Heart of the Dragon (4 page)

Rebecca hurried over, smiling, thinking that finally
things were looking up, and maybe the dragon, Santelli, really was softhearted to have arranged this meeting. Then the chauffeur shoved her headfirst into the limo’s backseat and a pair of men dragged her between them, each holding one of her arms in brutal grips. A hand was clamped over her mouth, and she saw the flash of a long silver knife as it came to rest in warning against her throat. The chauffeur shut the door calmly, and the limo’s tinted windows blocked out the rest of the world. Rebecca thought her lungs would burst from holding back a scream.

“We’d like to have your cooperation,” one of the men said pleasantly. “So we won’t have to hurt you.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, one black thought rose up through her fear and shock over being tricked.
Never trust a dragon
.

Stretched out facedown on the soft, thick Oriental rug on his apartment floor, wearing only a black towel, which was draped across his hips, Kash tried to relax and clear his mind of Rebecca Brown. His very pregnant, very beautiful Thai masseuse chatted about her husband and family while her hands pounded on a tight knot of muscle in his right shoulder. Her blouse and baggy trousers occasionally brushed his bare skin as she bent over him, her knees sunk into a sumptuous throw pillow.

Kash listened distractedly, his head resting on his folded arms, his eyes shut. He told himself that Rebecca Brown shouldn’t stick in his mind this way, like a slow, sexy dream from which he was reluctant to wake. She was so ordinary—only a little taller than average, a little prettier than average, a little better at hiding her real goals behind an act. But everything added up to something unique. Maybe the secret was that disarming grin she’d given him, that unselfconscious openness.

Kash frowned.
But she’s hiding behind a facade. You believe that. You are convinced of it, aren’t you?

“Stop thinking, please,” his masseuse ordered mildly in Thai. “Your muscles are fighting me. Life was meant to be enjoyed. What occupies your mind so much?”

“A woman,” Kash said dourly.

She laughed. “A man like you must have more women in his bed—and inside his head—than he needs.”

“Of course.”

Kash wondered if she’d be disappointed to know the truth. People who didn’t know him well assumed he had a new woman in his bed each night. To them his dark good looks, wealth, and sophistication added up to a lusty lifestyle. But the people closest to him—and there were only a handful besides Audubon—knew that he spent most of his time alone. Kash brooded sometimes over the difference in his image and the reality. But from his childhood, he’d learned the alternative to being too defensive about intimacy was to become brutally insensitive. He preferred loneliness to that.

He rubbed his forehead, feeling the throbbing in his temples. Thailand stirred up old memories of Vietnam, where, thirty years ago, he’d been born, and where he’d spent the first eight years of his life. On his mother’s side he was one-fourth Vietnamese and one-fourth Egyptian; on his father’s he was half American. He’d never known his biological father. His adopted father, Audubon, loved him and was loved in return, but even the powerful and wealthy Audubon couldn’t change some of life’s crueler realities.

After the masseuse left, he placed a call to Audubon, in Virginia. His father’s longtime assistant, Clarice, quizzed him about his eating habits, whether or not he was behaving himself, and generally treated him as she always had, as if he were still the stony-faced eight-year-old who’d arrived in Audubon’s home straight from the streets of Saigon, in great need of a motherly person to order him around.

Smiling, he affectionately chided her for talking about personal subjects when they were supposed to be conducting business. His father’s highly organized network of private security people owed its smooth communications to her, but he enjoyed teasing her, and she enjoyed telling him to mind his elders.

“Audubon and Elena are in Richmond at the symphony,” Clarice said. “But I can page him. Is it urgent?”

Kash smiled to himself in approval. His adoptive father, now happily married after many years of devoting himself to his unique security service, deserved the privacy and leisure. “No, I only wanted to discuss tactics with him. It can wait. Give him and Elena my love. And if you don’t mind, start checking background on someone for me.”

“I live to serve, boy,” Clarice said with her cheeky Texas twang. “Who’s the subject?”

He told her all he knew about Rebecca Brown. Clarice sniffed smugly. “If she’s for real, I’ll find out.”

“She may be for real, but she may also be working for the Nalinats.”

“Have a little faith, Kash. Some people
are
what they seem to be.”

He was debating that philosophy seconds later when the phone rang. Kash listened to his Thai assistant, who’d been instructed to follow Rebecca Brown any time she left her hotel. When the man told Kash where the intrepid Ms. Brown and her mysterious escorts had gone, and that she hadn’t gone willingly, he was bewildered. He dressed quickly, almost jerking on his clothes in haste. A surprising sense of protectiveness shot through him, along with some guilt. Only
he
had the right to torment Rebecca Brown.

“What do you want from Mayura Vatan?” the wiry man demanded again.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said grimly. Now that they’d taken
the blindfold off, her gaze darted to the walls of the tiny room. They were covered in red velvet and painted with gaudy murals of men and women making love in a variety of badly painted but explicit positions. Her stomach twisted in disgust at the raw sleaziness of the room, with its smell of stale incense, its faded couch and battered table, and most of all the squeaky bed with its bare mattress. She sat as close to the edge as she could. They’d tied her hands behind her and her feet to the bed’s foot. The man who kept asking her questions was seated close beside her. He smelled of sweat and fish. The other man sat on the couch, twirling the knife in one hand.

This was the last straw. She didn’t know where she was, or who they were, or what might happen next. But they worked for Kashadlin Santelli, and she’d rather suffer than cooperate with
him
.

The man beside her ripped the necklace off. She sucked in a sharp breath as pain zipped along the back of her neck. “This is Thai workmanship,” the man said in heavily accented English. “Where did you get it?”

“The jewelry section at the five-and-dime in Dubuque, Iowa.”

The men traded puzzled, then angry, looks. “You are related to the Vatan family,” the one with the knife accused.

She stared at him in disbelief. First Kashadlin Santelli had insisted she worked for the Nalinat family, whoever they were, and now this greasy pair had abducted her because they thought she was part of the Vatan family.

Rebecca’s mind whirled with confusion and fear. “I’m a cartoonist.” There. That’s telling ’em, she thought weakly.

“You know where Mayura Vatan has gone.”

“No.”

“You’ll tell us where she is. You’ve been telling people that she’s your sister.”

“Half sister. I don’t
know
where she is. I thought your boss realized that.” She spat out the name with contempt. “Mr. Santelli.”

The men traded blank looks. She was more bewildered. “You tell us where she is!” the man with the knife shouted. He came over and knelt in front of her. “You tell, or you’ll be sorry.”

She felt icy perspiration on her forehead as she stared at the blade. “I’m already sorry. Sorry your mother had children.” She tried to laugh, but the sound trailed off in breathless horror.

He put the knife tip in the center of her scoop-necked bodice, snagged a bit of material, and sliced upward in one neat stroke. Rebecca’s blood froze, but her heart was pumping wildly. She could either make a joke or faint. “I always … wanted a plunging … neckline on this dress,” she managed to say.

“You’re in a pleasure house,” the man told her, his eyes glinting with victory. “We’ll show you exactly what that means.”

For the second time she thought about screaming, for whatever good it would do. But suddenly loud footsteps sounded in the outer hall, and someone knocked fervently. The men leaped to open the room’s door. A woman spoke to them in rapid Thai, wringing her hands. Rebecca craned her head at the squeals and protests coming from elsewhere in the house, running feet, and men’s voices speaking in fluid Thai, which she couldn’t understand at all.

Her captors shoved the door wide open and bounded out, apparently escaping in the opposite direction. She gazed wide-eyed at the doorway and waited with dread. Whoever had arrived might be worse.

Soon footsteps came down the hall. Her heart froze as Kashadlin Santelli filled the doorway. He wore only black slacks and a gray dress shirt, with the collar open and sleeves rolled up. He looked casual except for the gleaming black pistol in one hand and the expression of
stark concentration on his face. When he saw her, his intense gaze flickered over her with disbelief, and a second later, darkened with fury.

Rebecca watched him warily, every nerve on edge. She’d given up trying to understand what anyone wanted or suspected, but she didn’t doubt that this man was no less an enemy than the men who’d kidnapped her.

“Playing both sides can get you in serious trouble,” he said sternly, but the puzzlement in his eyes softened the taunt. He came to her in two long, graceful strides and knelt in front of her. Other men were running down the hall after her abductors.

“You did this,” she accused, her voice shaking with fury. “You did this to me.”

“No.”

“You said you would.”

“I didn’t do this.” He tucked the gun under his belt and leaned half across her, angling his body so he could reach around her. She was engulfed in the curve of his body, as if he were hugging her. She turned her head to escape looking at him. His cheek was close to hers. His scent was warm and sweaty. The cool Mr. Santelli had actually gone to the trouble of exerting himself to find her. For what reason?

His hands closed over the tape that bound her wrists. He ripped it with a strength that made her jump. “Sorry,” he said brusquely, working at the tape. “Are you hurt?”

“What kind of charade is this?” She gulped for breath and to keep from crying in sheer frustration. “You order two cavemen to maul me, then you show up for some kind of rescue.”

“Dammit, that isn’t how I operate, Ms. Brown.” He leaned back after he’d freed her hands. Bringing them around to her lap, he rubbed the irritated skin on her wrists while he frowned at her harshly. “Believe me, I didn’t order anyone to kidnap you.”

“Then how did you know I was here?”

“I had you followed. Lucky for you.”

“Why should I believe you?” She jerked her hands away.

He licked his forefinger and reached forward. Before she could pull back, she felt his wet fingertip stroking a spot on the side of her neck. It stung, but the moisture was soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said gruffly. Either there was true concern in his voice, or her hearing aid was acting up. She blamed the hearing aid.

“They stole my necklace.” Rebecca looked hard into his eyes, while surprise grew inside her. Despite her anger, she was starting to feel relieved. Safe. Rescued. By him. The dragon who had hinted that he’d do something as terrible as this to her if she stayed in Thailand. So why was he gently smoothing his finger over her scraped skin?

“They’re not working for me,” he said grimly. He sat back on his heels and began unfastening the rope around her ankles. “Or for the Vatan family.”

“Nothing makes any sense. They accused
me
of being part of the Vatan family!”

He went still. His eyes searched hers. “You’re making enemies you didn’t expect to make. Perhaps if you tell me the truth about your reasons for being here, I could help you discover why those men wanted you.”

“I’ve told you the truth!” As he freed her feet, she pushed herself back on the dirty mattress and glared at him bitterly. “Just leave me alone.”

“If I granted that wish, you’d be worse off than you know. Think what might have happened to you tonight if I hadn’t had someone following you.”

She looked down at herself and the gaping bodice of her dress. The knife had sliced her slip as well. Her breasts, small but full, strained against the exposed cups of her bra. “Are you injured there?” Santelli asked bluntly. Before she realized what he intended, he reached over and spread the cut material with his
fingers, brushing the inside curves of her breasts above the bra. He studied them with poker-faced calm, his dark gaze moving slowly.

His scrutiny burned her as much as the touch of his fingers had. Grinding her teeth in confusion over his tenderness, Rebecca grabbed his large hands and pushed them away. “Maybe I ought to scream for the Sleaze Brothers to come back. At least they didn’t hide their nastier impulses behind a gallant show.”

Santelli’s eyes rose to hers. The cold warning in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “You know far more about hiding ugly impulses than I do, Ms. Brown. I’ve told you nothing but facts. You’ve told me nothing but an outrageous story about being my client’s half sister. You may be nothing but a bald-faced con artist hoping to worm your way into a wealthy Thai family.”

“Mr. Santelli, get away from me and get out of this room. I’d rather talk to the crummiest customer in this brothel than continue this conversation with you.”

He made his voice sound prim. “Gee, lady, the last time I heard someone described as ‘crummy,’ I was no more than twelve years old and watching an episode of
Leave It to Beaver
.”

She felt her face begin to burn with embarrassment as well as anger. “I don’t have to describe a pig wallow in pig language.”

“I suppose that’s my cue to oink.”

“It’s your cue to leave. I’ll take care of myself now. I don’t need you or your attitude toward me. I’m not accustomed to men who think I’m capable of immoral and even criminal intentions. I won’t put up with it. When you find out how wrong you are about me, I hope you’re ashamed of yourself for accusing me.
Get out
.”