A Father's Desperate Rescue. Amelia Autin
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I’m going to say.”
One corner of Dirk’s mouth quirked upward in a travesty of a smile. “I think I can manage that. So what are you going to tell me?”
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m the best ransom negotiator in Hong Kong. I’ve never lost a kidnapping victim in all the years I’ve been doing this—not one.” Okay, a couple of times she’d needed an assist, but now wasn’t the time to bring up that detail and go into a long and involved explanation, because that wasn’t her point. “But I’ve never had a case that involved kidnapping for revenge.”
Dirk’s smile faded, replaced by an expression Mei-li had no trouble reading. Desolation. The way a man might look if all hope and light and faith had been extinguished. “You’re withdrawing?”
“Not at all,” she reassured him. “I’m still willing to give it my best shot. But I won’t lie to you—I’ll be relying more on gut instinct than on past experience. If you still want me, knowing that...”
He didn’t hesitate. “I want you on the case.”
“Then I’m in, a hundred percent.”
He frowned suddenly. “Is that what you’re going to say in front of Vanessa and Chet? That you don’t have any experience in cases like this?”
She nodded. “If they’re involved, the more I downplay my credentials, the less likely they’ll worry about what I might uncover. The less worried they are about me, the more likely they’ll let something slip...assuming there is something for them to let slip. See what I mean?”
Dirk’s eyes warmed with admiration. “Damn, you’re good.”
Suddenly there was something more in his eyes, his face, something Mei-li responded to instinctively, and all at once she could hardly breathe. It was crazy—she never got involved with a client. Never. But this man was different, somehow. And the admiring way he was looking at her now contrasted markedly with the way he’d looked at her in the jazz club when she’d first met him two weeks ago. Tearing her eyes away from his eyes now was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Hardest. Thing. Ever.
* * *
They slept—if you could really call it sleeping—with hundreds of other guests in the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel. All the chairs were taken when the five of them finally made their way downstairs from the restaurant. So they selected a corner of the spacious, high-ceilinged lobby and settled down to try to sleep as best they could, given the uncomfortable marble floor and the storm outside. Mei-li shared a pillow and blanket with her cousin Patrick. Vanessa, she noticed with curiosity, shared one with Chet. And though the two of them tried to hide it, it was obvious to anyone who really looked that it wasn’t the first time.
Hmm, she thought, making a mental note for the future, I wonder what that signifies. It could be nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time men and women working in close proximity fell for each other. But it also added credence to her theory that neither Vanessa nor Chet could be trusted...yet. Because if the two were romantically linked, it was highly unlikely Vanessa was involved in the kidnapping without Chet’s knowledge or assistance.
Mei-li turned over, careful not to disturb Patrick, who was already asleep. That’s when she saw Dirk was sitting up, wide-awake, his back pressed against the wall. From time to time he glanced down at his hands, then up again, staring at nothing in particular. She hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but eventually she slipped from beneath the blanket and made her way quietly the few feet to where Dirk sat.
She settled against the wall next to him, and in a voice pitched so low it wouldn’t disturb any of the sleepers, she said, “You really should try to sleep, Dirk.”
The grief-stricken face he turned to her shredded her heart. “I tried.”
She desperately wanted to reassure him that his daughters were safe and sound and would eventually be recovered once the ransom was paid. But they’d both know it was a lie. Dirk didn’t need platitudes, and from the little she knew of him he didn’t want them, either. Only the truth would serve with a man like him. But he didn’t need to hear the unpalatable reality spelled out.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see my little girls,” Dirk continued in a hushed voice. “They look so much like Bree it breaks my heart sometimes.”
“Tell me about her.”
“What’s to tell?” He shrugged as if his wife’s death hadn’t been the defining moment in his life, but she knew differently. Infidelity was rampant in the movie industry, but there were a few notable exceptions—her father was one. And by all accounts Dirk was another. “I loved her,” he said distantly, as if he were talking about another man, not him. “She loved me. She got sick. She died.” His voice roughened. “But she left me Linden and Laurel. She trusted I would take care of them...always.”
“You have. To the best of your ability you have.”
He made a self-derisive sound. “Oh, hell, yeah. So why am I sitting here wondering where the hell they are? Wondering if they’re even—” He broke off, as if by uttering the unimaginable he would make it occur. Then he continued in harsh tones, “I’m such a good father I let my little girls be kidnapped.”
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