Читать книгу Rescued By The Billionaire Ceo - Amelia Autin - Страница 13

Chapter 4

“I really can’t tell you anything more about the men who grabbed me,” Alana was saying when Jason approached the family room. “I wish I could.” From her voice Jason could tell she was practically in tears. “Especially now that another woman—” She broke off abruptly, then continued. “But they were wearing masks that completely covered their heads and faces except for their eyes. Then I was unconscious when they transported me to...wherever. I already told you they were speaking Cantonese when I could hear them, but they kept me blindfolded the entire time. I have no idea what they look like or where they were holding me, or anything.”

Both policemen turned when Jason and Mei-li walked into the room, and his sister quickly said, “You know Detective Inspector Lam, of course, of the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau. And this is Sergeant Wo of the same unit. Sergeant, this is my brother, Jason Moore. We were expecting him for dinner.” She turned to Alana and added smoothly, with almost no hesitation, “And this is Alana Richardson, Dirk’s executive assistant. She was abducted last Sunday and miraculously rescued. I told you about it, remember? The police are here trying to learn what they can.”

“Unnecessary to introduce me to either gentleman,” Jason said. He shook hands with the two policemen, addressing them formally. “Detective Inspector. Sergeant. Good to see you again, although not under these circumstances.” Then he turned to Alana, who had risen to greet him when the policemen did, and took her hand. “Miss Richardson. Glad to make your acquaintance. I was very sorry to hear from Mei-li what you had to go through, but needless to say I’m happy you suffered no permanent injury.”

Alana’s eyes widened as he spoke, and Jason cursed internally. Although he allowed nothing but polite interest to reflect in his expression, he realized she’d made the connection. She knew who he was. There was no way she recognized his face, so it had to be his voice.

She didn’t blurt it out, however, and Jason gave her bonus points for quick thinking and effective dissimulation. “I’m glad to meet you, too, Mr. Moore. Your sister has told me a lot about you. And Linden and Laurel are full of their ‘Unca Jason,’” she said. “You’re quite a favorite with them.”

Jason let himself smile in response. “And they’re quite the favorites with me, too.” Then he glanced at the policemen. “But don’t let me interrupt. You were in the middle of an interrogation, yes?”

“Not an interrogation,” the detective inspector was quick to point out, his face impassive. “Miss Richardson is a victim, not a suspect. But we were hoping she could shed some light on the men who abducted her.” His dark eyes met Jason’s. “Or on her miraculous rescue,” he added drily. “We received an anonymous tip the night she was rescued.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “And we did a thorough forensics analysis of the crime scene. DNA results on the man she scratched aren’t back yet, so if we knew who rescued her and how she was located, that could yield important information.”

When Jason’s expression betokened nothing but bland interest, the detective inspector went on. “We have reason to believe Miss Richardson’s abduction is related to a string of similar ones, most recently one that occurred yesterday.”

“That is unfortunate,” Jason agreed. Not by the tiniest flicker did he let on he knew anything more than he’d just been told. But his mind was working feverishly. He couldn’t reveal he knew exactly where Alana had been held or how she’d been tracked to that apartment. Nor could he reveal how she’d been rescued, not without putting himself and his men in an untenable position. Not without putting RMM itself at risk.

“What ties them all together?” To Jason’s surprise, it wasn’t his sister asking the question; it was Alana.

The two policemen exchanged glances, then the detective inspector said, “The MO, for one thing—modus operandi. We’re not at liberty to discuss anything more than that, Miss Richardson. Suffice it to say we have overwhelming evidence they are connected.”

Which made Jason wonder if the crime scene had yielded any clues. He hadn’t followed up on the police investigation the way he usually did, and he wondered about that, as well. Was it because he was trying not to be too involved? Because of the attraction he felt toward Alana that he didn’t want to feel? If so, it was a mistake, because now another woman had been abducted, and RMM needed to add that to its own investigation.

No one spoke for the space of five heartbeats, then the detective inspector said to Mei-li, “We should be going.” He turned to Alana. “You have my card, Miss Richardson. If you remember something—anything—please don’t hesitate to call that number. If I’m not there, you can leave a message with the desk sergeant.”

Mei-li walked the policemen out, but Jason stayed where he was. He glanced at Alana, noting she looked much better than the last time he’d seen her, her tear-stained face pale in the moonlight. But one thing hadn’t changed at all...he was still attracted to her. And that disconcerted him.

He was even more disconcerted when she said softly, “You look different from how I remember you.” He raised a questioning eyebrow as if he had no idea what she was talking about, but she wasn’t fooled. “Oh, don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I have no intention of revealing who you are to anyone, especially the police. Mei-li wouldn’t tell me anything about you, not even your first name. Not surprising, now that I know you’re her brother. But she did say sometimes RMM breaks the law.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“That you broke the law...for the right reasons? That you did whatever you had to do to rescue me?” Her oddly colored eyes—almost amethyst, really—glowed with an inner fire, holding his gaze. “What do you think, Mr. Moore?”

He smiled faintly. “Jason, please. And I think perhaps you’re romanticizing what happened.”

She shook her head. “I may be idealistic, but I’m not naive. Tell me that if the men who abducted me had come into the room you would have escaped without me. Tell me and I’ll believe you.” When he remained silent, her voice dropped a notch. “You would have done anything to rescue me. Even if it meant killing those men. Even if it meant dying yourself.”

He couldn’t lie. Not about this. “Yes.”

“I knew it. I knew it that night. You have no idea how much that means to me, knowing there are men like you left in this world.”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero, Miss Richardson,” he began.

“Alana, please.”

“Alana,” he acknowledged. “Don’t make me out to be a hero. I—”

“You are. But that’s not the only reason why I’m—” She broke off, warm color tingeing her cheeks.

Mei-li walked back into the room at that moment, saying, “Dirk’s running late, Jason. Later than you. He said not to wait dinner for him, that he’ll—” She stopped short, and he knew his sister had read and correctly interpreted their body language. “I didn’t tell her, Jason, I swear.”

“I know.” He smiled at Mei-li with a touch of ruefulness. “She recognized my voice.”

Her concerned expression morphed into a smile. “Yes, that would tend to give you away.” Then she looked at Alana. “Since you didn’t say anything to the police about it when they were here, does that mean you don’t intend to? Ever?”

“Don’t put her on the spot like that,” Jason began, but Alana broke in.

“Never.” The implacable way in which the one word was uttered was even more revealing than the word itself. “If your brother hadn’t rescued me, I...I’d be in Macau right now. Forced into...” She shook her head slowly, then turned to gaze at Jason, everything she was feeling reflected on her face. The horror at what could have happened to her. Her fervent gratitude over being spared that fate. “Much as I’d like to help the police find the woman who was abducted yesterday, I don’t think telling them who rescued me will do any good, so your secret is safe with me.”

Jason wanted to make light of his actions, but for some reason he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He didn’t want Alana’s gratitude. Or did he? Last week his ego had been stoked by the idea that Alana saw him as a superhero. Apparently that hadn’t changed. Because the way she was looking at him? He wanted that. The same way he wanted her.

And he knew he was in trouble.

* * *

Verbal conversation at dinner was almost nonexistent between Jason and Alana. Mei-li kept the conversation going by addressing questions to both of them, questions they were forced to answer. But in between their gazes locked on each other, and they communicated without words.

Don’t look at me that way. You know nothing about me, his eyes said.

I know everything important there is to know, hers replied, then added, I could say the same to you about me. You know nothing about me.

His eyes flickered down to her wrists, which still bore the marks of the rope that had bound them—the rope she’d struggled against—then back upward. You’re a fighter. You refused to surrender. And when I showed up you knew not to ask questions right then. That tells me all I need to know.

Even after Dirk arrived, full of apologies for being late, Jason and Alana continued their silent conversation over the curried chicken.

I’m a criminal...in the eyes of the law.

You answer to a higher law.

Jason had believed that about himself since he’d found his true calling the day Sean had been buried, but he’d never thought he’d find a woman who understood. Was it possible? Could Alana understand? Truly understand?

Long before dinner was over Jason knew he wanted to see Alana again. And not just because he was physically drawn to her, although he wouldn’t lie to himself—there was a strong physical element to his attraction. But he also craved an opportunity to talk with her one-on-one, to get to know her as a person. And that was new for him. His previous relationships with women hadn’t prepared him for this at all.

Your own fault, he chastised himself. You gravitated toward women who knew the score. Who were expecting exactly what they got from you...and nothing else. And who gave you exactly what you asked of them...and nothing more.

The thought brought him up short. Had he become so jaded he hadn’t allowed himself to find the woman he’d been searching for all these years? Had he let his money and his complicated childhood become a barrier...and a self-fulfilling prophecy?

And what did that mean where Alana was concerned? Wouldn’t she be better off if he left her the hell alone?

* * *

The Eight Tigers only met as a group a few times a year as a general rule. But the enforcer in charge of prostitution had asked for this special meeting, and the High Tiger had acquiesced...once he knew what the other man had to report.

“We are back on target,” the man boasted to the assemblage. “A new woman has been added to our premier house in Macau.” His eyes took on a lascivious leer. “She is quite a prize—I have sampled her myself.”

The High Tiger ignored the expressions of disgust on the faces of three of his fellow Tigers. Prostitution was not to every man’s taste, especially when women were abducted and forced into one of the Eight Tigers’ illegal brothels. Which was why those men were not in charge of the prostitution arm of their criminal organization.

This was business—an extremely profitable one for the Eight Tigers. It generated nearly as much money as heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and the other illegal drugs they dealt in, which he privately deplored but allowed to continue because the market was too profitable to ignore.

So just as he suppressed his personal dislike of that enterprise for the good of all, so, too, would the men who objected to forced prostitution. They might be personally disgusted, but they would say nothing, do nothing. Nothing at all.

* * *

It was very late by the time Jason left. Alana said her good-nights to the DeWinters and headed for her bedroom, unable to get Jason out of her mind. Also unable to eradicate the terrible disappointment that he hadn’t asked to see her again. She’d given him as much encouragement as she could without being too obvious, and a bubble of excitement had sustained her throughout the evening. Now her bubble had burst, leaving her crushed.

Could she have mistaken the very male intent in his eyes? She didn’t think so. She wasn’t that naive. She’d dated steadily in high school and college, and had already gently turned down three marriage proposals, one of which had caused her a pang because she’d known the man had genuinely cared about her, unlike the other two who’d proposed only because her family’s money and prestige made her a “suitable” bride for someone in their social stratum.

But she’d never found a man whose kiss, whose touch, made her want more. Had never even come close. She’d been so concerned she’d even mentioned it to Juliana. Her cousin had reassuringly dismissed those fears, saying, “Don’t sweat it, honey. It’ll happen, I’m sure. Some women are just a one-man woman. I was. All the men I dated in Hollywood? Zip. Zilch. Zero. But with Andre...” Juliana had laughed softly, suggestively, adding, “When you meet him, you’ll know. Trust me.”

Jason hadn’t kissed her. But he’d touched her a week ago. And just like that, she’d wanted him. As if her body had recognized he was the one she’d been saving herself for...even though she hadn’t consciously been doing it for anyone.

But apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way, despite what she’d thought were their nonverbal exchanges this evening. Had it all been in her mind? Had she imagined the emotional and physical bond that had seemed to spring to life between them?

Alana brushed her teeth, donned her pj’s and slipped into bed, still wondering. Then buried her face against her pillow. “Right, Jules,” she muttered, using her pet name for her absent cousin. “When I meet him I’ll know. Terrific advice. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What then?”

Her smartphone chirped in the stillness.

She scrambled out of bed and rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Alana?” She caught her breath, because only one man said her name that way. Only one man’s voice made her go weak in the knees. She didn’t even need him to say “It’s Jason Moore” to know who was calling her.

She clutched the phone tightly against her ear. “Hi, Jason.” Then couldn’t think of another single, solitary thing to say except, “How did you get my cell phone number?”

He laughed softly, and her nipples tightened until they ached. “I’d better not tell you. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you.”

She let her breath out in a whoosh, and only then realized she’d been holding it. Jason called you, she exulted as she padded back to her bed and slipped beneath the covers. It wasn’t your imagination after all.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. I wasn’t asleep. I was hoping you’d call.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but true enough.

“I debated with myself for the longest time,” he admitted. “My better self said I shouldn’t. But here I am, calling you.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered. Then she focused on what he’d said. “Why would your better self say you shouldn’t? Couldn’t you tell that I...” She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, I’m a nice person. At least I think I am—most people like me.”

His voice deepened. “It’s not you, it’s me.” Then he laughed suddenly. “And isn’t that the stereotypical response when you’re trying to brush someone off? ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?” The humor fled his tone. “But in this case, it’s true. I can think of a hundred reasons why you should avoid me like the plague, and only one reason why you shouldn’t.”

“And that is...?”

He breathed deeply in her ear. “Because a connection exists between us, whether we want it to or not. Physical and emotional.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“You admit it.”

“Yes.”

“Then would you spend the day with me tomorrow? It’s Saturday. Are you free?”

“Yes, I am, and yes, I will. I’d love to.”

There was silence at the other end until he said, “You don’t play games, Alana.” The approving note in his voice wasn’t lost on her.

“No, I don’t play games. But I also don’t...” She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish that statement, but he finished it for her.

“You don’t sleep with a man on the first date.”

Warmth inundated her cheeks, and she couldn’t tell him that not only did she not sleep with a man on the first date, she also hadn’t slept with any man. Ever. But she hadn’t been tempted before. She hadn’t known Jason before. If she had, she wasn’t sure she’d still be a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

Once upon a time that wouldn’t have been an issue. But nowadays it made her an anachronism. And everyone assumed—men and women alike—that she had more experience than she actually did. Men in particular thought a woman who was still a virgin at this age either had to have strong religious beliefs about chastity or wasn’t into men at all. Neither of which was the case for her. She just hadn’t met a man who made her want to sleep with him. Until now.

“You don’t have to worry, Alana. Do I want to sleep with you? Absolutely. But would I pressure you when you’re not ready? Never.”

“I know you wouldn’t. It’s not you, it’s me.” As soon as the words left her mouth she laughed, embarrassment combining with dismay. “Oh, no, did I really say that? What I meant was—”

“Part of you wants to...but you’re not sure.” His deep voice curled through her. “Don’t worry. When you’re ready, and not a moment sooner. You’ll be as safe with me as you want to be.”

Which only raised the question in Alana’s mind...how safe did she want to be?