She made as if to withdraw her hand, but he refused to let go. He waited until her eyes met his to say softly, “This is what you do for a living, Mei-li. You’ve been a lifeline for me, and I can never repay you for that. But I’m paying you for your time—and whatever you charge won’t even begin to cover what you’re worth.”
A tiny smile crept into her eyes. “Never tell someone that before they present you with the bill. They might take advantage of you.”
“You won’t.” He was as sure of that as he was of anything.
Her smile faded, and something else replaced it. Tenderness? A kind of yearning? He wasn’t sure, but suddenly neither of them could look away. “No,” she said. “I won’t take advantage of you, Dirk. I would never do that.” And he knew she wasn’t just talking about money.
Chapter 10
“He’s a client,” Mei-li muttered to herself as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her long, dark hair, which she’d just washed. Then she wrapped another towel around her body. “Don’t lose sight of that.” A client she’d known all of one day, no less.
But it didn’t feel that way. It felt as if she’d known him for years, the way she’d known Sean. It hadn’t been love at first sight with Sean—far from it. Mei-li laughed softly to herself as she toweled her hair dry, remembering how she’d taken an instant dislike to Sean the first time she’d met him, the same way she’d felt about D—
She clamped down on that thought before she could finish it. She didn’t want to draw parallels between Dirk and Sean, not in any way. Because what she was feeling for Dirk went so much deeper than her love for Sean all those years ago. What she was feeling for Dirk was what her love for Sean could have grown into...if Sean hadn’t been murdered.
“That’s not possible,” she whispered, dismayed. She couldn’t be falling in love with Dirk. She couldn’t. She’d only known him a day.
Love for Sean had taken months...almost a year to develop. And even then she’d constantly questioned herself, wanting to be sure. The sexual attraction had been there, but love? True love? The kind of love her parents had? When Sean had proposed on her nineteenth birthday, she’d accepted, but...she’d acquiesced to her parents’ request for a year’s engagement. They didn’t want her to rush into something that could turn out to be a mistake, and though she’d loved Sean, she’d seen the power of their argument.
Love wasn’t static. She’d known that even at nineteen. “More Today than Yesterday” wasn’t just a romantic song title, it was a life truth. Love either grew as you grew...or it died. All she had to do was look at her parents’ marriage to know what love could grow to be if it was nurtured. Cherished. Treasured.
When she was trying to hypnotize Dirk this morning she’d almost told him about her parents, about how difficult the decision had been for the two of them to marry. That had been a different time, of course—Chinese didn’t marry gwai lo back then. Not as a general rule. And gwai lo didn’t marry Chinese.
Mei-li smiled slightly as she looked at herself in the mirror and combed her hair dry. Gwai lo in Cantonese translated literally as “foreign devil” in English, although, as she’d explained to Dirk, nowadays it wasn’t used as a derogatory term so much, it just meant foreigners, especially Westerners.
And yet her parents had been young and in love. Not as they loved each other now, of course. But they had believed they could change the world. Their world. And in their own small way they had. Her mother came from an ancient Chinese family. Very proud. Very rich in tradition. Her father’s lineage was equally proud, equally ancient. When her parents had married in the face of opposition from both families, their families had cast them off. But eventually...years later...both families had come around. After the children had come along. Children have a way of breaking down the barriers, she told herself with a tiny smile.
There wasn’t the same stigma on mixed-race marriages today that there’d been back then. Not in most circles. And even if there was, she wouldn’t let anyone’s opinion sway her—the same way her mother hadn’t been swayed from marrying her father—if she loved Dirk.
Which brought her right back to the realization that she was falling in love with him. After a day. Which was so totally unlike her it was unbelievable. “It’s empathy,” she whispered. “Because you know what he’s going through with his daughters’ kidnapping. That’s all it is. Empathy.”
But empathy couldn’t account for the way she’d kissed him in the kitchen this morning. Or the way he’d kissed her, as if she was his salvation. Empathy couldn’t account for the way her breath caught in her throat when he smiled a certain way at her. An intimate smile, and yet...a curiously innocent smile. Not a sexually knowing smile—she’d been on the receiving end of enough of those to know that wasn’t what Dirk was thinking, even though he practically oozed sexiness from his pores.
And empathy couldn’t account for the way it seemed as if she could read his mind and he could read hers. As if they were on the same wavelength. As if they shared a bond that transcended time and space.
* * *
Dirk escaped to his bedroom for a shower before room service arrived. It was only May, but May in semitropical Hong Kong was already hot and sticky. The hotel was air-conditioned, of course, as was his suite, but he needed the shower. Not just because of the heat and humidity, but because he needed to clear his mind, and a shower had been his escape since forever.
His mind was teeming with random bits and pieces that kept coming back to him—the two phone calls from the kidnappers, the discussion with the doorman, the oh-so-tantalizing investigation this afternoon. And Mei-li. Everything she said, everything she did. Mei-li in the wee hours of the morning, sitting next to him in the lobby as the typhoon howled outside the hotel, comforting him by letting him see her own wounds, which were worse than his. The hypnosis session this morning, her holding him as he raged on the balcony, the kiss they’d shared in the kitchen.
But that wasn’t all. Admiration was also thrown into the mix. He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he told her whatever she was charging him wouldn’t even begin to cover what she was worth to him in this investigation. She might not have any experience with this kind of kidnapping, but he wouldn’t even have known where to begin without her.
Dirk retrieved his smartphone from its cha
rger and walked out of his bedroom ten minutes later, physically refreshed but still troubled in his mind. He made his way through the study to the double doors leading into the living room, and he stood unnoticed in the doorway for a minute. His gaze settled on Vanessa and Chet, talking quietly on the sofa, then moved to Rafe and Mike, who stood by the window. By the expression on Mike’s face Rafe had recounted the story they’d agreed on—that their errand had been little more than grasping at straws and fruitless to boot. Dirk hated deceiving Mike, but until they knew for sure he could be trusted...
Patrick was there, too, sitting in an armchair a few feet away from Vanessa and Chet, his eyes honed in on them. Patrick looked tired, and Dirk realized the man hadn’t even been home yet. He’d been on the go since yesterday, was wearing borrowed clothes that didn’t fit and had spent the day ferrying Vanessa and Chet to the sketch artist and then the hypnotist. Without complaint.
Dirk caught Patrick’s eye. “Did you call your parents this morning?” Guilt stabbed through him that he hadn’t asked first thing this morning if Patrick’s parents had weathered the typhoon without incident. Yes, he’d been out of his mind with worry about Linden and Laurel, but still...
“Yes, sir,” Patrick replied. “To check on them and let them know I was fine.”
“Everything okay?”
“A couple of trees uprooted in the park across the street from us, but other than that, yes. My parents are fine. I called them again this afternoon, so they wouldn’t worry if I don’t make it home tonight, either.”
“You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight,” Dirk said firmly.
“Are you sure you won’t need me? Mei-li said—”
Dirk shook his head. “I don’t think so. I—” His smartphone rang, driving all thoughts from his mind. But when he looked he saw a number his phone recognized, the banker he’d called this morning.
“Excuse me,” he told Patrick, moving away a little, then answering the phone in crisp tones. “Dirk DeWinter.”
“Mr. DeWinter?” the banker said. “I just wanted to let you know the money is here. There were no problems with the wire transfer, and as instructed, I opened a new account for you in our bank with the wire. Miss Moore may already have told you, but I am entirely at your disposal anytime, day or night. Rest assured, the money will not be an issue in this unfortunate situation.”
While Dirk hadn’t come right out and stated that his daughters had been kidnapped and held for ransom, the banker Mei-li had steered him to had obviously dealt with kidnappings before...and ransom payments. Just another example of Mei-li’s consummate professionalism, leaving nothing to chance.
He thanked the banker and disconnected. The money was here. If it could buy his daughters’ freedom, he’d pay it gladly. But if the money was just a ploy...
Dirk’s right hand curled into a tightly clenched fist, and he knew with utter certainty that if anything happened to Linden and Laurel he would spend every dime he had to hunt the kidnappers down. And make them pay.
* * *
Mei-li arrived when room service did. Her sharp eyes encompassed the room, and though she was anxious to question Patrick privately, she knew she would have to wait. An opportunity would present itself, and if it didn’t, she’d call him later.
She also had copies of the sketches of the kidnappers her friend had created with Mr. Lin’s help. Not something she was going to share with everyone, only Dirk. She also had copies of the sketches created from Vanessa’s descriptions of the kidnappers. Again, not something she was going to share. Yet.
The room service waiters swiftly set up the meal on the dining room table, then handed the chit to Dirk, who scrawled his name across the bottom. They were just about to sit down to dinner when Dirk’s iPhone sounded an incoming call. He glanced at the screen, then froze. And Mei-li knew the call was from the kidnappers. His lips tightened, but he answered, “Yes?”
Mei-li moved swiftly to his side and pulled his hand down so she could hear the call, too. Whatever was said, she needed to know. Word for word.
“Do you have the money?” a cold voice asked.
Dirk’s eyes squeezed shut, but he answered, “Yes.” His eyes opened and his voice was harsh with emotion when he added, “Where is the picture you promised?” He was holding his breath, Mei-li realized. Waiting. Praying.
“I’ll email it to you as soon as you agree to a good-faith act.”
Dirk let out his breath in a whoosh. “What kind of good-faith act?”
“We want the first million of the ransom in cash.”
Dirk’s eyes met Mei-li’s, and she nodded. “Not a problem,” he said.
“And we want you to deliver it in person.”
Mei-li nodded again. “Done,” Dirk said.
“In four installments.”
Dirk answered before she could signal him this could be a problem. “Whatever it takes,” he rasped. “All I want is my daughters back. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do.”
The cold voice didn’t change, didn’t acknowledge the repressed emotion in Dirk’s tone. “Good. Get the money first thing in the morning—US, not Hong Kong dollars. Prepare four separate packages. Plain brown paper, tied with string. Place each parcel in a cloth shopping bag to disguise it—the kind of bag all Hong Kong women carry. Then wait for instructions.”
“When?” Dirk demanded. “Where? Where do I deliv—”
The voice dripped ice. “Just wait to hear from us. Don’t leave your hotel—instructions will be delivered to you there.”
In that instant Mei-li knew the kidnappers were aware Dirk had left the hotel today. Probably knew where he’d gone. So either Dirk was under observation by one or more of the kidnappers—and she didn’t buy that theory because she was positive no one had followed them—or they’d hit a raw spot when they’d questioned the pilots of the planes this afternoon. Mei-li was betting on the latter. Only she, Dirk and Rafe knew where they’d been. None of the others did, so they couldn’t have passed that info along. And while it was certainly possible Rafe was working hand in glove with the kidnappers, he would have taken a huge risk disclosing their actions this afternoon, because that would point the finger of suspicion directly at him.
Her brain assembled and assimilated these facts and conjectures in mere seconds, and she concluded they’d struck a nerve. That meant one of the pilots they’d questioned this afternoon had contacted the kidnappers. And since all five planes had originally intended to take off yesterday—the same day the girls were kidnapped—that meant it was highly likely one of those planes had been the intended mode of transport to spirit the twins out of Hong Kong. And that meant the kidnappers had no intention of releasing Dirk’s daughters, no matter how much ransom he paid—but it also meant they probably weren’t planning to kill them, either.
Immense relief washed through her. She wanted to share this heartening news with Dirk, but she couldn’t—not with everyone listening in. Instead she mouthed the word, “Agree,” to Dirk.
“Agreed,” he told the man on the other end of the phone. “I’ll have to go to the bank in person tomorrow to withdraw the money, but otherwise I’ll wait here. But I want a picture of my daughters now. And before the money goes anywhere tomorrow, I’ll want a picture of them taken right before I leave.” He drew a deep breath, and an ache speared through Mei-li—she knew what Dirk was thinking. She knew. “One last thing. Before I leave the money anywhere, I have to talk with my daughters...to know they’re still alive.”
A long silence at the other end was finally broken. “Agreed.” Then the voice added, “The first picture is on its way,” right before the call was abruptly disconnected.
Two minutes later a musical tone sounded, the smartphone’s notification that an incoming email had been received. Mei-li watched as Dirk fumbled to open it, then quickly clicked on the attachment.
&nb
sp; His absolute stillness frightened her, and she touched his arm. “Dirk?”
His face contracted, and she saw the control he exerted on himself—every muscle clenching against a terrifyingly savage reaction. He thrust the phone into her hand with a muttered imprecation, then strode from the room without saying another word. The study doors closed behind him, not with the resounding thud she expected, but with a control that was even more terrifying.
She glanced down at the picture Dirk had received, and a pang went through her. Small as it was, every detail was clearly visible. And as surely as if he’d told her, she knew he’d taken the tear stains on Linden’s and Laurel’s faces as an indictment of himself. Of how he’d failed to keep them safe.
She let out a tiny sigh, knowing she needed to discuss this with Dirk, despite his obvious desire to be alone. But before she did, she had one other thing to do. Her fingers flew over the touch screen, forwarding the email—and its poignant picture—to her own account. Then she pulled out her own phone and sent a text message. When the email from Dirk’s account popped into her mailbox, she forwarded that on, too.
* * *
Dirk was standing by the window in his study, hands in his pockets, staring out at the harbor, when a knock sounded on the door. He ignored it at first, lost in memories of how Linden and Laurel were both so fascinated by the constant stream of ships in the harbor—modern-day tankers and ancient pirate ships alike. How they both loved watching as twilight moved into evening and the lights on the buildings across the way on Hong Kong Island flickered to life one by one—a kaleidoscope of colors—until the harbor was one big light show reflected in the fast-moving water.
When the knocking on the door continued, he breathed deeply, girding himself for a conversation he didn’t want to have, and called out, “It’s open.”
