Dragon's Blood (Black Planet Book 1) (2 page)

“So you’re in?”

“Like I have a choice?” Not if she wanted to keep her job. And she did love her job, most of the time.

“So you know who’s in that other room?”

Anne nodded wordlessly. She swallowed, her throat dry and parched. She wanted to get up, cross the harbor and go back home. But she didn’t have that choice.

“You ready?”

She stood, rising to her full height, squaring her shoulders, masking the uncertainty, the guilt and the fear. All the freshly plowed shit that had re-surfaced after reading the case notes shook her to the core. She gathered the files from the table and handed them to Greene. Standing aside, she followed her boss out the door. This was undoubtedly as painful for him as it was for her.

* * *

A
iden Chen glared
. Of course, they’d pulled some damned sack over his head, so the glare was pointless. He jerked his arms, testing the shackles that anchored his arms to something heavy and solid… a table? His naked feet were secured to the floor, the slender cuffs were smooth, surprisingly comfortable and made of some metal completely impervious to his strength. He gave up the struggle and focused on his surroundings.

An interrogation room, judging by the feel of things. The hard chair was cold against his nearly bare ass. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what warrants might be out on his name, and came up with nothing. He mostly operated inside Wharf, which was off-limits to the SFPD. Something else was up. Instinct cooled his temper; he went still and quiet. He waited. Within moments, the door opened.

“Okay, Chen, I’m taking off the hood. You be a good boy and wait patiently.” The accent was flat and white. East Bay. Automatically, Aiden’s bare foot jerked against the shackle. He stilled himself as the fabric cleared his face, allowing him to breathe fresh air.

He blinked against the harsh, artificial light. It was indeed an interrogation room--one he’d never seen. Too clean for The City. Too new. His glare moved from the uniform leaving the room to the dark mirrored window, which caught his angry reflection. His heightened vision told him the observation room was empty. Three cups of hot tea waited on the table, one in front of where he sat. One black. Two green. They were still steaming.

How civilized. Maybe they’d have cucumber sandwiches, too. The kind with the crusts trimmed away.

He shifted uncomfortably on the hard chair. They’d pulled him from bed before dawn and he needed to pee. He could only be grateful they’d allowed him underwear. Aiden prayed the cage groupie that’d been in his bed had locked up on her way out. He didn’t have much of value, but still, he didn’t need any roof rats digging through his shit. He rarely took anyone home; he must’ve had too much to drink again.

The door opened and Aiden glanced up, feeling his face go stiff and still. Of course he wasn’t in San Francisco. He was across the Bay, in Oakland. Milo Green entered the room. He sat carefully, placed a stack of files on the table then pushed the cup of green tea toward Aiden. They’d knocked him out with a tranq. He didn’t even remember the ride over.

He closed his eyes, heard several sets of footsteps echoing down the hall. But one set stood out like a signal. Steady and light, and almost silent.

He didn’t need to see to know who it was.

Aiden opened his eyes when she walked into the room; she was cool, elegant and dangerous. That serene, beautiful face was the face of evil as he knew it. Maybe evil was a little dramatic. Try pain, grief, and betrayal.

Yeah, that fit.

“Hello, boss. Hey, Annie.” Sarcasm laced his words. “Long time no see.”

She paused just inside the door, looking at him. She didn’t look any older than she had that morning she’d walked out the door of his home, Lisa at her side. The black suit was the perfect foil for her dark hair and porcelain skin. The touches of red at her ears and throat reminded him of blood. She was missing something, though. He’d rarely seen her without a smile, and back then, she’d always glowed, as though she’d been lit from within. That was all gone.

He saw a flicker of something in her dark brown eyes… guilt? No, anger. But not at him. She was looking at his hands. She then looked at Greene, almost reproachfully.

She stepped out into the hall and spoke softly, returning with the keys to his shackles.

“I’ve sent for clothing for you.” She sorted a key from the others and moved to his side. She looked straight into his eyes, and the contact sent adrenaline through his system. She deftly released his hands.

“If you mess with me, Chen, I’ll kick your ass.” The warning was delivered with soft intent. She knelt to unlock the shackles, her head near his body.

“You can try,” he breathed into her ear.

She went still. The nanites that strengthened his body also enhanced his senses. He could smell her unperfumed skin. He knew she still lived in Wharf, but Annie carried barely a trace of the trademark waterfront scent. Instead, he smelled the sandalwood incense she burned in her little rooftop shrine to General Kwan. He smelled the cherry blossom soap Mary Jackson made and sold in her general goods store. He smelled the mélange of her emotions: guilt, want and anger.

The fragrance of arousal tickled his nose as she turned her head slightly, looking straight at the swelling bulge of his cock just inches from her face. Inwardly, he cursed at his own reaction to her breath brushing his thigh, and at the slight pink that flushed her cheeks as her gaze slid up to meet his.

Something primal… fear? She’d never carried that sort of fear, not in his memory. This fear scent surrounded her like a comfortable, familiar essence she wore every day. It permeated her clothing and looked at him from her eyes. Aiden’s erection quickly faded. He looked away so she wouldn’t see the abrupt concern on his face. He hated knowing it was there. Faced with seeing her after all these years, the carefully nurtured hate melted away into concern. He could kick himself. It seemed that loyalty was ingrained between partners, even with all that had passed between them.

Annie moved from his side and seated herself in front of a pair of plain folders that her boss had arranged on the table. She sat straight and upright, directly across from Greene. The pair of them were just that… a pair. Identical weary expressions weighed them down. Annie took a sip of her tea and set the cup carefully back into its moisture ring. If this is what the job had done to them, he was glad to be out. Aiden folded his arms across his bare chest and waited. He looked at the tea in front of him and started to reach for the glass.

“He’s back.”

Aiden’s hand dropped to the table like it’d been weighted.

Greene’s words were unadorned, and it took Aiden a few panicked moments to sort them out. He knew what was coming so he had time to prepare for the rush of emotion as it flooded his brain. He braced and sat very still as his body reacted. He separated himself from the pain and grief that never really left him for long. When he could speak, Aiden’s voice was steady, matter-of-fact.

“He left no evidence beyond his kill. There weren’t enough victims to establish an MO. You’re full of shit, Greene.”

Aiden rubbed the bare skin of his arms, feeling goose flesh rising. Going home across the water would be a barrel of monkeys without shoes or clothes. He didn’t care. Aiden stood, knowing they’d be unable to stop him.

“Blood evidence.” He froze at the sound of Annie’s voice. It was soft and velvety, yet compelling. She spoke fluent Japanese, Italian, and her Mandarin was passable. She had a slight accent unique to Wharf. “One of the recent victims fought and drew blood—enough for a detailed analysis. Whatever this thing is, it assimilates the DNA of its victims. Your wife’s DNA was one of the layers the lab isolated.”

His legs went numb, and he slid back into the chair, staring down at the grey metal surface of the table.

h
er former partner
sat so very, very still. Annie watched as all emotion shut down on his normally expressive face. His arms were crossed protectively across his chest, covering the elaborate tattoo work there. She’d never seen him shirtless before, but knew the medallion on the center of his chest matched Lisa’s. They’d gone to an old Japanese
Yakuza
artist who’d given them an elegant Chinese dragon and phoenix design. He wore the dragon, she’d worn the phoenix. He knew that Annie’s Japanese upbringing made the tattoo abhorrent to her; she was surprised that he was hiding it from her sight.

No scars marred his body, he had no recent tattoo work. Lisa had told her that he’d planned on sleeves but she’d died, and not long after, he’d had himself injected with black-market nanites. He’d never scar again. His skin would forever reject tattoos. He’d made himself somewhat more than human.

Or somewhat less than human, depending on how you looked at it.

He was still handsome though his features were now blurred with anger and grief and disillusionment. His hair was longer than she was accustomed to seeing it. Fat, black curls and tawny skin weren’t the only evidence of his African heritage. His face was Chinese but stronger. He had a full mouth and a tough looking jaw. Strong cheekbones rose with the angles of his golden eyes. His gaze was not still. He glared at the table in cold fury.

She tried not to look at his body. He’d been her partner, the husband of her friend. Carrying nanites kept one healthy, and much stronger than average, but you still had to work to stay in shape. His sculpted body showed proof of hours working out.

But then, his life depended on being stronger and faster than everyone else. More so now than when he’d been on the force.

Annie told herself that the heat rising in her belly was anger. They’d dragged him out of bed, all the way across the Bay without clothing or shoes. They’d treated him like a common felon, not a former detective. The flush in her cheeks had nothing to do with his smooth dark skin or the wicked tattoos undulating over the muscles of his arms.

Greene continued to speak, ignoring Aiden’s silence. “We need to put Tanaka undercover. We think he’s hunting on the fight circuits. The recent victims were all from your world.”

Aiden’s gaze snapped to the Lieutenant. “Her. You want
her
undercover, and me to help?” His eyes were cold as he looked at her contemptuously. “Fine. Her funeral.”

Annie’s jaw flexed and then relaxed. She had nothing to prove to this man. She called up her long practiced serenity and let Aiden have his say.

“Bit of news, Greene. Most every fighter out there is enhanced. She ain’t.”

“I don’t need to be,” Annie said.

He snorted. “Even the girl fighters are seeded. She’ll bite it on her first match, Greene.”

“That isn’t your problem. You just need to get her in. You can cut her loose once she’s lined up for a few fights.”

“I don’t need to win, Aiden. I just need to fight and survive. And it’s not going to come after me. It’s sniffing out Nanos.”

He finally looked at her. “Lisa wasn’t enhanced.”

“Yes, Aiden, she was. Not like you but she’d taken a small injection after a gunshot wound when she was a rookie.”

That treatment had done what the nanites were designed to do. They’d located the wound, fixed it, and then filtered out of the blood through the kidneys. But they’d left a signature in Lisa Chen’s blood, and made her a target.

“Look, no offense here, Tanaka. Greene, I know Annie’s good, but why not send in one of the guys?”

“We chose Annie because she’s the right person for the job. She’s a member of Wharf community and is an experienced martial artist.”

Aiden snorted in humor. “Doing Tai Chi on the roof ain’t exactly fighting, Greene.”

She let his comments pass. And then she wondered how he knew about the time she spent up top.

“Fine.” Aiden said abruptly.

She looked over at him in surprise. Aiden sat, teacup in hand, idly swirling the liquid around. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. “I’ll introduce you around, get you some gigs, but beyond that, I’m out of it. And I get your share of any winnings, provided you survive the first fight.”

He reached for the file. Greene nodded slightly, so she pushed it across the table. They were violating protocol, but Chen was ex-force and knew how to handle himself.

She watched as he rapidly scanned the documents, lingering when he read the data relating to Lisa’s death. Her statement was there, and she knew he’d never read the official account. She started picking at the rough edge of a fingernail, then fisted her hands. After the attack he’d buried his wife and walked away, leaving his former partner to pick up the pieces of the nightmare.

They lived within throwing distance of one another, yet this was the first time she’d seen Aiden Chen since the day of Lisa’s death. Between his anger and her survivor’s guilt, their friendship had been irredeemably shattered. She’d heard about his meteoric rise in the underground fight world through neighborhood gossip. She doubted that he’d followed her career at all.

But he knew she practiced Tai Chi on the roof.

When he slowly closed the file and looked across the table at her, his face was stiff with fury. He knew now, everything that had happened, or almost everything. Her account had been couched in the formal language of the detective, and they’d left out the full details of her injuries, but he knew the scope of her failure.