Counterfeit Love (13 page)

‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’ Lucy glared at Byron from across the terrace.

Byron got to his feet, a thin layer of sweat gathering on his brow. He was tempted to do a running jump into the harbour and take his chances with cholera rather than face Lucy at the moment. He’d been avoiding her texts all day, not sure how to respond to them. He certainly hadn’t expected to see her in person.

‘Lucy, hey. What a coincidence. You wanted to meet up, and … here we are.’ His mind raced through a list of possible explanations for his presence at the yacht club in a
Hound Dog
shirt. The truth not being one of them. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here, either. A little out of your patch, aren’t you? I thought you were on the business desk.’

‘Apparently I can do sport, too,’ she said, walking to the table to join him. ‘So, what’s going on? I thought you were working on a big mining project, and here you are lazing around the yacht club in a sailing shirt.’

Byron sat down again to get away from Lucy’s intense expression. He could feel her brown eyes boring into his face, calmly assessing him. It was slightly unnerving, but unbelievably sexy at the same time. And while he should have been keeping his guard up, all he could think about was holding her tight and kissing her. He nervously glanced at her stilettos, then decided it was safer to just answer the question.

‘So, you really want to know what’s going on?’

Lucy’s face softened slightly as she nodded. ‘I really would. I’m hoping we can be friends, at least. But right now, I feel like you’re not telling me the full story. It’s kind of hard to trust you.’

Byron looked into Lucy’s beautiful eyes. They were beseeching him to tell the truth. He was so tempted to just blurt out everything – to explain why he’d been at the bar, to tell her why the package was so important to him, to share everything he knew about the Cobra. But he just wasn’t sure he could trust her, either. He knew Cal was right. Lucy was a reporter, and if she had a story she was going to use it. He didn’t want it to be like that. But he couldn’t change who she was. And he couldn’t change himself.

‘My boss is one of the owners of
Hound Dog
. He’s a mad keen sailor. He conscripted me for the support crew.’

‘Was he the one I saw in the Art Bar – the guy in the safari suit?’

Byron nodded. ‘That’s him.’

Lucy frowned. ‘But you weren’t sitting together.’

Byron hesitated for a moment. ‘He wanted me there but didn’t want me sitting with him. He’s very secretive – totally eccentric.’

‘Definitely,’ Lucy nodded. ‘So how did I end up with Miss Chan’s shirt?’

‘We’d never met her. That’s why he gave the package to you instead of her.’

‘Miss Chan’s on the yacht? I didn’t even see any women.’

Byron shook his head. ‘She’s in the owners’ syndicate. Strictly a boardroom type – not an outdoors type.’

Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you know that if you’ve never seen her?’

Byron’s heart stopped for a moment as his mind raced for an answer. ‘Well, I did last night. When we gave her the shirt. We were inside, of course.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Lucy nodded.

Byron breathed deeply, feeling tense again, unsure if Lucy was buying the story. ‘I can’t tell you how bad I feel about taking the shirt out of your desk,’ he said eventually. ‘It must have looked terrible.’ He looked Lucy in the eye as he said it. It was the only part of the story that was true; he did feel terrible about what had happened. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘Can I buy you a drink to make it up to you?’

Before she had a chance to answer, Lucy’s mobile went off. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone. ‘Gotta get this,’ she said, getting to her feet.

Byron watched as she paced towards the harbour. She pulled her hair up as she talked, revealing her graceful neck. He felt a desperate urge to sneak up behind her and kiss it.

‘Sorry, have to get back to the office,’ Lucy said as she ended the call.

‘So I’ll see you tonight? The Art Bar at nine?’

Lucy nodded and then gave him a peck on the cheek. She raced away, her heels clip-clopping across the terrace.

Byron stared after her, a sickening combination of dread and elation working its way through his body. He wanted to believe that Lucy had bought his story about the shirt and had forgiven him for screwing things up at her apartment. He hoped that they could put the whole thing behind them when they met at the Art Bar.

Byron desperately wanted things to work out between them, but he knew he was just asking for trouble by seeing her again. She might drag the whole story out of him after a drink or two – or, even worse, she might be ahead of him. She might just be toying with him with her questions. Maybe she knew the answers already. It seemed too much of a coincidence for her to be at the yacht club, when she covered business news. For all he knew, she might know the Cobra’s identity already.

Byron checked the time and then packed up his laptop. There was nothing left for him to do at the yacht club. It was time to get going. He had to face his boss some time.

‘Anything on the Cobra?’ Cal asked, pulling out a stool next to Byron.

‘Nothing,’ Byron replied, probing his finger with a toothpick in the dim light of the dive bar in Wan Chai. He’d called in to visit his parents on the way back from the yacht club and ended up sweeping the graves of his grandparents at a village cemetery in the New Territories. Just how his mother managed to maintain a devotion to the money-worshipping culture of Hong Kong, talk business in Manhattan, fit in on the ski slopes of Whistler and still maintain a strict adherence to the traditions of her Chinese ancestors often fascinated him, but today it annoyed him. He had bigger things to worry about than family obligations.

‘I went to the yacht club and found out
Hound Dog
is owned by a syndicate. I just got one name: Blackmore.’

Cal stroked his temple. ‘Anything on him?’

Byron shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

It wasn’t a great result for a day’s work. And the boss wasn’t impressed. He wanted to see the Cobra’s head on a silver platter, and was getting impatient with the wait.

‘How about the dude from the Art Bar?’ Cal asked.

Byron shook his head. He glanced around the bar as Cal left to order a beer. Sitting in their usual spot at the back was a handful of guys from the force, but there was still no sign of the dude from the Art Bar, and it seemed pretty likely that he wasn’t going to show. Byron had been waiting there for him for an hour already. He’d waited for two hours the night before. It looked like they’d lost him; he’d probably taken his collection of new safari suits and gone back to the Bahamas.

‘You get anywhere today?’ Byron asked when Cal returned.

Cal shook his head. ‘Got myself lost trying to find that bookmaker you were telling me about.’

‘It’s amazing what punters will find to bet their money on,’ Byron said. He wasn’t a gambler and he’d never really understood the attraction, but it was a way of life in this part of the world. ‘Who’d want to bet on a third-division soccer game in Croatia?’

‘It’s not about sport. It’s just money. There’s nothing more to it.’

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Byron said.

‘You should do some more digging on that guy in Malaysia. I’m hearing a lot of match-fixing rumours about him.’

Byron nodded. ‘I’ve already got my ear to the ground on that one.’ He pulled out his mobile to check on the TVi website. He wondered how much Lucy knew about
Hound Dog
. Drawing a deep breath, he realised he’d spent half the day worrying about Lucy getting a handle on the story, and the rest of the time worrying that Lucy had no idea what she was getting into.

Byron had never laid eyes on the Cobra. He didn’t know him, but he knew his reputation – the boys on the job in Guangzhou called him a
cold-blooded bastard.
Lucy would probably be boarding the first plane to Rio if she knew she’d stolen from that guy.

‘What’s the boss think about Yang?’ Cal asked, taking a sip from his beer.

Byron shrugged. He still hadn’t been able to raise the issue of Lucy with the boss. It made him look unprofessional and, with the boss breathing down his neck day and night about the Cobra, it never seemed the right time to add further complications to the project.

‘I’m seeing her later tonight.’

Cal nodded. ‘Good. This time – keep your pants on.’

‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’ Byron replied indignantly.

‘It means, I don’t care how hot her arse is – we’ve got a job to do.’

‘Piss off, Cal.’

Cal just laughed and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to finishing the job.’

Byron smiled in spite of himself. ‘Here’s to finishing, so I don’t have to spend so much time with you, you bastard.’

‘You wish,’ Cal smiled. ‘Have you forgotten that we share an apartment?’

Byron scoffed. ‘I almost did while I was in Ulan Bator.’

‘Come on, admit it,’ Cal teased. ‘You missed me while you were in Mongolia. I missed
you
– the apartment just wasn’t the same without your undies hanging in the shower.’

Byron laughed. He wasn’t going to admit it to Cal, but he did miss him when he travelled. They were like brothers, they knew each other so well – they were friends, tennis partners, colleagues, rivals and everything in between.
The Two Gardeners
– that’s what they called themselves. They didn’t know the front end from the back end of a shovel, but they knew how to work together and they were shit-hot at digging up dirt.

No wonder Byron never had a girlfriend – he was too busy working or hanging out with Cal to ever get to know anyone. Until now. He wondered how things would turn out with Lucy at the Art Bar. He’d put a bottle of champagne in the fridge in the apartment just in case they ended up back at his place. He certainly wasn’t counting on that happening, but he wanted to be prepared.

Byron looked at his phone again, watching Lucy’s latest report on the yacht race. Not because he thought he’d missed something – he’d watched it ten times, at least – but just because he could. He wanted to hear her voice and see her face on camera – the wind blowing her hair all over the place – so sexy.

He was only halfway through the story when Cal grabbed the phone. ‘Bro, you’re turning into a stalker. Leave it.’

As Byron opened his mouth to protest, a text pinged on his phone. Cal glanced at the screen, but Byron snatched it back before he could read it. It was from Lucy.

At the airport – sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Call you when I get back.

Byron stared at the message. They were meant to be meeting for a drink – she couldn’t be at the airport. Then he remembered how many texts he’d had to send, cancelling at the last minute because he was at the airport, or across the border somewhere.

‘She’s on her way to the airport,’ Byron said despondently. He sent Lucy a text.

Where you off to? Hope it’s somewhere nice.

The reply came quickly.

Wouldn’t you like to know
☺

He smiled. Lucy was playing him at his own cryptic game. Although it was hard to be secretive when you were a TV reporter. He’d know soon enough where she was chasing a story.

Cal scratched his chin. ‘Maybe we’ve got an opportunity, then,’ he said. ‘You can have a look around her apartment while she’s away. She must be hiding something there.’

‘No way!’ Byron protested. ‘You think I’m going to break in to her apartment? You’ve got to be joking.’

‘What, you’re not interested in the Cobra anymore?’

‘Of course I am. But I also want to see my twenty-third birthday. Lucy would kill me if I broke in.’

‘Okay, good, glad that’s clear,’ Cal sniped. ‘You’re more interested in playing happy couples with Miss TVi than getting to the Cobra? Nice seeing you, bro. But I’ve got work to do.’

Byron sighed deeply as he watched Cal stride out of the bar. ‘Arsehole.’

Who was Cal to question Byron’s commitment to finding the Cobra? He’d been busting a gut on this one for almost a year. And he was hardly playing happy couples with Lucy – he was only just on speaking terms with her! And she was hardly going to be a distraction if she was in another country. He texted her.

When are you going to be back?

She replied.

Friday morning. The early flight.

Byron immediately tapped out his response.

See you at the Art Bar on Friday at 9?

His phone chimed back.

I’ll be there. XX

Byron fiddled with his phone for a moment and then replayed the video of Lucy’s last race report, letting his eyes wander over her face and imagining her sitting on the bow of a boat skimming towards a remote island in Thailand.

He really did want to take her away. But to do that, he’d have to be honest. He’d have to tell her who he really was. Maybe Cal was right about his priorities; for once in his life he wanted to put a girl ahead of his job.