Dangerous Journey (11 page)

The man’s whole body seemed to vibrate, then crumpled to the floor.

The other man noticed the commotion and turned his head just long enough for Darius to land a crushing blow to his momentarily unprotected jaw.

Darius and C.J. backed toward the window. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She raised hers and returned his glance. Slowly, a smile crept across his face, her lips curving upward in response. How astounding, she thought, as she looked at her captors lying on the floor.

Then, grinning smugly, she and Darius crawled out the window and escaped.

Chapter 9

Darius unlocked the door to C.J.’s hotel room and walked in. She was sitting in her bed, leaning against a pile of pillows, with the covers pulled up around her neck. A short while earlier she had cleansed the blisters on her hands and had changed into a very unsexy cotton nightgown—the only kind she owned.

“Room service will bring up your order as soon as possible,” he said, broad smile on his face. “And I found some ointment and bandages for your hands.”

He perched on the edge of the bed, dipped two fingers into the jar of the greasy, healing balm and held her hands as if they were fragile porcelain while he smeared ointment on them.

“I think you could use a little of that yourself,” she said, eyeing a red mark on his jaw and his slightly scraped knuckles.

“No, I’ll be fine. And you will, too.” He covered not only the areas of her hands with blisters, but her entire palm and fingers. She wasn’t about to complain or correct him. No one had ever tried to help her that way since she was a little kid, and even then, her mother usually just handed her Bactine when she had a scrape or cut.

“At least I learned what ‘C.J.’ stands for,” he said as he meticulously covered both hands.

She looked puzzled. “You did?”

“Yep. Calamity Jane.”

She laughed. “Very funny! I don’t even know how many days I was there, and you make jokes about it!”

“Days?” It was his turn to chuckle as he finished his ministration. “Four or five hours are more like it.”

“That’s all? I thought it was an eternity!” Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “Thank you for finding me. I was dumb to go there, and deep down, I knew it even as I got into the car with those two men. I should learn to listen to my gut reaction.”

“Or mine. As I recall, I did warn you.” With a feather-soft touch he brushed her hair away from her brow, and tucked a lock of it behind her ear.

“Saying ‘I told you so’ is not an admirable characteristic, Mr. Kane. I feel bad enough already.”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Enough said.”

“But how did you find me?”

He scowled. “It wasn’t hard. When I couldn’t find you, I figured Alan had talked you into going back to Yeng’s. Your brother’s a bigger menace than I thought!”

“He wouldn’t knowingly send me into danger.”

Darius shut his eyes for a moment, as if to stop the retort he was ready to give. “Let’s hope you’re right. Anyway, there was quite a bit of activity around Yeng’s place. Then, late in the afternoon, he and most of the others left, which gave me a chance to sneak in.”

She gasped as he suddenly grabbed her shoulders. “If you ever do anything so dangerous again,” he shouted, “it won’t be Yeng you’ll have to worry about! It’ll be me. Why won’t you listen to me?”

The timbre of his voice told her how hurt he had been by her lack of trust in him. She longed to take his hands, but she couldn’t—hers were too greasy. Instead, she proceeded to tell him the whole story of her conversation with Alan, of meeting the two men outside the city prison, and then of telling Yeng about Chan Li.

Room service arrived. A bacon, lettuce and tomato club sandwich with a cup of clam chowder helped her to feel considerably more at peace with the world. She wiped some of the ointment off her fingertips so she could eat. Darius didn’t say anything else until her meal had ended and she was sipping a cup of coffee.

“Alan was released today,” he said finally.

“Released? Really?” She stared at him and he nodded. “That’s wonderful! But now I’m even more confused. Yeng said he was going to see that Alan was released, and it seems he did. But why would he lock me up?”

“I’m not so sure it was Yeng, C.J. I doubt he has any influence with British Intelligence, and they’re the ones who were holding Alan.”

“Why, then, was he released?”

“I don’t know. All I can say is that the next step is Alan’s.”

“It is?” Her mind was spinning. Had Yeng gotten Alan released? Or, if he hadn’t done it, who had? And why?

“One way or the other,” Darius said, “Alan is the key to everything.”

A chill swept over her. “I see.”

“He’ll try to contact you here eventually, and I suspect Yeng’s men will be watching your every move.”

“Great. Now I’m a prisoner in my own hotel room.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to stay here. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind staying with you.”

“Really? In that case, got a pack of cards?” She gave a half-hearted smile. “I’m a whiz at gin rummy.”

He eyed her. “I’ve got a better idea, Cinderella. Tonight your pumpkin turns into a coach.”

She was puzzled. “But I thought—”

“We won’t be able to leave the hotel, but it has a restaurant and even a cocktail lounge with a dance floor. What do you say? Does it sound like fun?”

Fun and then some, she thought. Did she dare go? She could stay here and rest, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She could stay and worry about Alan, but that wouldn’t help. Knowing him, she half expected him to call and say British intelligence realized their mistake and he was going back to the Peace Corps in Sarawak.

“All right,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded so breathless. “Let’s do it.”

“Great.” He stood. “I’ll change into something more presentable. Maybe even a tie and dinner jacket. I’ll be back in no time.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But first, promise me that if Alan calls and has another bright idea, you will not leave this room without me.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, C.J.” She had already learned that when he called her C.J. he was deadly serious. “If I return,” he continued, “and you’re gone, I will personally wring your neck. Do you under—”

“Yes, yes, yes. Now get out of here.”

He looked as if he wanted to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he quickly turned and left.

She placed her fingertips against her lips as she watched the door close behind him. In a moment she threw back the covers and jumped off the bed. She had so much to do to get ready.

She ran to the closet: two slacks, one skirt, three blouses, and only one dress, a practical rust-colored synthetic no-wrinkle sundress. Her heart sank. Packing for the jungles of Sarawak just didn’t include glad rags. As she reached for the hanger, being careful not to touch the dress itself with her greasy hands, she realized that she didn’t own the kind of clothes she would want to wear on a date with Darius.

She had to wash her hair, do her nails. She looked down at her hands and suddenly felt dizzy.

All her excitement dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. The terrors of the day came flooding back, and she abruptly sat on the edge of the bed again, still holding her hands out in front of her.

What am I doing? she wondered.

She carefully washed the ointment off her palms, reapplied only small dabs on the blisters and then covered them with bandaids. She leaned forward, her heart pounding, trying to recover her composure.

She reached for an emery board and began methodically trying to salvage something from the mess her nails had become. As she worked, her breathing returned to normal.

Darius would be back soon; she had to pull herself together. She wondered what he would look like in a tie and dinner jacket—probably like a caged animal. The idea was incongruous. Darius belonged outdoors; he belonged where a man could be free to live by his wits and his strength. He was as wild as the jungle, and she loved him for it.

Loved him? No, she shook her head, not love. She was fascinated, intrigued. Maybe even a bit in lust. Who was she kidding? There was no maybe about it.

But not love. She wasn’t the type to fall in love, and she definitely wasn’t the type others fell in love with. As the years passed, she had become ever more accepting of her solitary existence.

Yet if she were the type to fall in love, it would be with someone like Darius.

She put down the nail file, surprised at how her hand was shaking, then headed for the shower.

She dried her hair, took special care with her makeup, and was applying a dab of cologne when she heard a knock at the door. Darius called out, “It’s me.”

Pulling her robe tightly around her, she opened the door.

How could I have been so wrong?
was the first thought that came to her. The second was that she should shut her mouth, because she must look ridiculous with it gaping open.

“May I come in?” Darius asked, standing in the door way.

She stepped aside, still speechless. To think that she had imagined he would look out of place in a dinner jacket. The obviously expensive jacket was light gray, worn with slacks in a darker shade. His shirt was white, and the tie blended pink and gray in diagonal stripes.

His tan was even more striking than it was with his usual, sportier clothes. The golden ends of his hair curled lazily around the collar of the shirt, and his eyes were captivating as ever.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, then, charming as you are standing there in that robe, unless you’d like me in a similar state of undress, I suggest you put some clothes on.”

She looked down at herself. “Oh! Please, sit down. I’ll just be a minute.”

She took her dress into the bathroom and finished getting ready. The sleeveless dress had a simple V neckline, a long sash around the waist, and hugged her full figure.

As she stepped into the room, Darius stood, his eyes shining as he drank in the soft material that emphasized the curve of her breasts, her waist and inviting hips.

“Maybe you are Cinderella! You look beautiful.” His voice was quiet, intense.

She felt herself blush at his compliment, wanting, but not daring, to believe him. No one had ever accused her of being beautiful before.

“Here, I brought this for you,” he said.

C.J. hadn’t even noticed the small box he had been carrying as he entered the room.

“Oh, Darius,” was all she could say when she opened it.

Inside was an orchid, a blend of orange, yellow and rust— exactly the same shade as her dress. Her gaze lifted to his.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, running her finger over the soft petals. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one of these before.”

“The men you knew were really blind, C.J.”

She searched his eyes, expecting to see that he was joking, but his expression was that of a man looking at a woman he admired. Her throat tightened, and she dropped her gaze, flustered.

“Here,” he said, taking the orchid in his hand. “Let me help you.” He stepped close to her, the heady, masculine scent of his after shave filling the air. “Hmm,” he said, “where should it go?” He turned the corsage this way and that in the vicinity of her shoulder.

“Right here.” She pointed to a spot on the shoulder of her dress. “This way.” She turned the orchid right side up, brushing his hand with hers as she did so. She scarcely breathed.

The heat of his fingers against her skin caused a quick intake of her breath. Quickly, she clasped her hands behind her back, not trusting them with him so near.

“Thank you,” she said, having trouble regaining her voice.

He didn’t step back, but he did move his hand from the neckline of the dress to her neck, then ran his finger along her throat, then upward.

She stood rigid, scarcely breathing.

His eyes bored into her, studying her face. His expression filled with tenderness as he dropped his hand. “I told the desk clerk where we’d be, so if Alan calls, they’ll be able to find you,” he said.

Alan. Of course. She couldn’t allow herself to forget that Darius’s main—probably only—reason for being here was Alan to track down the White Dragon and claim the reward. She nodded.

“I’m sure he’s all right,” Darius said as they headed for the elevator.

At the far corner of the lobby, near the main entrance to the hotel, hidden behind a partition of ferns and lattice- work, was a cocktail lounge. A lonesome piano stood in the corner.

Darius led C.J. to a small table. The bar was empty, except for the two of them and the bartender.

“This is nice,” C.J. said. “The ferns remind me of a place near my apartment called Muldoon’s. Thursday nights they serve a great pasta spread. I usually go. It breaks up the monotony of the week.”

“Muldoon’s sells pasta in a fern bar?”

“It’s L.A.” C.J. shrugged.

Chuckling, Darius walked to the bar to order a whiskey sour for her and scotch on the rocks for himself. When he returned to the table, she pointed at the piano in the corner. The combo hadn’t yet shown up.

“I’m sure no one will mind if you play something.”

He grinned. “You know me and pianos. Once I start, you have to pry me loose from the keys.”

“So play.” She touched his hand. “Play something for me. Please?”

He placed his other hand on top of hers and squeezed gently.

“If that’s what you want.” He got up and spoke briefly to the bartender. C.J. saw the man nod and shrug in a way that indicated he couldn’t care less. Darius sat down at the piano, looked at her and winked.

He played a medley of popular tunes,
If Ever I Would Leave You, Love Look Away, A Time For Us,
and ending with
Somewhere
from
West Side Story
. The songs were beautiful and sad, and Darius played with all the emotional intensity the work deserved. People came into the bar as his playing progressed, not to drink, but to listen.

When he stopped, they applauded warmly. He looked shocked. He’d been concentrating so intently on the music that he hadn’t even been aware when they entered.