rescue was being attempted. And what that would have meant for Alana Richardson didn’t bear thinking about.
Alana Richardson. A tiny slip of a thing, really. Not even as tall as his sister, Mei-li, who wasn’t all that tall, either. But that wasn’t really relevant. No, what really mattered was how she’d handled herself during the rescue. Despite being bound, gagged and blindfolded, she’d been instantly alert when he’d awakened her. And she hadn’t questioned his orders. Hadn’t insisted on any kind of explanation. She’d just done what he’d told her to do...instantaneously.
He laughed softly. It wasn’t blind obedience he’d been hoping for; it was a woman smart enough to instantly grasp that explanations could wait for a more opportune time. Who could make split-second decisions the way he did, and follow through on them. And Alana Richardson fit that description the way she’d fit into his arms. Perfectly.
He sat up abruptly, muttering, “Hold on a minute.” Where the hell had that thought come from?
You shouldn’t even be thinking about how good she felt in your arms, he chastised himself. And you damn well shouldn’t have been aroused when she wrapped her legs around you and held on tight.
It did absolutely no good telling himself what he should have done...because it was too late for that. He had been aroused. Painfully aroused. And now that his mind had gone down that path, it was impossible not to remember slight breasts pressed firmly up against his chest. Impossible not to remember thighs clinging to his hips with unexpected strength. Impossible not to imagine those same thighs holding on tight as he rode her soft and slow and—
His smartphone dinged for an incoming text, an interruption he both blessed and cursed. He swiped a finger over the touchpad and saw it was from his sister.
Thnx, he read. Knew I could count on you. Call me?
He frowned. It was way past midnight, and his sister should be sleeping. But she knows you well enough, he reminded himself. She knows you’re not sleeping.
He pressed speed dial, and when the phone was answered, surprised himself when the first words out of his mouth were, “How is she?”
“Recovering,” Mei-li said. “The police were here. Dirk insisted we file a police report immediately, even though Alana had already been through a lot for one day. And it’s a good thing we did report it, because someone tipped off the police there was an abduction and rescue.” The emphasis on someone conveyed his sister knew exactly who that was, even though she wasn’t saying. “But the police are gone now. Finally. They took scrapings from beneath Alana’s fingernails for DNA analysis—apparently she scratched one of the men, and it looks as if she drew blood.”
He heard the unspoken approval in her voice. “They wanted Alana to go down to the police station to look through some mug shots,” she continued. “But she told them she really didn’t see her abductors’ faces. All three men were wearing full head masks. Black. Balaclavas, I’d bet, by her description.”
She paused for a moment, but Jason didn’t say anything. “After the police left, Dirk and I took her to hospital, over her vehement objections.”
“And?”
“And she’s fine, just as she insisted. A little nausea, but that’s a normal aftereffect of the chloroform they used on her. And she’s still feeling a little shaky from the blow she took.”
“What?”
“She fought them, remember? She said she tried to hold her breath when they placed the cloth over her face, but then one of the men struck her with something and that’s when she lost consciousness.”
Jason’s admiration for Alana rose, and her perfect response during the rescue tonight took on even more luster. If she was still shaky after all this time, that meant she had to have been still suffering from her head injury when he’d woken her and carried her out of the apartment. But she hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t complained.
“They took X-rays, just as a precaution, but no fractures. No subdural hematoma, either. And based on her responses to the doctor’s questions, he wasn’t worried about a concussion. He prescribed rest and lots of it.”
“Which she’s getting now?”
“Yes. For all her protestations that she was fine, Alana fell asleep in the car on the way home. Dirk had to carry her to her bedroom. I don’t think she even knows I tucked her in, so I’ll make an educated guess and say she’s still sound asleep.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Same for me.” Her voice, normally so light and musical, took on a slight strain. “I can never forget—”
“Sean,” he finished for her. His tone roughened. “Neither can I.”
“I know.” Mei-li sighed in his ear. “What did the triads say when you interrogated them?”
“Nothing. They must have gone to check on Miss Richardson shortly after I got her out of there, because by the time my team and I were able to storm the apartment, those men were long gone.”
“Damn!” That wasn’t quite the word Jason had used at the time, but his sister didn’t curse often. A damn from her was equivalent to cursing a blue streak. “At least Alana’s safe. Which means this one goes in the win column anyway.”
They were silent for a few moments, both remembering a day more than twelve years ago and an abduction that had gone heartbreakingly wrong.
“Thank God you had the GPS coordinates of where she was being held,” Jason said, finally breaking the painful silence. “We couldn’t have rescued her without that.”
“Yes, thank God, but also thank Dirk...and you,” Mei-li said, and Jason knew she was referring to the high-tech electronic transmitter. Beacon, actually, but it only transmitted if it was manually set off or activated remotely from the parent server. Highly secret equipment not yet available to the general public, the prototype of which Jason had designed and had his company produce at his brother-in-law’s request. Alana had carried one on her keychain, although she hadn’t known it.
“Don’t forget to give yourself credit for quick thinking while you’re handing out praise,” he said drily. “I’m not sure what that triad gang was waiting for—the cover of darkness, probably. But if you hadn’t mobilized RMM right away...”
“All I did was—”
“—text Miss Richardson when she didn’t come home for dinner the way she said she would. And when you got no response, you called her cell phone. And when she didn’t answer, you activated the beacon.”
“Well, it made no sense to me,” Mei-li explained. “I knew she was going to Mong Kok, but when I activated the transmitter and mapped the location, I knew something bad was going down. She had no business being in that neighborhood—both Dirk and I had warned her where not to go by herself. And there was no ransom demand. If it wasn’t a kidnapping, I knew it was outside my area of expertise. So I called you.” Then she asked, “How did you know which apartment she was being held in?”
“Clutter...that wasn’t there.”
“An empty balcony,” his sister said softly. “Of course.” Admiration was evident in her voice, and he knew she’d made the connection without him having to spell it out. Space was at such a premium in Hong Kong, the vast majority of balconies weren’t used to take the air, but to store things that wouldn’t fit in Hong Kong’s tiny apartments. In addition to that, almost no one dried their clothes in a dryer, even if they had a washing machine in their unit. Even the residents of high-end apartments and condos hung their clothes to dry on their balconies. When you were looking for the slightest aberration, an empty balcony stood out like a red flag for RMM.
“So what did Miss Richardson tell the police?”
His