The Pearl of Paradise Page 11

  He shook his head, feeling in his pocket for the Pearl/not Pearl that Old Man Wu had carved during the long hours of their wait. Shutting both Lily and his child away, locking them out of his consciousness, he prepared himself for the game to begin.

  “Get out,” his escort spat. “This way,” the man nodded brusquely.

  Hoping Chang had not lost their trail, Damon emerged from the car. He was counting on Lily’s brother to bring both her and Gregory out and get them away, if he were unable to do so.

  Casting his uncertainties away to prevent them from sapping his strength, Damon drew the strength of his spirit around him like armor. The Japanese called it hara, or inner strength, force of spirit. A man of great hara was grounded within himself, a matter to be respected and even feared. Damon knew that his was very strong. He prayed that for the sake of those he loved, it would be enough to save them.

  Within the cocoon of pillows, Lily lay back, her limbs suffused with warmth, with lazy promise, her mind growing less and less able to rouse her to attention.

  Her world had become limited to Kwan’s hands, his eyes. The ebony glow of them slid over her body, his fingers trailing behind. Though within her, a kernel of unrest stirred and tried to give warning, she felt her nipples peak against her will, her skin sigh at the touch. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Damon…”

  The touching ceased at the same moment that the door opened. Arching herself toward the hands that seemed to compel her to want more, Lily moaned slightly, her eyes still closed.

  Across the room, Damon felt seared by flame. His hard-won concentration vanished in the one second he took in Kwan’s hands hovering over Lily’s body, her back bowed as she arched upward, the moan one he’d heard from her only in the act of love.

  Steeling himself to keep all reaction off his face, it took every ounce of his strength not to meet Kwan’s eyes, knowing that his enemy would see there the flash fire of anguish and rage that swept through him, leaving him only bare bones, heart turned to ashes by the sight before him.

  He fixed his gaze on a statue to his left, his inner struggle great. He would not yield to suspicion of Lily, though that was clearly what Kwan had planned.

  Drugged. Kwan must have drugged her with something. Damon had to turn it to his advantage. He had to still the heart roaring within him, shot through with jealous rage. That one instant of seeing Kwan’s hand so near her and Lily’s body pleading for his touch was branded on his skull.

  The senses will tell you lies, Fan Lee had said. Listen to the beat.

  The pulse beneath this scene told him that Kwan would be craftier than he’d ever known him, that this was all calculated to give Kwan the advantage, letting Damon’s emotions overwhelm him.

  He had to lock away everything but the coldest mind he possessed, or there was no hope for Lily at all.

  He raised his gaze to Kwan’s, now able to meet his enemy’s stare with impassivity.

  “Ah, you have come. An inopportune moment, but never mind that. As you can see, your lover is a very sensual woman.” He gestured toward Lily, but Damon refused to follow his direction. His calm teetered on the edge of chaos, and he did not think himself able to look at Lily again and remain sane.

  Damon merely stood there, silent and waiting.

  Kwan shrugged. “No matter. Would you care for tea?”

  Knowing it was a deep insult to refuse to share refreshments, Damon shook his head.

  Kwan’s eyes narrowed. He gestured to a sofa nearby. “Please, have a seat.”

  Damon would have remained where he was, but a sharp fist jabbed in his back. He moved slowly across the room.

  “Has the city changed much during your exile?” Kwan smiled thinly, revealing short, uneven teeth.

  It was not the Eastern way to go directly to the point. Idle subjects must be addressed for some time before making one’s interests known. Even then, only the tip of the iceberg would show; obliqueness was bred into the bone.

  Damon forced himself to patience, knowing from long years spent with not only the Chinese, but Japanese and Koreans as well, that lack of it would do him no good. Enemies often supped and drank with one another, polite civilities being exchanged for hours. It was the mark of a barbarian to rush things, even if the man across from you burned a hole in your gut with the hate you bore him.

  This was a game, and these only the opening moves. No game had ever been more serious. He had already mortally insulted Kwan by refusing the tea, but this situation was a negotiation, above all else. Their mortal feud would be handled, but not until he had Gregory and Lily safely away from Kwan’s control.

  He wished he knew whether Lily could move quickly, or if her reflexes were fatally slowed by the drug.

  And where was his son? He must get Kwan to bring him here.

  Drawing in a steadying breath, he responded. “I see many new buildings since I was last here.”

  Kwan smiled his victory; Damon knew his opponent would have lost face if Damon continued to oppose him so clearly in these opening moves.

  Move. Counter-move. The intricate dance on razor’s edge continued.

  Deep within Lily, her conscious mind struggled to emerge from the blanket muffling her will. Was it really Damon’s voice she heard, or simply her imagination supplying what she wanted so very badly?

  Her body still felt the warm glow through every nerve. An odd detachment split her; her senses seemed to respond as if they belonged to someone else, yet a tiny being buried deep in her mind shouted to be heard, to shock her out of the spell that held her within its grasp.

  Remember Gregory, the voice cried out. You must rouse yourself. Danger!

  Lily’s hand twitched slightly. Still feeling as though it were not a part of her, she nonetheless turned her gaze and stared at it, hoping she could find her way out of the fog swirling through her.

  “Perhaps you would share a small repast?” Kwan asked, dark eyes clear as a lake at midnight.

  The hairs on Damon’s neck rose. Another danger point. Would Kwan debase his victory by administering poison to him? An honorable warrior would not, but Kwan had already breached sacred ground once; poison would be child’s play to such a man.

  Time to escalate the game. “Thank you for your generosity. I must decline.”

  The dark eyes narrowed, and the beast peered out, quickly caged again.

  Kwan glanced at one of his henchmen, and nodded.

  Damon sat very still, every muscle poised for action. The men might be armed, but if his skills held, he would have one chance at Kwan before they could react.

  But he heard the man’s footsteps leave the room.

  Damon wanted to look at Lily, to see her condition and what she was doing now, but he didn’t dare. When the negotiations began, it was vital that he convince Kwan that she meant less than nothing to him.

  Lily moaning his name just as he’d entered the room gave Damon little hope of convincing Kwan that she felt the same.

  The small flicker of triumph in Kwan’s eyes should have warned him. When the door opened, just beyond the corner of Damon’s vision, he was so attuned to the pulse of the room that he felt it before he turned.

  And laid eyes, for the first time, upon his son.

  Chapter Twelve

  A point to Kwan.

  Damon had to fight the biggest battle of his life not to react when shock ran through him, bone-deep, at the sight of his child. Even knowing Lily was watching him with the woman he’d chosen to be caught with five years ago had not been this hard. At the time, every nerve had screamed for him to follow Lily, to tell her it was all a masquerade to drive her away.

  But this… deep within, Damon trembled with the force of his need to run to the child, to scoop him up, to fight legions to ensure his safety.

  It was like looking down a tunnel into the past, looking at Gregory. Lily had been right; no one could mistake that this child was his. The same blue eyes, the same dark hair, features losing baby roundness with his own em
erging… Damon felt a visceral connection to this child, as though something at cell level called to him.

  The old Chinese woman holding Gregory’s hand stood with her head bowed, her posture docile. But his son—Damon wanted to shout out his pride. He could see the tracks of tears on Gregory’s cheeks, could see a tiny trembling of his lips—but those blue eyes blazed with strength and defiance.

  When Gregory’s gaze found him, an electrical current run through Damon. His son’s eyes widened, and Damon could not look away.

  For an endless moment, they connected, and Damon tried to send assurance pulsing Gregory’s way, without revealing the depth of his longing to Kwan.

  “Frightening, the resemblance, is it not?” Kwan’s voice cut through his enchantment.

  Reaching for the silent stillness he would need to defeat this man, Damon did not move. Suddenly, he wanted to live, desperately. He wanted to know his child and for the boy to know him. He wanted to see how he grew, guide him where he could, surround him with all the love he’d never been given himself.

  He would slay dragons, if that’s what it required, to make this child safe.

  Damon turned a lazy gaze toward his adversary. He would not lose. Perhaps he would not walk out of here alive, but a determined flame burned deeper than ever within him. He would not let the child, or his mother, come to harm, no matter what the cost to himself.

  “Perhaps there is some small resemblance,” he shrugged. “It is of no import.”

  Kwan chuckled. “And the woman?”

  “Less so. She was a pleasant diversion, once.”

  Indirect, the Chinese way. It was a sign of the barbarian to head straight to the point, and Kwan nodded his head in acknowledgment that the negotiations had begun. No Chinese ever thought a prize worthy that had not required much haggling to secure.

  Kwan opened his mouth to speak, but Gregory’s cry shrilled through the air, “Aunt Lily!”

  Damon braced himself for chaos to erupt when Gregory shook off the old woman and streaked across the floor, two of Kwan’s henchmen scrambling after him.

  The first cry arrowed past the blanket smothering Lily. She struggled up, recognizing Gregory’s voice in an instant. When he barreled straight into her, knocking her backward, a shot of pure adrenaline surged past the sluggishness that bound her.

  She hugged him close, murmuring soothing sounds in his ear and tightening her arms around him. His sturdy little body shook against her.

  “Hold on, Gregory,” she slurred, angry at her inability to surmount the fog.

  The two men moved closer, and she tightened her arms.

  Her son leaned back, looking at her. “You sound funny, Aunt Lily.”

  Lily pulled him close again, glaring at the two men. She turned slightly, placing her body between them and the child, her gaze distracted by movement across the room.

  “Enough,” Kwan ordered. “You may stand back.”

  Lily watched them retreat, then turned to face her captor. “You drugged me.”

  He shrugged. “It was simpler.”

  She glanced away, still stroking Gregory’s back, cradling his head against her shoulder. Her gaze fell on the man behind Kwan.

  Damon.

  Perhaps her sluggishness wasn’t all bad; it kept her from showing the shock she felt.

  Oh, dear God, was he a prisoner, too?

  She held Gregory closer, damning her brain for not responding more quickly. Her heart sank, knowing Damon was here, surrounded as they were.

  Damn him. She’d been right. He was determined to make himself the sacrificial lamb.

  Anger strengthened her, bringing her a little further out of the torpor that sapped her will. Gregory snuggled closer, and she cradled him in her lap.

  “What’s wrong, Aunt Lily? Who are these people?”

  “A clever woman,” Kwan spoke to Damon. “Even her own child does not know the truth.” He nodded in her direction. “A good tigress, guarding her cub.”

  Lily watched Damon closely, heart racing.

  He shrugged. “She was amusing for a time.”

  Her heart slowed. She wanted to smile, but carefully composed her features. Ever the strategist, Damon had not given up yet. Wei qi had honed his skills. She would stay quiet and see where this led.

  Gregory wiggled. She leaned down and whispered, unsure how much to tell him. “Gregory, we have to be very quiet and still.”

  “I don’t like that man.” He pointed at Kwan.

  Lily grasped his hand and brought it down to her lap. “Sh-h-h, sweetheart.”

  “When are we going to go home, Aunt Lily? I miss my mom and dad.”

  Her aching heart stilled the words in her throat. Finally, when she thought she could pull it off, she responded. “I know you do, but we can’t leave right now.” How did one explain age-old enmity to a young child?

  “Gregory,” she whispered, staring into his eyes, “I need your help. Some of these people are bad, and they want to do us harm. I need for you to do exactly as I say, understand?”

  He nodded, eyes going wider.

  “Do you see that man with the blue eyes?”

  Gregory nodded. “Just like my eyes.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He stared at me.”

  “He’s here to help us, Gregory, but he’s outnumbered. He needs our help, but I don’t exactly know how yet. That’s why I’m asking you to be very quiet and do just as I say, all right? Remember how quiet you have to be, playing hide-and-seek?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, you need to be that quiet now so that we don’t distract him.”

  “Is he strong?”

  “Very. And very brave. We must be brave, too.”

  Gregory tucked his head against her breast and leaned closer, ducking his head. “I’ll try, Aunt Lily. But I want to go home.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” she rocked him gently. “I know.” She struggled to hear what the two men said.

  Kwan leaned closer. “Perhaps the intent of our meeting has changed for you?”

  His face impassive, Damon merely cocked his head to indicate that he was listening. He wanted to drink in the scene across the room, but dared not risk his feelings showing. The one glimpse he’d had of Lily cradling Gregory still reverberated through his heart; it brought back the boy he’d been and that boy’s longing for a mother who’d rather cuddle him than her needles.

  He wanted to gaze his fill of a sight he might never see again, but giving Lily a chance to cradle their child forever took precedence.

  “You have something for me, I believe?” At last, forward progress. Kwan’s voice, so neutral, did not match the dark eyes that barely hid his eagerness.

  Damon nodded toward Lily and Gregory. “After they’re safely away from here.”

  Kwan clucked his tongue. “Such skepticism, Alexander.”

  Damon shrugged and relaxed his muscles. It was paramount that he keep them loose; he might need to react quickly.

  “But you say they mean less than nothing to you.”

  “Your honor means so little?” Knowing full well that Kwan had none.

  Red washed Kwan’s cheeks. “You dare much, Damon.”

  “As did you, five years ago.”

  “But, you see, I already have the Dragon.”

  “And you need the Pearl.”

  “I could have you seized.”

  “But I will reach you before they get to me.”

  Kwan studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “You loh faan have no sense of propriety, no understanding of the truths of this world.” His voice hardened. “You have no business guarding the Pearl.”

  “But I am the Dragon.” Damon saw the tightening around Kwan’s eyes and pressed the point. “You are an outcast with no honor.”

  Kwan hissed a breath through his teeth, and his true rage shot from the dark eyes. His men forgotten, he leaped for Damon’s throat, but Damon was ready for him, knuckles curled to form bladed fingers, coiled and re
ady to strike.

  The air around them crackled, and Damon sensed the men behind them on alert. A small gasp escaped Lily. He cautioned himself to remember that this game had many sides he must protect.

  Then Kwan relaxed slowly, uncoiling by inches. The pressure in the room dropped slightly. Kwan smiled, taking one step back and smoothing his suit jacket, straightening his tie.

  Still intently gazing at Damon, he spoke to his men. “Take the child.”

  “No!” Damon shouted. “Your fight is with me, Kwan. Let them go.”

  “Ah, but you see, your charade played out to an empty theater. Any man who would keep a promise to an old man to guard a relic in which he has no belief, is certainly not going to remain unattached to his own child.” Seeing his man hesitate, he snapped, “Get the child—now.”

  Lily gasped and held Gregory closer, turning her body to shield him. Damon could see, when she stumbled, that she hadn’t shaken off the effects of the drugs.

  “All right, Kwan. You win. Here’s the Pearl.” He reached into his pocket, and Kwan’s men stepped closer. Damon raised his hands. “I don’t have a gun.” Catching Kwan’s gaze, he spoke softly. “Some of us have too much pride to rely on more than ourselves.”

  Kwan’s eyes narrowed, and he waved his men back.

  The man approaching Lily and Gregory hesitated.

  “Call him off, Kwan, or I’ll smash it into pieces.”

  His enemy’s eyes widened. “And risk the curse?”

  Damon shrugged. “I’ve already taken that step by removing it from sacred ground. What will be, will be.”

  “All right,” Kwan nodded sagely. “No one has ever said you have no courage, Alexander.” His gaze hardened, and he held out his hand. “The Pearl, if you please.”

  Damon heard Lily’s sharply indrawn breath but didn’t look her way. Timing was everything, and Kwan noticed far too much. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a soft leather bag, holding it out to Kwan with both hands.

  Kwan took it almost reverently, an unholy glee shining from his eyes. Stepping back one step, he turned toward the lamp nearest him and slowly loosened the ties of the bag.