Tempting trouble, p.21
Tempting Trouble, page 21
The place became a pandemonium of action. Lance sat up, watching his men extinguish the fire. Grimly, he walked toward the damaged car. It didn’t look like his scholar survived after all.
***
“Aiyah, Grace, what a surprise!” Fat Joe opened the back entrance to the restaurant.
“I need you to come with me, Fatt Choy,” Grace said, tugging at his dirty apron.
Sensing her urgency, he followed immediately and caught his breath when he saw the reclining man in her back seat. Checking his pulse, he asked, “Does the Big Cat know?”
She shook her head. “I only brought him here because of his condition. Can’t take him to the hospital. I figure you can get hold of Lance for me.”
“Why don’t you hand him over yourself?” Fat Joe got into the car, adjusting the driver’s seat to fit his wider body.
After a moment’s hesitation, Grace got into the passenger’s seat. “I’m not supposed to be interfering. I’m,” she gestured helplessly, “ah, a ghost.”
She hoped he understood. He cocked his head.
“I see.” He nodded, driving down back alleys. “Non-aligns.” He looked at her with new interest. “I did think you were somehow different. Guess I was right. Why did you come to me, little ghost?”
He smiled at her. Beyond a mere lift of a brow, he didn’t register much surprise.
“You know the nuns,” Grace pointed out, then impishly added, “and looked good with him that day too.”
Fat Joe laughed. “Now I really know you’re a ghost. You have the eyes of one.”
“Fatt Choy? Don’t mention how you got him.”
“I understand. Anything else?”
“Yes. Tell him David’s been chanting two things before he passed out. He kept saying ‘Big Cat’ and something that sounded like ‘home’ in Chinese.”
“Home?”
“He kept saying ‘jia li’ or ‘jeeah li,” she explained. “It was rather garbled, but it sounded like ‘home’ in Chinese.”
“I’ll tell him. Jia li,” Fat Joe repeated. He looked at the inert body of the scholar in the rearview mirror. “I wonder what that means.”
“I assume that’s code of some sort. Maybe Lance will know.”
The car slowed. “You’re too young for this kind of game, little ghost,” Fat Joe told her as he stopped the car. “Lance will have my hide if he knows. You’re going to get me in trouble.”
Grace turned and grinned at him in the dimly lit alley. “Distract him. Cook him something good to eat.”
Fat Joe grinned back.
***
“There’s nobody in the trunk, sir!” the man stated the obvious.
“They tricked us!” Dan stared at the burned out shell.
“No.” Lance got on his haunches, looking at the back of the car intently. He picked up some metallic remnant, turning it over in the light. The dangling license plate in front of him caught his attention. He made a sound of disgust, and added, “They were tricked.”
Dan squatted down, grunting as his knees protested. Leaning closer, he examined the dangling plate and discovered what Lance saw. License plate with 103 was partially covering another plate. The flame bomb had loosened whatever held the fake plate in place.
“Obviously,” Dan remarked, “the perp didn’t have time to change the license plates properly, which,” he glanced at Lance, his eyes watchful, “rules out the senator’s men. They would have attached the fake plate more permanently.”
Lance pulled at the plate and it came off easily. Turning it over, he removed the attached magnetic strip, which was identical to the one he’d just picked up. He scowled behind his hood, feeling the material stretching against his face.
“Damn,” he uttered, and added several other stronger expletives. In the distance, police sirens sounded.
“You have to go before the cops get here,” Dan said, getting up slowly. “I’ll take care of the locals and Homeland. Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”
Lance pocketed the strips. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, temper straining his voice. He’d opened a certain refrigerator enough times to recognize those magnetic strips.
--------------------------------------
*Be On Look Out, tactical term
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grace pulled up at her apartment around midnight. Nice job, she mentally patted herself on the back. She had saved the scholar from the stupid senator and the evil Chinese dudes, and he would be with Lance’s people in a matter of hours. Hopefully, they would take care of him. She frowned. If they didn’t, she had—she groped for and touched what the scholar gave her before he fainted—these. She’d carefully wrapped them in tissue paper. When she got back to her place, she’d better handle them with better care.
She stepped out of her car. Ugh, she must look a sight from all that crawling around. She knew her hair must be mussed up, her dress was partially torn where she’d snagged it somewhere, and there was dirt smeared all over her hose. Grinning, she imagined herself looking like she’d been rolling on the ground with her date.
She gave a small shriek of alarm when a dark shadow suddenly loomed before her and grabbed her by the shoulders. Under the soft building lights, she caught a glimpse of cold blue eyes and a mane of dark blond hair before her lips were bruisingly captured. Struggling from surprise, she tried to pull from the big hands on her shoulders, but he only gathered her against his chest with brutal power. Her gasp from the impact allowed him to plunder the inside of her mouth, and he attacked angrily, his tongue punishing, his hands trapping her, his body pushing her against her car. Her neck snapped backward at the onslaught of his kiss.
Heat. It engulfed her whole being, burning recklessly through her defenses. She tasted rage and desire, knew she was irrevocably being shown who was in charge. In spite of the initial protests, she fiercely gave in to the storm of need that blanketed them both. Frantically moving closer, responding wildly, she tore at his shirtfront, even though he still held on to her tightly.
He demanded and she willingly surrendered. Almost.
“What in the hell is going on?” A furious and familiar voice shot out into the semi-darkness. Grace heard it over the crescendo of emotions and struggled to free herself. Her captor released her lips, but not the commanding hold of her body. She turned toward the voice and blanched.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“Hell,” she muttered through passion-swollen lips, blinking rapidly.
“Grace?” The voice called her name, full of questions, mixed with incredulity and anger.
“Grace?” Her tormentor repeated above her turned head, still not releasing her.
She tried to step out of his arms, but they tightened like a predator around a prey. If he had sharp enough teeth, she distractedly mused, he would probably sink them in her right now to claim his killing. She slowed her breathing, telling herself to remain calm. Actually, she wanted to laugh. Hysterically.
“Who is he?”
Both men synchronized their accusations, one indignantly, the other in mocking reference. She closed her eyes briefly.
“Tim,” she managed to choke out, “wha…what are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be here Tuesday night when I called.” Her estranged boyfriend stepped closer, anger and hurt in his face. “And you changed the locks to the apartment. How come?”
Oh God, she had forgotten. She’d been—she glared up at amused blue eyes—preoccupied. “I …” She coughed and Lance pounded her back with a cheerfulness that earned him another baleful glare.
“You better let my girlfriend go now,” Tim interrupted, snapping like a vicious puppy, obviously not in the mood to be polite to someone who was stealing his property.
“I don’t see the lady complaining,” Lance smoothly pointed out, then looked at Grace. “Darling, you really shouldn’t play with fire. You might get burned.”
She realized he was punishing her. Behind his eyes lurked the deep blue of a murderous temper. She could handle Tim’s anger, but she didn’t think she could control Lance’s. Be indifferent or retaliate, her crazy mind yelled out a solution. As if she had a choice.
Retaliate.
She let her anger simmer over. “Let me go,” she said in as steady a voice as she could.
“Not quite yet,” he countered, his own dangerously soft. “There is the matter of something you have that I want.” His hold tightened even more. He amended, “Actually, more than one thing you have that I want.”
“Grace, I want an explanation for this,” Tim demanded, stepping even closer. He wasn’t as tall as Lance, but he was a muscular young man, with incredible strength, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. He was gauging the man holding his girlfriend.
Grace easily read Tim’s mind. Oh-oh. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Strangely, she didn’t feel much beyond the initial shock of seeing Tim. No remorse. No guilt. Only she was very sorry she had hurt him.
“I know,” she said. She owed him at least an explanation. She looked up at Lance, “Please, let me go.”
“Where’s David Cheng?” Lance demanded instead.
She blinked. “David?”
“Don’t play with me, woman,” he warned. “I know you have him somewhere.”
“Don’t be silly, I was at the Conven….” She stopped at the sight of the magnetic strips he was dangling in front of her face. “Oh.”
“Yours, I believe,” he sneered. “I think I warrant an explanation too.”
Stupid, she berated herself, you stupid, careless—
“Grace!” Tim grabbed her arm, frustrated that she wasn’t paying him attention. “Come with me, right now!”
“No.” Sandwiched between two muscular bodies, Grace heard Lance answer for her. “She has to come with me.”
“The hell she will!” Tim pulled furiously.
Grace’s feet stumbled one way, while her upper body, held prisoner by her other tormentor, stayed in the same position. Maybe they could explain to each other, she thought sarcastically. Before she could tell them both what she thought of their manhandling talents, a voice sounded from the balcony.
“Is something wrong?”
This time, Grace groaned aloud.
“Oh, it’s you, Lance! And Tim!” Mary Tucker’s honey lilt floated down toward the tense trio under her balcony. “Where’s Grace? Oh, there you are!”
Tim ignored the newcomer, still insistently pulling at Grace’s arm. “You come with me right now, or we’re through, Grace! Do you hear me?”
“Let go, Lance.” Grace tried to twist out of his arms. She needed to take control of this situation before it got any further out of hand.
“Not until you answer a few questions,” Lance told her, his voice hard and cold. “You can have her back once I’m finished with her, young man.” His tone was deliberately insolent, insulting.
“You can’t have her. She’ll stay here,” Tim insisted stubbornly.
That was it. Her indignation exploded into outrage. “Nobody,” she emphasized, her eyes flashing from one man to the other. “Nobody is going to have me. I’m not some piece of property one of you own.” She struggled violently now, tugging at her imprisoned arm from one man, and jerking her upper body from the other. “Come on, I’m sick of being squashed by all this macho hot air.”
“How romantic!” Mary Tucker clapped her hands from above. All three ignored her.
“Let her go or I’ll—”
“You two insufferable idiots can—”
“You’re coming with me—”
All three spoke at once, much to the delight of their audience of one. A car drove into the parking area, halting right next to them. Ignoring it, they continued their overlapped conversation, until the window rolled down, and Dan cut in.
“Lance!” There was amusement and shock in his voice.
“Not now,” Lance grounded out, hauling Grace with him toward his car.
She felt like a rag doll being tossed around by two pitbulls as her arm was unceremoniously pulled out from one captor’s grasp to become prisoner to another’s unyielding hold. Tim wasn’t going to stand there and quietly watch his girlfriend being spirited away. He slapped a muscular arm on Lance’s neck to pull him back for a punch. She ducked. Lance loosened his hold of her, neatly blocking the swing, then twisting his arm behind his back in one quick smooth move.
Freed, Grace sprang away. Ignoring Tim’s howls of pain and string of curses, she skipped up the stairs two at a time. Behind her, she heard the man in the car say, “Lance, Fat Joe contacted me. He said he’s got something you want.”
Lance didn’t even pause, automatically pinning Tim against the hood of a nearby car. “Really.” He looked up and called out, “I’ll be back later, Grace.”
She turned in mid-flight. “Don’t bother,” she yelled back. “You won’t be welcomed.”
“Grace!” Tim yelled from his position. “Grace!”
“You’re not welcome either.” She leaned over the balcony, standing next to the avid Mary Tucker. “Yes, I did get a new bolt for the door and it’ll stay locked tonight. Both of you can hug each other down there, maybe explain to each other that no, no, you don’t actually own anyone by the name of Grace. You can even kiss and make up, then go home and play with your stupid toys.” She wasn’t really making sense, but who cared? She was angry and didn’t appreciate Mary Tucker witnessing her being mauled by two stupid beasts. Men. And this wasn’t even their domain, damn it! It was her apartment building, her place.
“You’re going to be sorry for this!” Tim started ranting, something she had never thought him capable of. Sweet, easy-going Tim. “You lying, cheating, conniving…”
“Shut up,” Lance ordered. “She hasn’t done anything.”
Grace raised her eyebrows in amazement. Defending her, was he?
“You expect me to believe that?” Tim bitterly asked, struggling to stand up. “Grace! I want you to explain this!”
She hesitated, then called down, “Not tonight. I’m not in the mood. Tomorrow. Good night.”
Without a backward glance, she walked down the passage toward her apartment. She had a goodbye speech to practice. She sighed. Maybe two.
“Grace!” Both voices called out in unison after her, one in frustration, the other with quiet command. She ignored them both. Behind her, she heard Mary’s delighted giggle.
“Grace,” Lance repeated softly. There was a thread of violence this time, but she refused to turn around, even though the hair at the back of her neck stood up. She turned the key in the lock. A distant flash of lightning illuminated the passage for an instant before he continued, “Your play time is over.”
Grace carefully closed the door behind her. Outside, she thought she heard a faint rumble of a coming storm. Strange how it made her think of a growling lion.
Downstairs, Lance got into Dan’s car. “Let’s go,” he said shortly. “I’ll pick up my car later.”
Dan drove off. Checking his rearview mirror, he watched the sight of the forlorn young man staring up at the apartment building. “That was an interesting episode,” he remarked.
Lance sighed. “I suppose you aren’t going to be polite and drop the subject,” he said.
“I may be past my prime in, ah, certain aspects, son,” Dan couldn’t help teasing, “but I still can recognize a love triangle when I see one.”
“There is no love triangle,” Lance said, exasperated. He ran impatient fingers through his hair. “Tell me what Fat Joe said.”
“He just said, ‘Tell the Big Cat I have the guy. Come get him, and bring the medics.’”
“Bring the medics?” Lance frowned.
“Yes. I’ve already taken care of that,” Dan told him. He waited a beat. “So, do you think your Miss O’Connor has anything to do with this?”
“I know she did,” Lance curtly replied, his hand automatically rubbing the magnetic strips in his pocket.
“Interesting woman, this Grace,” Dan murmured, looking at Lance when there was a red light. “I ran a few diagnostics on a profile like her. She has remarkably high-level training, similar to someone with years of experience.”
“And yet she acts like she hasn’t any field training,” Lance mused thoughtfully. He’d seen it in her, that very raw aspect of her character, mixing the expected with innocence. He’d found himself drawn to the same unsophisticated sexuality.
“Yes, which points to the fact she might have special one-on-one training, extensively, but no prior experience in missions.”
“She did mention she spent one year training when she was sixteen,” Lance told him. She also said she wasn’t recruited, he remembered.
Dan’s eyebrows lifted. He stepped on the gas as the traffic light turned green. “Sixteen? Impossible, but here she is, qualified to be on par with some of our own.”
“Tell me about it.” Lance’s lips quirked. “She beat every one of our operatives at the exits tonight and got to David Cheng before we did. What I want to know is, how did she get her information faster than us?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“All she would say was, 'whenever there is trouble, Grace happens',” Lance said dryly.
Dan laughed. He decided he liked the young lady. Very much. “She is a mystery. My main interest is, why did she rescue the scholar, then release him to your pal there?”
“Did Fat Joe tell you how he got him?”
Dan shook his head. “I’m just following your assumption. Fat Joe’s message was those few lines, nothing more.” He paused to light his cigarette. “If our scholar is injured, what do you intend to do with Miss O’Connor?”
Lance grimly stared ahead. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Command will probably want her brought in,” Dan cautioned. “They might cancel her.”
Lance cursed. “How much does Command know about her?”
“Just that she’d been seen around the events, nothing more, but you can’t protect her for much longer, Lance.”
“Tell Command I’ll handle her. They owe me that much after all these years.”
