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Then there was the kiss this morning. The kiss that had rocked his world. He’d told Mei-li it wasn’t a mistake, and he’d meant it. He’d also told her it wasn’t over, and he’d meant that, too. Or he had at the time. Because he’d never been turned on so hard, so fast with anyone. Ever. Not even with Bree.
But it wasn’t just sex—because he wasn’t that kind of man. He’d laughed with Bree and passed it off as a joke the first time he’d been named “sexiest man alive” by a magazine. And every subsequent time, too. No one but Bree had known just how much of a joke it was—because Bree had been the only woman he’d ever slept with when that moniker had been applied to him. She still was.
* * *
Mei-li and Dirk went into the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre, leaving Rafe with the cab. Dirk had donned his sunglasses again as soon as he exited the car and didn’t remove them when he went inside—he wasn’t taking a chance on being recognized. The BluBlockers covered nearly half his face—the most distinctive part anyway—and he’d learned over the years the sunglasses were a pretty fair disguise.
Dirk soon learned Mei-li had been right—no private planes had taken off that morning. Flight plans had been filed, but the backlog of commercial and cargo planes had put private flights on hold for now.
“What about yesterday afternoon?” he abruptly asked the smiling assistant behind the counter. “Any private planes take off yesterday afternoon?”
Mei-li darted him a look that said, “Please leave this to me.” A folded banknote appeared in her hand, and she placed her hand on the counter, with the note tucked securely...but visibly...beneath it.
The smile faded from the clerk’s face, and he licked his lips nervously. He glanced around, as if to make sure he was unobserved, then keyed a query into his computer. “No,” he said after a minute, his eyes glued to the computer screen. He ran a finger down the screen and counted. “There were five planes scheduled, but none had yet taken off when the control tower shut everything down.”
“Five planes?” Mei-li inquired delicately.
She didn’t have to ask outright—apparently the clerk understood the question she didn’t ask, and Dirk was impressed with how Mei-li managed to look helplessly feminine while at the same time conveying her message that she wanted any and all information the man had on the planes in question. The clerk again glanced around, then hit a key and a slew of papers spewed out of the printer behind him. He retrieved them, then placed them facedown on the counter beneath his hand.
Mei-li’s hand moved to the stack of printouts, leaving the folded banknote behind, and the clerk did the opposite. The money disappeared as if it had never been there. Mei-li folded the packet of paper and tucked it into her purse. Another banknote miraculously appeared in her hand—she seemed to have an endless supply—and she asked, “Where can I find these planes?”
This time, the clerk turned toward the back of the room, to the two doors there, as if reassuring himself both were firmly closed. Then, with his eyes darting back and forth from Mei-li’s face to the money in her hand, he leaned over the counter and answered her question.
“M’goy,” she told the man, leaving the banknote on the counter. “We’re done here,” she murmured to Dirk as she turned and walked out.
“You bribed him,” he said, as soon as the door closed behind them. He glanced over, but the cab was far enough away that they couldn’t be heard.
“I wouldn’t call it a bribe. It’s an old Hong Kong tradition—heung yau.”
“Which means?”
“Literally? It means ‘fragrant grease.’ The Hong Kong version of greasing the wheels. Think of it as a tip.”
She tilted her head to look him straight in the eye. “It’s no different than the police or private investigators in your country paying for information, Dirk,” she said, her voice very quiet but implacable, nevertheless. “We needed that information. Did we have a legal right to it? Probably not. Could the police have obtained the information? Probably...but not as easily as we did. And it would have meant calling in the police, something you’ve already agreed isn’t wise at this stage. So what would you have me do?”
He answered immediately. “Exactly what you did.”
She relaxed her militant stance slightly. “I asked you before, but you never answered. So I’ll ask you again. How far are you willing to go to rescue your daughters?” Her tone took on a fierce note, and there was something in her eyes, her face, that made him think of a mother lioness defending her cubs. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes?”
