Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (21 page)

Mother!

“What are you doing here?” Jin demanded.

“I am Dr. Li—”

“I did not ask your name,” he hissed at the doctor. “I asked what you are doing here?”

“Please, Mr. Meng-Li,” the nurse said, waddling forward. “I called him. Your mother is not well.”

“I know she is not well.” He shot fiery daggers at her with his eyes. “That is why I hired you!”

“Forgive me, but your mother needed a doctor. She needed more than I could do.”

“Then
what
use are you? Get out!” Jin cursed himself for not having Kiew with him. He needed her, needed her calming touch.

“Sir,” Dr. Liang said quietly. “Mrs. Chen is a fine nurse, but she is right. Your mother needed to be seen by a doctor. I was happy to come—at no charge, of course—to see to your mother’s needs. Your father and I were friends long ago, and it is an honor to help your family. I’ve prescribed stronger pain medication, and now, your mother is resting comfortably.” Then his round, muddy eyes pinched together. “But I will not lie, Jin. She is not well. Her time is short. I would advise you to prepare—”

“I do not need your pity, Doctor.” Jin’s heart rate doubled. “Thank you for your help. Cao will see you out.”

Though Jin stared down the long, gilt hall to his mother’s quarters, in his periphery he saw the servant silently materialize from the side room without a word. Dr. Liang inclined his head and started for the door.

Nurse Cheng leaned forward. “I—”

“Leave us,” he said as he entered his mother’s room. Closed the door and stood, taking in the setting. The stench of death, a stale mixture of oxygen, antiseptic, and… some other odor he could not isolate.

Draped in the dim, golden light of the lamps on either side of the bed, the room lay in somber repose. As if it, too, anticipated her death. But no—he would not surrender her yet. She must stay. He went to her, brushing aside the curtain.

Frail and small in the oversized bed, she lay unmoving. Barely breathing. Coarse hair washed free of its once-luxurious ebony color and silken feel lay in a halo around her pale face. So much paler than normal.

His gaze fell on the photo framed on the nightstand of her and his father in their youth. Before Jin had been born. When dreams were simmering and hopes were high. When grief had not touched his father’s dynasty. Or gouged a hollow line through his mother’s heart. When they were young and believed in the goodness of others, in the brightness of their future.

If only they had known what darkness awaited. Would they have still journeyed so bravely? Could he ever rise to meet their legacy and create one of his own?

He would. He had. And though some stood in his path, he would level that opposition. His father’s dreams would become reality. His mother would be honored.

He leaned against the plush mattress.
“Māma.”

“Jin,” she wheezed out, her eyes fluttering but not fully opening.

“Here.” He cupped her parchment-like hands and pressed his lips to their feather-softness. “I am here.”

A whisper of a smile flitted across her lips as another wheeze dragged breath from her lungs. She went deathly still.

“Stay, Mother.” He glanced at her chest, searching for the sign that she was yet alive. “Don’t leave yet. It is almost done. Just a little longer, and it will be real. Father’s dream. Your dream. It will be real. I’m making it happen. You will see. And be proud.”

“Proud,” she moaned. Swiped her tongue over her lips, the sound like sandpaper. “Yes.” Her fingers twitched in his, and though her chest continued to rise and fall, she was no longer alert.

“I promise, Māma.”

His phone buzzed against his hip, and he silently cursed the device and whoever interrupted these precious moments. The incessant vibration did not ease up.

Grinding his teeth, he laid her hand across her stomach. Then bent over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before turning and making his way to the window. He did not want to leave. Did not want to allow the intrusion of servants and anyone else into his mind right now. Did not want to take this phone call. But as the light glared bright in the somber room, he registered the name.

He pushed open the glass french doors and stepped onto the balcony as he accepted the call. “Has she made any calls?”

“Yes. One. To the American soldier as you said she would.”

The knot in Jin’s chest tightened as the lights of Shanghai twinkled at him in the haze of the gloomy night. Wind tugged at his shirt and hair, taunting him. Mocking him. “And what did she say?”

“She told her to leave her alone.”

The knot loosened. He allowed himself to breathe. The cool rail beneath his palm soothed the heat that had moments earlier exploded through him. “What else?” Could it be that she was faithful after all? That her heart had not been corrupted? He wanted her, for himself. Completely. He must know her loyalties were not divided.

“Nothing. She hung up when the American tried to dissuade her.”

Triumph lifted Jin’s chin. He looked over the city he ruled, over the lives and empires he had toppled and owned. “Good. Watch her. If she does anything that would make you question her loyalty, contact me immediately. I want to know everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Nianzu.”

“Yes?”

“If that American whore shows up again, kill her.”

CHAPTER 17

Kabul, Afghanistan
1 April—0825 Hours

L
etting go had never been her forte. That would be why Cassie left Kandahar Airfield bright and early. Too many hours spent regretting her mother’s lack of action pushed her into the government vehicle and onto the hours-long trip to Kabul. More specifically, to Takkar Towers.

She would hear from Kiew’s own lips and look into her eyes before believing her friend wanted her out of the picture. Before turning her back and a few days later hearing of Kiew’s mysterious death.

Okay, that might be the result of an overactive imagination, but then again, wasn’t real life more unbelievable than fiction?

Cassie parked in the garage, a three-level structure crammed into the heart of the city, a cement giant towering over crumbling plaster buildings and dirty streets. Even Takkar Towers struck a dichotomous pose with its gleaming metal and glass over the smudged cityscape.

She tugged back the glass door to the building, noting the thickness and wondering if it was bulletproof. In a land plagued with violence and terrorism, it’d make sense for Takkar to take measures to protect his investment and property. Though guards were posted on the lower level, they were discreet. Not so much that they blended into the marble walls. They made their presence known. Allowed the guests to feel another measure of safety to conduct business. For Cassie, it meant another layer of security she must bypass.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the fifth-floor button. Her pulse thrummed against her breast as the door closed and the steel contraption lifted. What would wait for her once the doors slid back—a terse dismissal or a relieved friend? Surely Kiew would see that Cassie could bring her into protection. It’d be so much better if she could walk out of here with her friend and return to Kandahar. Then, no involving Sal. No lying to Sal. And she could prove to her superiors that the task they’d assigned her—not on merit, she understood now, but on her connection to this woman—had not been a mistake.

She hadn’t been to the offices before. Nor to Kiew’s private residence, which intel showed to be in this building as well.

The elevator alighted. Swift and silent, the doors eased open. Cassie immediately pegged the three cameras eyeballing the reception area.

Distinctly Asian in style, the foyer held a fountain wall that broke the view of the rest of the offices. A sleek onyx desk with a high facade protected the petite Chinese woman seated and talking into a headset. Had she worn the white paint and defined red lips, she would not have looked more geisha. Except for the severe expression.

Once the receptionist raised her narrow eyes, Cassie angled her walk so she deftly avoided being captured on the cameras. “I’m here to see Ms. Tang.”

“Do you have appointment?”

With a nod toward the phone, Cassie ignored the question. Pretended to answer it without answering. “Cassandra Walker,” she said, eyeing the gray handset. “Tell her I’m here.”

Huffing, the woman’s manicured fingernails clicked on the keypad, though she hadn’t removed her glare from Cassie. “A Cassandra Walker to s—” She flinched. Nodded but said nothing, her gaze now distant. “Of course.”

Anticipating an affirmative response, Cassie stayed poised. Watched the woman’s round face. But she never looked at Cassie again. Didn’t move. She answered another call.

Rude. Just rude.

A door clicked open behind Cassie, and she turned.

Two men in black suits stalked toward her, expressions taut. One had slicked-back hair and stood an inch or two taller than his compatriot. “If you will follow us, please, Ms. Walker.”

Hesitation gripped Cassie tight. “I’m here to see Ms. Tang.”

Both men cuffed her upper arms in steel-like holds and guided her—quite forcefully—toward a side door.

“Hey!” Cassie’s pulse thundered. She knew evasive tactics. A knife-hand strike to the throat would put these guys on their knees. But were they hauling her to a dungeon? Escorting her to Kiew? Or throwing her out on her backside? “Release me!”

“You must leave,” the shorter one said around a thickly accented voice.

After jerking free, Cassie tugged her shirt straight and squared her shoulders. “I’m here to see—”

“Nobody here will see you,” Slick Hair bit out as he crowded her into a stairwell. “I believe you were given that message already.”

Cassie felt the cold threat run down her spine. She lifted her chin. “I will leave on my own, thank you.”

“We will assure your safe exit from the building.”

I just bet you will
.

But she held up a hand. “I am an officer in the United States Army. I will not be treated like a prisoner by a Chinese national.” She gave a nod. “Thank you for your time and courtesy, gentlemen.”

Cassie took the stairs quickly down the five flights, her calves aching with adrenaline and the quick workout. She reached the first floor and slipped into the lobby, not surprised to find two more security guards within a half-dozen feet, hands on weapons, eyes alert—and staring right at her. With a sigh, Cassie hoisted her shoulder and chin then proceeded toward the front.

Sun glinted off the glass as she pushed through the doors, blinding her for a second. Cassie pivoted and headed toward the garage. Her shoes clacked with an annoying echo in the cement structure as she hurried to her car. Awareness of something… off… tickled the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder.

A dark blur rushed her.

Slammed her into the car. Grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and rammed her face into the side of the vehicle.

Pain exploded across her temple. Her vision danced. Though panic drenched her muscles, Cassie knew this was life or death. If she went weak, she’d die. Fighting fear, she reminded herself she was trained for this. Trained to defend. Trained to kill.

She fisted her hand and plowed her elbow into the man’s abdomen. He grunted but remained powerful and strong. He threw her into the car again.

This time, his grip loosened a fraction.

Cassie seized the chance and bent, whirled down and under his arm, severing his hold. Again, she thrust her other elbow into his side, aiming for that sweet spot.

And missed.

She straightened and this time drove her elbow into his face.

He angled away, giving her the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him.

But fast as lightning, he flipped her. She landed hard on her back, her head smacking and bouncing against the cement. Stars sprinkled her vision. She blinked and found him lunging at her—with a knife!

Even as the blade came near, her hands went up. With one she nailed his wrist. With the other, she slapped the blade. It tumbled to the ground and clattered away. The stealth of the move startled—and angered—her Asian attacker.

He narrowed his eyes, determination glinting. Almost as if he’d expected her to steal his weapon, he lunged seamlessly and tightened both hands around her neck.

Air deprivation seized her with panic. She didn’t want to die. She choked, the crushing force against her esophagus thumping against her temples.

Knife!

Cassie raised her right arm and swung it up and over his arms. Simultaneously, she rolled to the side, deliberately upending him. Breaking his grip on her throat. He collapsed on her, punching her face. She used a leg as an anchor and twisted, effectively reversing their positions. With a hard right, she broke his nose. Repeated. Blood spurted.

With a hard punch, he sent her spiraling backward. Her head connected again with the car.

He loomed over her.

A gun fired.

Cassie sucked in a breath. Expecting to feel her life bleeding out of her. Instead the attacker stumbled. Glanced to the side, then sprinted away. Footsteps pounded after him then slowed.