White Ginger (22 page)

Bai retreated to the breakfast bar to take a seat next to Lee. Dan joined them as they watched Elizabeth expertly slice the sausages, along with some green onion. She then shredded cheddar cheese before pouring oil into the wok and setting it on the stove over a blue flame.

First, the julienned sausages were dumped into hot oil to sizzle and brown. Then, in went a dozen eggs and the green onions as Elizabeth whipped at the concoction until the scramble was fluffy. Last to go in was the cheddar to let it melt without burning. She portioned the contents into three bowls and set them on the bar with chopsticks.

“No rice?” Bai asked.

“You're pushing your luck,” Elizabeth said, trying hard to hide a grin.

Bai turned to Dan, who seemed unusually quiet. “Are you all right?”

“I'm just thinking. It's OK to think, isn't it?”

The reply seemed a little testy. Her child wore a frown. It didn't take a mother's intuition to know something was wrong.

“I'm just not used to your being quiet,” Bai observed.

Dan turned to look at her mother. “‘Outside noisy, inside empty.'”

Bai nodded in understanding. It was a familiar proverb that had been hammered into Bai's head as a child. Her grandfather had shown little tolerance for noise. “So, there isn't anything bothering you?”

Dan continued to stare at her bowl and play with her chopsticks. When she spoke, her voice was hesitant. “Will I have to share my room?”

“Would that be so terrible?”

Dan thought about the question, her face drawn into a frown. “I guess not,” she offered. “I don't really know. I've never shared a room.”

“Well, let me put your mind at ease.” Bai kept her voice soft. “If we decide it's a good idea for Jia to come stay with us, we'll turn my office into a bedroom. I never use the office anyway. Everything I need is on my laptop.”

Dan nodded and looked up at her mother. “I don't think I'd really mind sharing a room.”

“I know, sweetie, but you don't have to worry about it. A girl needs her space. I'd guess Jia feels the same way.”

Her words seemed to cheer Dan. A smile worked its way back onto the girl's face as she picked distractedly at the scrambled eggs.

Having averted a family crisis, Bai turned her attention back to her breakfast. The eggs were fluffy and light, the sausage sweet with just enough green onion to delude one's self that the dish was healthy. She shoveled eggs, while Elizabeth poured mugs of hot green tea and put a cold glass of milk in front of Dan.

All too soon, Bai's cell phone rang. Tommy waited downstairs.

Lee carried bags as everyone crowded into the elevator. Bai felt sad to see her family leave. She missed them already.

“You two be sure to let me know if you need anything. I'm only a phone call away,” she advised.

Elizabeth brushed aside her offer. “We'll be fine. Vancouver's a big city. If we've forgotten anything, we know how to find a store. Don't we, Dan?”

“Sure,
Mah Mah
, and Jason's going to be there, isn't he?”

Elizabeth glanced at Bai with a stern look of disapproval.

Bai kept her response light. “He might be there, Dan, but I'm not sure you'll see him. He's there on business.”

As they stepped out of the elevator and down the stairs to the sidewalk, four men in black suits flanked the limousine. They gazed away from the vehicle with hands held inside open jackets to conceal drawn weapons. Black SUVs blocked traffic at both ends of the street.

Elizabeth took note of the security measures and stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at Bai with fire in her eyes, and Bai knew there would be hell to pay when Elizabeth got her alone. She took comfort in the thought that the occasion wouldn't present itself anytime soon.

She smiled stiffly at Elizabeth and forged ahead. She held Dan's hand firmly. If Elizabeth wanted to berate her she'd be forced to follow Bai to the waiting car.

Tommy stepped out of the limousine to intercept Elizabeth.

“So good to see you both,” he said as he put his hand out to take Elizabeth's arm while pulling Dan in for a hug. “What a treat,” he said, “to travel with two such beautiful women.”

Tommy was a charmer. He gathered Elizabeth up and guided them both into the car. “Sorry to rush you,” he said, as he stepped into the car, “but we're running a little late.”

He winked at Bai before closing the door. She owed him another one. Bai put her hand on the window as the car pulled away from the curb. Then she and Lee turned to walk quickly back inside.

“Now to business,” she said as she punched the elevator button for the third floor.

 

Once inside the apartment, Lee turned to Bai. “Do you want to tell me what went down in Vancouver?”

Bai held up a finger to silence him and then went into the living room to turn on the stereo. She cranked up the volume on the Rolling Stones to drown out their conversation. As Mick refused to be a “beast of burden,” she explained how she'd managed to kill two people—one in self-defense, the other in a fit of rage.

When she'd finished, he stared at her. His mouth hung open as if he'd been hit with a stun gun. It took him a while to react. “Are you all right?”

She shrugged and let out a deep breath. “I'm not really sure. I cried like a baby after killing the woman. After I killed Shan, I didn't feel anything. I was just empty. It was like all of my anger, all of my feelings, had been buried with that hatchet.” She put her head down. “No . . . that's a lie.” She looked up at Lee, tears in her eyes, and whispered, “It felt good.”

He smiled at her hesitantly. “Catharsis.”

“What?”

“Catharsis is when someone purges all their emotional tension. The act of throwing that hatchet set you free of all the hate you were harboring. You unburdened yourself, an act that was good for you but, obviously, not all that great for Shan.”

Looking down at her hands, she tried to find a sense of guilt about Shan's death. She couldn't. Her lack of remorse continued to trouble her. She didn't want Jason to be right about killing's being in her blood. Her father had been a killer, as well as his father before him. They were violent men who'd managed to compartmentalize their lives, taking a life then coming home to dinner with the family.

Lee stared at her with concern. “What are you thinking?”

“I won't be like my father or my grandfather. I won't be a killer. It's not what I am.”

She was afraid. It was hard for her to admit, but she was afraid of herself.

He tried to reassure her. “It's not as if you went looking for trouble.”

“That's just it. I did. I went looking for Shan. I wanted to kill him, and I killed him. It wasn't out of fear. I still don't feel guilty. That's wrong, and I know it's wrong.” She looked at him plaintively. “It's . . . just . . . wrong.”

He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders to turn her, so she was facing him. “If I'd been there, I'd have killed Shan. Any decent person would have killed that bastard. You did the world a favor. We should throw a party, except, as twisted as I am, even I know that would be wrong.” He paused to smile. “Wouldn't it?”

His questioning expression made her smile.

He put his hand on her cheek and said, “I think you think too much, but that's what makes you special. ‘Deep doubt, deep wisdom; little doubt, little wisdom.'”

“Is there any occasion in life for which the Chinese don't have a proverb?”

He smiled gently at her. “I haven't found one yet.”

Her phone rang to interrupt their conversation.

She looked at the display. “It's John Race.”

Lee raised his eyebrows as the phone rang again. “Aren't you going to answer it?”

She vacillated before responding. She wasn't sure she wanted more complications in her life. Race, being available, handsome, and interested, represented excellent potential for becoming a complication. Then again, he was handsome.

“Hello.”

“Is this Bai Jiang?”

“Yes.”

Her voice was hesitant, nervous. She cleared her throat while mentally castigating herself for acting like a schoolgirl.

“This is John Race . . . the man you met yesterday at Darryl Hopkins.”

“I remember. What can I do for you, Mr. Race?”

“I'll get right to the point, Miss Jiang. Is your offer of employment still open?”

His voice sounded uncertain. She could almost feel his reluctance. He was asking for a job from a woman he'd shown interest in. She could empathize with his dilemma, and yet she knew almost nothing about him other than that he was boyishly handsome and disarmingly direct.

“Let's meet to talk about it, Mr. Race. Are you available for lunch?”

He quickly grasped at the opportunity. “That would be fine.”

She smiled into the phone at his eagerness. “I'll make the reservations for twelve o'clock at Boulevard Restaurant.”

“Twelve o'clock at the Boulevard. That's over on Mission, isn't it?”

“Yes, the corner of Mission and Steuart. You can't miss it.”

“I'll see you there at noon. Thanks.”

“Don't thank me yet, Mr. Race. Let's wait and see how we get along. Oh . . . and bring your resume if you have one available.”

His voice sounded more confident. “I have one with me, Miss Jiang. That's not a problem.”

Bai ended the call and looked up.

Lee stared at her with folded arms and tight lips. “Do you think he can be trusted?”

“I'm not sure. I guess we'll find out. I'd like to see what his background is before I turn him down. We may need more security, especially for Dan, at least until we can find out why someone wants me dead. Regardless, you'll get a chance to grill him. You're joining us for lunch.”

She picked up her cup to sip the hot tea while she thought about Race. He seemed competent and had demonstrated integrity when he'd defended her daughter. She remembered he had combat experience, which suggested he knew how to take care of himself. She also remembered he had the most amazing blue eyes.

Bai reached into her safe and grabbed her automatic weapon by its pebbled grip. The nine-millimeter smelled of gun oil. She sniffed and frowned. She didn't like carrying a gun. Under the circumstances, she couldn't justify not carrying one.

She'd showered and changed her clothes. Her form-fitting leather jacket was replaced by a black leather blazer to accommodate the gun. Her flats had been abandoned for more practical leather trainers, in case she needed to run for her life.

The gun slipped into the holster tucked into the small of her back. More modestly sized than a regular Beretta, the Compact fit her hand while still carrying thirteen bullets in the clip and one in the chamber. Her proficiency with a gun was such that fourteen bullets were superfluous—just because she didn't like guns didn't mean she didn't know how to use one.

Lee waited for her in the living room where he surfed the web on his phone. “I have something to show you.”

She stepped around the couch to look over his shoulder.

“It's John Romano,” he explained. “He's giving a speech. I thought you might want to see who he is since you're almost certain to meet with him over the incident with his son.”

John Romano had perfectly styled, dark wavy hair and a barrel chest. His complexion suggested he spent too much time in a tanning booth. A strong chin and a straight nose rested beneath heavily lidded eyes topped by a unibrow. He appeared formidable.

“Turn up the sound. I want to hear what he's saying,” Bai said.

When Lee punched up the volume, she instantly recognized the voice. “Son of a bitch!” Her temper flared as she reached for her cell phone and flipped to the voice messages. “Listen to this.”

She played the obscenity-laced message for Lee. The two voices were identical. He turned his phone down to listen to Bai's message. When the voice mail ended, Lee's expression was grim.