Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1

by Freethy, Barbara

  "The point is I couldn't even make my own cat do what I wanted it to do." She shook a finger at him. "And don't you dare call me poor little rich girl again. You'd feel bad if your pet didn't like you."

  "I never had a pet, not one that belonged just to me. There were some animals at one of the communes we lived in. It was actually more of a farm with pigs, chickens, dogs, cats."

  "You lived in a commune? Like a cult kind of place?"

  "More like a transient, don't-feel-like-being-a-responsible-citizen kind of place."

  "What a crazy life that must have been."

  "It was. Moving into my grandparents' house was culture shock. They ate dinner every night at six o'clock, not six-fifteen or six-thirty, but six. My grandfather always had the same cocktail before dinner, a Manhattan. And my grandmother used to watch game shows on a small television set in the kitchen as she cleaned up after us. They had so many rules I thought I'd gone to prison."

  She smiled at him. "You liked it."

  "I liked the structure, the predictability," he admitted. "It was sometimes stifling, and I complained a lot, but deep down it felt good to know what was going to happen from day to day."

  "And that's what you liked about being a marine, too?"

  "Yes. Plus I got to combine that structure with danger and excitement."

  "Do you miss it?"

  "Sometimes." He thought about her question far more seriously than she'd probably intended, but then again, he'd been considering the subject a lot lately. "But this is where I'm meant to be."

  "Do you like the security business? Or are you doing it out of a sense of responsibility to your grandparents?"

  "I like it. There are certainly opportunities for improved security these days."

  "So it's going to be a long-term commitment?"

  "Did I say that?"

  She smiled. "You don't like that word—commitment."

  "Most things don't last. Not jobs, not relationships."

  "You're very cynical. And yet you have grandparents who adore each other. They grew together not apart."

  "They're the rare exception."

  "Maybe," she admitted, her smile dimming. "My parents certainly aren't a shining example of anything."

  "Let's go find your sister," he said, as he pulled the car into a parking space.

  "Words I never thought I'd hear again," she muttered. "I'm not sure I want you to call Alyssa my sister. We haven't figured out what we are to each other yet."

  "You're sisters by blood."

  "But we don't know each other. She doesn't trust me. I'm not sure I trust her."

  He smiled. "Sounds like every family I've ever known, Paige. At any rate, she called, and we're here, so let's go meet her. The trust issues can wait."

  * * *

  "The class started a little late," a young Asian woman told Alyssa. "Ben said to tell you to wait for him." She waved her hand toward the gym. "There are chairs along the wall if you want to sit down."

  Alyssa walked into the studio and paused just inside the door. Ben and another man faced off in the middle of the room. They were both bare to the waist, dressed in black pants and barefoot. She watched in fascination, every move, every attack, every defense. There was strength, skill, stubbornness, determination, agility, and courage in the way they fought.

  Ben had taken martial arts classes for years, but she'd never actually seen him fight, and she hadn't realized he'd become so masterful at the art. She tended to think of him as an intellectual man, not a strong physical being, but it was quite clear now that that impression did not do him justice. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of him.

  Today, at this minute, he wasn't a modern-day reporter. He was an ancient warrior, a man of power, a force to be reckoned with, a man who was making her feel really hot and very female. She waved her hand in front of her face and sat down in a nearby chair. The match continued for another five minutes. Ben finally took his opponent down with a spinning kick.

  She let out the breath she had been holding as Ben extended his hand to his opponent. He helped him to his feet, then they bowed to each other. The instructor said a few words to both of them, then Ben turned toward her, a soldier returning from battle to the woman left waiting for him. She had to fight back the ridiculous impulse to run into his arms and hold him tight, to make sure he hadn't been hurt.

  This wasn't a fantasy. This was reality. Ben was her childhood friend, her pal, not some godlike warrior out of a movie. So why did she feel so anxious and tense around him?

  "Hi," he said, his voice deep and husky.

  Had he always sounded this sexy? She cleared her throat. "Hi. You said you had some information?"

  "Actually, I said we should talk to my uncle."

  "Right." She could barely remember what he'd said. "Do you want to put on a shirt or something?"

  A small smile played across his lips, and she damned herself for being so obvious.

  "Sure, I'll put on a shirt." He walked over to a chair and grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift gesture. "Better?"

  "I don't really care. I thought you might be cold. It's not good to get sweaty and then walk around in the cold air. You'll stiffen up."

  "Thanks for the concern."

  "There's something else. I called Paige Hathaway and asked her to meet us here. I hope that's all right?"

  "That depends on why you called her." His eyes sharpened with curiosity. "I know she's interested in the dragon, but there's more to it than that, isn't there?"

  "Yes." She took a step back, drawing him into a private corner so they wouldn't be overheard. "My mother actually had a more personal relationship with David Hathaway than I led you to believe." She drew in a deep breath, not sure she could actually say the words. It would be the first time she'd said them out loud to anyone except her mother. But Ben was her friend. She could trust him. "David Hathaway is my father."

  His eyes widened. "You're kidding."

  She shook her head. "No, I'm not."

  "That's quite a piece of news." His expression changed. "Oh, wait a second, he's hurt, isn't he?”

  "He's getting better. He's conscious now."

  "Have you spoken to him?"

  "Not yet. Which is fine, because I'm not even sure what I want to say to him."

  "So Paige Hathaway is your half-sister," he said slowly. "And the two of you are interested in the dragon because... Okay, I've lost the thread."

  "Because David Hathaway showed the dragon to my mother the day he was assaulted. She might have been the last person to see it."

  "You want to protect your mother."

  "And Paige wants to protect her company from a lawsuit since they hadn't purchased the statue when Mr. Hathaway took it from the store."

  "Do you think you should be calling him Mr. Hathaway when he's your father?"

  "I don't know what to call him," she said with frustration. "The whole thing is strange. I've wanted to know who my father was for so long. I had this dream that I fit in better with him and his family than I did with my own. I used to think about running away to find him."

  "Alyssa—"

  "Now I know who my father is," she said, cutting him off, "and it doesn't make any more sense. I'm not a Hathaway. I can't fit in with them."

  "You don't know that. You don't know who they really are."

  "What would we have in common?"

  "You won't find out if you don't try. And I suspect you want to try, or else Paige wouldn't be joining us."

  "I just don't want her making trouble for my mother." She wouldn't let herself look at any other motives right now. "I think it's better if I know what she's up to than let her do this on her own."

  "Whatever your reason, it's a start." He looked up as the front door opened. "There they are now." He waved them over.

  "I hope we haven't kept you waiting," Paige said as she and Riley joined them.

  "Not at all," Ben replied. "I need just a moment, and then I'll take you
upstairs."

  "Upstairs?" Riley queried.

  "My uncle knows a great deal about Chinese artifacts. I asked him to speak with us about the dragon you're seeking. I'll be right back."

  "Thanks for calling," Paige said to Alyssa. She could see that Alyssa had stiffened upon their approach, and she wanted to put her at ease. "We really appreciate your help."

  "Whoa, what is this?" Riley murmured in amazement.

  Paige turned to see two men sizing each other up in the middle of the studio. In their hands were long, curved, single-edged blades.

  "They are using broadswords," Alyssa said.

  "I didn't think weapons were involved in the martial arts," Paige replied.

  "The swords were used in ancient times, as the hand weapons of military foot soldiers."

  "I would have liked one of those," Riley said with macho enthusiasm.

  Paige rolled her eyes. "You are such a guy," she muttered. They all sat down together in the corner as the sparring proceeded.

  Alyssa leaned in closer to explain what was going on. "The use of the broadsword requires speed and strength and excellent footwork. One wrong move could mean death."

  "It looks dangerous," Paige commented.

  "It is, but these two are highly skilled. And they will use every resource they have. Wisdom and courage, sharp eyes, fast hands, and the ability to confuse the opponent."

  Paige saw exactly what she meant as the two men spun and kicked, thrust and parried, moving like dancers in an odd, brutal, killing ballet. Yet there was something beautiful about the fight, something intriguing. Ever since that dragon had appeared, her days had taken such a strange turn, leading her into a world she'd never seen before. She wouldn't have believed she'd enjoy watching a fight like this, but these men were so warrior like, so elemental in what they were doing. They were pushing themselves to the limit, a mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual battle. They were living the way she should be living.

  A few moments later the sparring ended. The two men bowed to each other and moved off the floor amid sporadic clapping from the spectators sitting around the room.

  "That was very cool," Riley said with enthusiasm. "I think I might have to take a class."

  "Have you studied martial arts?" Alyssa asked.

  "A little tai chi, some kickboxing, karate, nothing for any length of time. I think I'll grab a flyer from the front desk."

  Paige shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips as she saw him heading fast and furiously into something new and exciting. What kind of woman could ever keep a man like this happy and feeling challenged? It would take a unique person. Someone who lived life to the fullest, who wasn't afraid of new experiences, who loved a good fight. Was that her? Or was she just kidding herself?

  "Is there something between you two?" Alyssa asked, her question mirroring Paige's own thoughts.

  "Well, uh, Riley's grandmother is the owner of the dragon."

  "That's not what I asked. He's very attractive."

  "Yes, he is."

  "And you like him?"

  "Yes, I do," Paige admitted. "Although I'm not sure I want to."

  For the first time Alyssa smiled, and they exchanged a female look of commiseration.

  "What about you and Ben?" Paige asked.

  "He's been a friend to me my whole life, but we've seen little of each other since high school. I'm not sure it's wise to get involved again, but here I am."

  "That damn dragon is causing all kinds of trouble."

  Alyssa nodded her head in agreement. "I'm not sure we'll be able to find it. But I want to make certain no one thinks my mother had anything to do with its disappearance."

  "I don't think that." And Paige realized it was true. Jasmine might be her father's lover, but she didn't seem like someone who would steal an ancient artifact. She was an artist herself. Still, she couldn't help wondering... "I don't quite understand why my father took the dragon to your mother. Why was it so important that she see it?"

  "She has dreams."

  "She told me that. But it's not clear to me what the dreams mean."

  "Or to me. She has always had them. They're nightmares really. They leave her shaking and trembling, as if she is terrified of something. We have both wondered if there was some experience in her early life that was tied to seeing such a dragon. She told me today that her mother now says she saw the dragon on a trip to Taiwan when she was a small girl. That it was in a museum, and she tried to touch it, setting off many alarms."

  "Really? That's interesting."

  "I don't think it's true. Which makes me wonder why my grandmother would make up such a story."

  "If it isn't true, where did your mother see the dragon?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it truly is in her dreams. She's very spiritual. Not at all like me."

  "Or me. My father—our father—he's a dreamer, too. Maybe that's what they had in common," Paige added. "I used to be so jealous of his fascination with China. I loved hearing his stories when he came home from his trips, but in a way I hated them, too, because he was so much happier when he was there than when he was home, when he was with me."

  "He loved all things Chinese, and yet he couldn't love me," Alyssa said, bitter irony in her voice. "But then, I'm only half Chinese. He made me that way."

  Paige didn't know what to say. The hurt in Alyssa's eyes was so deep, so dark, she wondered if it could ever be mended. "I'm sorry," she said with heartfelt sincerity. Even though her father hadn't always been there, at least he'd been around some of the time.

  "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

  "I know that. What you should know is that I wasn't the favorite daughter, either. I had a sister. Elizabeth died when she was seven and I was six. She was his favorite. He loved her more than anyone or anything. He still goes to her grave every year on her birthday to give her a present. It's on Wednesday, by the way—her birthday. I think he might have woken up just so he could make that trip. God, I sound like a jealous sister, don't I?"

  "I don't know. I was an only child."

  "Not any more." Paige didn't know when she had decided she wanted Alyssa to be part of her life. An hour ago, she'd been waffling, but it suddenly seemed clear that she had a chance to make this relationship whatever they both wanted it to be. "We've got the power now," she said. "My father didn't tell me about you. Your mother didn't tell you about him. But now it's just about us, what we want to be to each other. That's a good thing."

  Alyssa seemed a bit taken aback by her words. "I suppose," she said slowly. "I understand our father is awake now. Has he told you anything more about his visit to Chinatown?"

  "No. He can't remember the last week. Hopefully it will come back. Until then, we'll work together to protect our parents." Paige looked up as Riley returned with a flyer in his hand. "Find any classes?”

  "A few, not that I have time."

  "I have a feeling you'll make time."

  "You could take the class with me."

  She laughed. "You'd trust me with a long blade in my hand?"

  "Only if mine is bigger."

  "Spoken like a true man."

  Before Riley could reply, Ben rejoined them. "I'm ready now. Please forgive the delay. If you'll follow me, we'll go see my uncle."

  Paige smiled at Riley as he sent a look of longing at the sparring about to take place, this time with long, pointed spears. "Come on," she said, grabbing his arm. "You can play later. We have work to do."

  Chapter Twenty

  "My uncle, Guy Fong, still teaches calligraphy classes every Saturday night," Ben said as they approached the upstairs apartment. "He may be finishing up with his students. If so, we will have to wait patiently and quietly. He does not tolerate interruptions."

  Paige nodded as Ben opened the door. As he had said, there were three adolescents sitting at the dining room table, carefully painting Chinese characters with long, ornate brushes.

  They moved in closer so they could watch what the children were
doing. Paige was surprised by the preciseness of their script, the attention to detail, the concentration of three kids who surely would have wanted to do something else on a Saturday night. Ben's uncle stood at one end of the table, a short man with a square face and thick black hair. His eyes were a piercing black, his expression stern and uncompromising as he watched his young charges. If she'd had to guess at his age, she would have said mid-forties, but she couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was the otherworldliness of what was happening in the room that made him seem older.

  Time obviously passed slowly in this apartment where an ancient art was being taught to children who were being raised in an age of video games and fast food, fast everything. It seemed extraordinary that they would be painting characters instead of pounding a keyboard or moving a mouse. But apparently Mr. Fong was a man who believed in traditions. Paige respected that. It was nice to see something being preserved and passed on from one generation to the next. There was too little of that in the world.

  She was also beginning to see where her father's passion for China and everything Chinese had come from. He loved old things, traditions that never changed, rituals and ceremonies. He'd been born in the wrong century and the wrong place. Maybe it was people like her father and Mr. Fong who were meant to show others the value of such time-honored customs.

  A few moments later, the children set down their brushes and the tension in the room eased as Mr. Fong nodded approvingly at each paper passed to him. He said some words in Cantonese that Paige didn't understand. The children's faces broke into smiles that were matched now by the one on their teacher's face. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out three bright oranges and handed one to each.

  "For prosperity and good luck," Alyssa said, answering Paige's unspoken question. "A long and fruitful life."

  "Uncle," Ben said as the children left the apartment. "These are the friends I spoke to you about. You remember Alyssa Chen."

  "Alyssa." Guy bowed to her. "How is your family? Your grandparents are well?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  Ben continued the introductions and Mr. Fong greeted each of them with a welcome and a bow. After refusing his offer of refreshments, they sat down together in the living room.