Jade Tiger (7 page)

"Against that wall," said One-eye, motioning to the wall furthest from the door Shan had just entered. He needed to be closer to the exit, or Shan would stop him. They both knew it. "And you," he said to Shan, "put the dragon on that table by the door."

She did as he asked and set the dragon on a small round table that looked as if it had recently supported a large vase. The dragon, so heavy in her hand, barely made a sound on the polished wood. Less than five minutes she'd held it in her hand. Giving it up again so soon after she'd recovered it... Anger rolled over her skin in waves of heat. No, she wasn't ready to give up that easily.

Shan joined Ian and Buckley by the far wall, keeping her eyes locked on One-eye. One slip, that's all she needed. If he took his hands off Etienne's head for a heartbeat, she could pounce. The boy would get out of the way--take the opportunity that was offered. He would ride the wind. Even a young dragon inspires awe.

One-eye was careful. He watched her as he walked toward the dragon, his hands gripping the boy's chin and hair firmly, his steps even and slow. They reached the table.

"Take the dragon, boy," One-eye said in English. But Etienne didn't speak English, Shan thought. Or Mandarin. He wouldn't be able to obey the bastard. Even as her hope grew, Etienne reached a hand toward the jade sculpture and picked it up. Of course, he picked it up, she chided herself. He loves the statue. He wants to keep it. She'd have done exactly the same thing.

One-eye smiled. The blood on his face had stopped flowing and now lay in shiny, coagulated tendrils along his cheeks and across his nose.

"The boy and I will be taking a snowmobile ride together," One-eye said.

"No, you won't," said Shan. "The boy doesn't leave the house with you." Shan felt Ian shift his weight beside her. Buckley remained uncharacteristically silent on the other side of Ian.

"I can certainly arrange that," One-eye said. "But if you want to see him alive, then he will safeguard my passage a little longer."

"No," Shan said again. "No deal."

"Shan," Ian began, but his words just trailed off. Perhaps he realized what Shan already knew, that One-eye would kill the boy regardless. Shan's only chance at saving Etienne required the boy to stay in the house. She was fast, but she'd have no chance keeping up with a snowmobile if One-eye got Etienne that far.

One-eye's hands tightened on Etienne, but the boy seemed oblivious. Etienne cradled the dragon in the palm of one hand and ran his fingertips over its sinuous curves. Shan had held it the same exact way in the attic.

The boy must not die.

But now she'd told herself that the boy couldn't die, and that she couldn't let the dragon escape with One-eye. Given the situation, that outcome seemed highly unlikely. It would be easy to sacrifice Etienne and keep the dragon. One-eye knew it, too. That bastard was banking on her common human decency. The Order of the Jade Circle held the animals as sacred, but not more sacred than human life. That was one of the tenets that separated the women of the Order from their male counterparts in the monasteries. Monks were more willing to sacrifice themselves and each other for a scroll, or an ancient incense burner, or a sword. Women were more likely to sacrifice themselves for each other and their families.

"It's your choice," One-eye said. "And you need to choose now."

Etienne had been studying the dragon with such intensity that Shan would have sworn he was oblivious to everything else. But at One-eye's latest words, the boy tossed the jade dragon into the air like an old baseball.

The room erupted with movement.

One-eye released Etienne's chin and grabbed for the dragon. Shan leaped onto the overstuffed armchair between her and One-eye and launched herself into the air at her enemy. Etienne tore himself away from One-eye with a scream. Shan saw the huge clump of the boy's hair clutched in One-eye's fist. Behind her, Ian and Buckley both started to move.

One-eye snatched the dragon from mid-air just as he spotted Shan flying at him. He vaulted backward onto the hand that had been holding the scrap of Etienne's bloody hair. Shan landed where he had first been and rolled to her feet. She leaped at One-eye again just as he continued his back flip. One-eye's legs smashed through the huge bay window lining the front of the study in an explosion of glass, and he disappeared into the darkness outside. Shan never hesitated. Her second leap took her to the window seat, now covered in glass, and then out into the frigid night air.

Her jump took her over a low, snow-covered shrub just below the window. Once again, she tucked in her head and rolled. As she stood up, covered in wet, white powder, One-eye was already running. Running toward the snowmobiles parked by the house, the dragon still firmly in his possession.

She bolted after him, her feet slipping on the snow, her arms pumping at her sides, her ribs aching. Her breath came in puffs of white from her nose and mouth. Shan knew she could catch him before he could start the vehicle. One of the tiger's main attributes was speed, and Shan knew she was a blur of red against the snow as she ran.

One-eye made it to the first snowmobile as the two remaining goons stepped out of the shadows by the vehicle to stand between her and her prey.

Shan continued to run straight at them. The men crouched into fighting stances. When she was close enough, Shan gathered her energy, her chi, and sprang into the air.

She soared over the men, flipping above their heads. Shan looked down into their astonished faces and smiled. She landed behind them in a quiet puff of snow just as the snowmobile bellowed to life. One-eye looked back and saw her there, only a few feet behind him. His good eye widened, and Shan's smile turned grim. She could almost smell his fear.

One-eye gunned the engine, and snow spattered from the back of the vehicle. Shan shielded her eyes and jumped again. She landed on the seat behind One-eye as the snowmobile jerked forward.

Even with the headlights on, Shan could barely see ten feet in front of them. She held One-eye with her left arm around his chest and reached for the dragon with her right. The snowmobile swerved violently as One-eye maneuvered it between the trees and shrubs that seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of them.

"Drop the dragon," she yelled in his ear.

He answered by accelerating. They veered to the left to avoid a huge tree trunk almost hidden by a snow drift, then to the right to avoid a dense copse of pines. One-eye was gunning for the dragon or death, and Shan had no say in the decision. She stretched her arm forward again, and her fingertips brushed the dragon in his grip. One-eye swerved sharply. Shan almost toppled off, but managed to regain her balance on the seat.

They zigged and zagged between a dozen more blurry trees before Shan reached for the dragon again. She felt the dragon's heat in her fingertips as she touched it, a sense of belonging and rightness. She gritted her teeth and leaned farther, straining to wrap her fingers around the dragon's smooth body.

Suddenly, One-eye's elbow slammed back into her already bruised ribs. Black clouds of pain filled Shan's vision. She released her hold on One-eye and fell backward off the snowmobile.

Shan tried to protect her ribs as she tumbled in the snow. Her shoulders and legs smacked against the ground. She kept her head tucked in, her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth so that she wouldn't bite it. Each impact with the earth sent sharp spears of pain spiraling up through her ribcage and into her skull. She screamed.

When the world finally stopped spinning, Shan opened her eyes to utter darkness. She was lying face down in the snow, still clutching her side. Somewhere, off in the distance, she could hear the gloating rumble of One-eye's snowmobile. Her own irregular breathing resounded in her ears, irritating her. Shan rolled slowly onto her back, dispersing the sound into the darkness. She stared straight up into the oppressive tree branches that covered her like a too-thick blanket in the summer.

Failure. Pain. Frustration.

Snowflakes melted on her face and mixed with a few sparse tears, the ones she wasn't able to stop. Shan probed her ribs with a finger. Three cracked, maybe one broken. She was lucky that she hadn't punctured a lung with that latest set of acrobatics. She tried to sit up and screamed. Definitely felt like a broken rib. Shan eased herself back onto the ground. Dr. Lee would be able to help when she made it back to Los Angeles. He was the best acupuncturist she'd found, almost as good as the Jade Circle's healers back in China. And luckily he spoke English, as her Korean had never been more than shaky at best. Yes, that's what she'd do. Go see Dr. Lee and get the chi flowing to the right places in her body. Even a broken bone could be healed quickly with the right applications of energy.

The pain in her ribs subsided as the snow numbed her body. Shan stared up at the trees again, grateful this time for their comforting presence. She should get herself up, start walking back to the house. But she was so comfortable here. The silence of the woods, the softness of the snow, the smell of wet pine and distant smoke. Just a few more minutes, that's all she needed. Yes, just a few more minutes.

"Shan!"

Ian's voice floated above the snow, tried to rise higher but got caught in those encroaching tree branches overhead. She heard her name again, closer this time, more insistent. He sounded worried, maybe even scared. How selfish of her to have rested here on the cool ground for so long. How selfish, and how stupid. She didn't need to add frostbite to her list of injuries.

"Here," Shan called, much softer than she'd intended. She winced, a hand immediately on her ribs again, protecting them. "Here," she said again, a little louder.

"Shan!"

His voice sounded farther away this time. The word "here" was too hard. Shan sucked air into her lungs and yelled. It was the wordless scream she used in martial arts to focus her chi and deliver power to her blows. The sound ripped from her mouth, heightened by the swift, sharp pain it caused in her side. When the echo of her voice faded, she heard swift footsteps. Soon, she felt their vibration through the ground.

"Shan!"

And then Ian was on his knees at her side, his cheeks bright red, his eyes an even brighter blue. "Oh, god, Shan. How bad is it?"

"It's not bad," she said quickly. "Just some ribs. Nothing life-threatening."

Shan watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'm okay."

Ian nodded, his eyes still closed.

"Is everyone else all right?"

"Yes," Ian said, opening his eyes. "They're fine. One of the thugs got away, though. Sorry."

"Don't be," Shan said. "Mine got away, too. With the dragon."

"Oh, Shan, I'm so sorry." His hand found her shoulder. Even on a cold night, she felt his heat through her clothes.

"Me, too," she said, "but it's not over. And besides, ol' One-eye is going to feel worse than I do when he realizes he could have asked for the crane, too."

Ian laughed, and the oppressive weight of pain and fatigue pinning Shan to the ground lessened. Shan tried to laugh, too, but ended up wincing.

"We need to get you back to the house," he said. "I don't suppose..."

"What?"

He looked sheepish all of a sudden. That funny mouth of his was hitched up on one side, along with one of his eyebrows. Shan couldn't help it; she tried to laugh again.

Ian grinned. "I...I don't suppose you'd let me carry you back to the house?"

"Absolutely," Shan said. "That's a great idea."

She could have sprouted wings and produced less surprise than was now apparent on his face. Ian wore his emotions in every angle and shadow of his face, in the way he hunched his shoulders or let them relax. It was a rare and endearing quality, to say the least.

"Really?" Ian said. "You'll let me carry you?"

"It sounds a lot better than trying to walk it by myself," Shan said. "But I'm not sure why you're so surprised. Am I that scary?"

"Scary? That's not the adjective I'd pick." He gave her a look then that could have melted the polar ice caps. It certainly sent the blood flowing through her body again, hot and fast. "But are you intimidating? A little. I guess I wasn't sure if you'd find the offer insulting."

"Ah, I get it," said Shan. She could feel heat rising to her face, fueled now by an old, familiar anger. "Just because I can handle myself in a fight, I'm incapable of asking for, or accepting, help when I need it. What a convenient stereotype."

Shan expected them to get into a knock-down, drag-out fight. Sure, she was flat on her back with a broken rib in the middle of the French Alps. That hardly mattered when a good argument was at stake. She was more than ready.

But Ian, man of limitless surprises, shocked her yet again. He simply blinked at her twice and laughed.

"You're completely right," he said. "That was a stupid thing to say, and I'm ashamed for even thinking it. You ready for your trip back to the house?"

Shan stared at him and did some eye blinking of her own. "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You make an offhand comment, I call you on it, and you apologize?"

"That about sums it up, yes," he said.

"Unbelievable." Shan shook her head. "I'm stunned."

"Good," Ian said. "That'll make it easier to pick you up."

And with those words, he slipped one arm carefully under her back and the other under her knees. Shan wrapped her arms around him, only briefly distracted by the incredibly soft hair at the base of his neck.

"Ready?" he whispered, his face just inches from hers. Shan nodded. Ian adjusted his balance and plucked Shan gently from her nest of snow. Then he was off, trudging carefully toward the house. Her ribs complained, but the pain quickly subsided into a bearable ache.

"You need to eat more," Ian said. "You weigh less than a mummified dog."

"Oh, how flattering," Shan replied.

And then, because his chin was so damnably close, she leaned up and kissed it.

Shan's heart thudded in her throat, and she couldn't keep a huge grin from spreading across her face. It probably made her look like a homicidal maniac. But his skin had been so soft and warm. And the taste--she couldn't describe it, except that it left her wanting another kiss. Maybe even a nibble. Definitely a nibble. Ian stopped dead in his tracks.

"Did you just kiss my chin?"

His face was, for once, difficult to read. "Um, yes?" she said, "unless you'd like the answer to be no. In which case I'd be lying."

Ian grinned. From this close, his teeth were as white as the snow surrounding them. "Yes will do just fine."

His eyes fixed on hers with such intensity that Shan's entire body felt like it wanted to burst into flames. He brought his head closer to hers, and the scent of his skin filled her nose. Shan was suddenly aware of Ian's arms around her back and legs, keeping her close to his body, to his heartbeat.

"We kung-fu women are notorious harlots," she whispered, her voice husky. The pupils of his eyes grew huge, like a cat's eyes at night.

"Is that so?" Ian's gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips, lingered there for several breathless moments, and then traveled back to her eyes again.

Shan squirmed even closer to his chest. "Absolutely," she breathed. "We've been kissing men's chins for centuries."

Ian swallowed. She watched the movement of his Adam's apple and silently added his neck to the list of body parts she wanted to sample. "Just chins?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Some of us are a little more adventurous." She breathed deep and lifted her mouth to his. He met her halfway.

Shan shivered as their lips pressed together. So soft, so warm. Her heart pounded. Ian made a little noise, partway between a moan and a whimper. He pulled her closer. Shan sank into the heat. She hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected Ian's reaction or her own, not to a simple chaste kiss. Why did she suddenly feel like she was going to pass out?

"Shan..." Ian whispered, his lips still on hers.

Shan shifted her head. She ended their first kiss and started another. Little explosions flashed behind her closed eyelids, and the small gasp she heard was her own.

"Shan," Ian repeated, his voice breathless. "I can't..."

Shan summoned every shred of willpower remaining in her body and pulled her mouth from his. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to catch her breath.

"I can't kiss you," Ian breathed, "and keep standing here." His eyes were half closed, his cheeks red. "My legs are going to give." He managed a cute little smile that sent Shan reeling with the desire to kiss him again, to kiss him until he fell right over into the snow with her on top of him.

"Okay, okay," she said. Shan turned her head away from him, trying to get some clarity. It didn't work. "The house. Right. We're supposed to go to the house."

"Oh, no," breathed Ian, "my legs don't work, so I need to sit down. I never meant to imply that we should stop..."

Shan turned back to him, grinning. "There. That tree."

"Done."

Ian slogged a few paces to the tree, leaned his back against it, then lowered them both slowly to the ground. Funny,
terra firma
did little to stop the wild careening of Shan's heart in her ribcage. She suspected all her internal organs were getting in on the action.

Ian continued cradling Shan's back, but removed his other hand from beneath her legs. With his freed hand, he ran three blazing fingertips along her face, from forehead to chin. Shan leaned into his touch, struggling to keep her eyes open. She wanted to share this with him, to see every second of exploration from his eyes as well as her own.

He said nothing as he stroked her face, gently moving a strand of hair from her eyes. Rather, he said nothing with his voice. In his face, Shan read amazement and surprise. He was treating her like a bubble that he knew would burst, so he treasured every moment until it did.

Shan shuddered and closed her eyes, suddenly close to tears. It had been so easy to tell herself she didn't need this. She had convinced herself that the pain of failed relationships far outweighed the potential benefits that a steady sweetheart could bring. She had even tried the one-night stand route--exactly once. But that encounter had left her feeling even more empty and unfulfilled than before.

Now, sitting in Ian's arms just a few days after meeting him, her past conclusions seemed ridiculous, short sighted, and downright stupid. Two kisses from this man, and it was all worthwhile.

Shan rested her cheek on Ian's collarbone and quietly nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. He shivered and pulled her close.

"Shan..."

"Yes?" she murmured, sucking in his scent through her nose and exhaling hot breath over his skin from her mouth.

"Just checking to make sure you were real," Ian said, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. She felt him swallow.

"Mmm." Shan kissed his neck. He tasted slightly salty, and oh-so soft and intoxicating.

"Oh, god," Ian said, shuddering again. She felt his heart hammering against her body. "Shan..."

"Not so eloquent now, are you, Professor?" Shan chuckled against his throat.

"I was eloquent at some point?" he countered. "I think you've been kissing the wrong guy."

"Well, in that case..." She started to pull away from him, but his arms resisted.

"But I'm a quick learner," Ian said, and then his mouth found hers and they fell into another endless kiss.

"Ian!"

Which was, of course, ruined by Buckley. Shan let him call three more times before she relinquished Ian.

"That boy has impeccable timing," Ian murmured. "Are you ready to face the inquisition?"

"Is anyone ever ready to deal with Buckley?" Shan replied. She watched Ian's pulse in his throat and struggled with another urge to nibble.

"Let's get it over with, then, shall we?" The edge of his mouth curled into a wry smile and his fingertips once again traced the bones of her face. Shan was dimly aware of nodding. Ian's touch had released a new volley of tingles down her spine.

Sadly, Ian moved his head away from hers in order to shout to Buckley. In far too short a time, Buckley was standing a few feet away, huffing. Shan steeled herself for his jibes. Frankly, she didn't care what he thought about her and Ian. It was none of his business. And even if it was his business, it didn't matter.

"Fortier's wife called the cops," Buckley said between breaths. "We've got to get out of here."

"Damn," said Shan. Her body still buzzed from kissing Ian. She needed to regain focus, to clear her mind. "We need to get back to the car." She turned to Ian. "Can you?"

"Yes," he said simply. He wobbled a little, but made it to his feet still carrying her. "Let's go."

They said nothing as they jogged through the forest. Shan's ribs reminded her of their compromised state almost immediately, but the pain didn't seem as bad. She smiled. Ian was just
that
good. And maybe, just maybe, the ribs were only cracked after all. For now, all that mattered was getting the crane out of Etienne's room and getting the hell out of France.

When they made it back to the house, Charles and Etienne Fortier were waiting by the little green rental car. Etienne wore Shan's strawberry-pink ski jacket with Ian's messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Put me down next to the car?" Shan asked.

"Anything you want," whispered Ian, just to her. Shan growled softly and gave him what she hoped was a smoldering look. Ian lowered her to her feet, and she leaned against the car for support.

"We have four of them," Charles Fortier said as he rubbed his hands together. "Three men and a woman."

"Be careful with her," Shan said. "Don't get close to her, no matter what. Let the police handle her."

Fortier nodded. Etienne removed the messenger bag and handed it to Shan. She took it with a grim nod.

"When this is all over," Shan said to Fortier, "I'll contact you. The boy needs to come to Los Angeles and study with me."

Charles Fortier pursed his lips and looked to Ian, apparently for help, but Ian was watching the boy.

"He will grow wild, even with the dragon gone," continued Shan. "He will be unpredictable, dangerous. I'm sure you've seen the signs."

"I thought the child was merely reaching puberty," Fortier said. He put one hand on his son's shoulder, but the boy didn't react. Fortier removed it hastily. "I'll discuss it with my wife."

Shan nodded. Slowly, she lowered herself into a crouch in order to look Etienne in the eye. "You must come study with me," she said quietly. She pointed a finger at him and then at herself, willing him to understand despite their language barrier. "If they do not let you, you must find me yourself when you are old enough."

"Do not say such things to my son!" Fortier exclaimed, but Ian held up a hand, silencing him.

Shan folded back the flap of the messenger bag and pulled out the jade crane. Its milky green body seemed to trap the moon's light and keep it within. Etienne's eyes widened, and he reached out a hand to touch the statue. Shan let him.

"You," she said again, pointing the boy, "come to me." She pointed to herself. "Do you understand?"

Etienne removed his hand from the crane, looked at Shan, and nodded.

"Good." Shan stood and turned back to Fortier. "You have a duty to this boy. Please don't fail him."

Ian and Charles exchanged a few more words, many of them heated, but Shan shut them out. She focused on maneuvering herself into the backseat of the car without puncturing a lung. A noble goal, in her opinion. Buckley climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Remind me to take martial artists on all my vacations," he grinned. "You people are pretty useful."

Shan merely grunted her response, but she couldn't help smiling. Buckley's levity was often ill-timed, but she appreciated it now.

"You need to work on your snowmobiling, though," Buckley added, and Shan immediately retracted her silent praise.

The passenger door opened, and Ian folded himself into the little European seat. Buckley barely waited for Ian to shut his door before he shifted into gear and headed for the road.

"Sorry I took so long," said Ian, snapping his seatbelt on. "I remembered something about how Fortier got the dragon. He was in Cairo fifteen years ago, in a secret market for stolen artifacts, when a Chinese woman approached him and gave him the statue."

"That doesn't make any sense," Shan interrupted. "No Jade Circle woman would knowingly give up an animal in her guardianship."

Ian twisted in his seat so that he could see Shan as he talked. "Fortier said she looked nervous. She told him she was being followed. She said he could have the dragon as long as he never sold it or displayed it publicly."

Shan frowned. "Does he have any idea where the woman is now?"

Ian shook his head. "Hasn't seen her since Cairo. Of course, he wasn't really looking. Charles isn't an archaeologist; he just likes old things. Has quite a collection, in fact." He smiled wryly. "I've been trying to get him to donate his artifacts to a museum, but the man is surprisingly stubborn on that issue. He likes having them to himself."

"Are you two done yapping?" Buckley asked. They'd almost made it back to the main highway in Chamonix, and the traffic was already starting to thicken. "Because I'll think you'll be interested in what I learned while you were both off on your forest expedition."

Shan refused to give Buckley the satisfaction of seeing her blush. Ian, however, turned as red as a raspberry. Almost the color his cheeks had been in the woods, just after they'd kissed for the first, hopefully not the last, time. "Tell us," Shan said quickly.

Buckley merged into a heavy stream of cars. "Well, it seems that Mrs. Fortier overheard some interesting snippets from her captors," he said.

"They probably didn't care what they said in front of her," Shan interjected. "They planned on killing the whole family before they left, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well, they mentioned this big auction," Buckley continued. "Said they needed the dragon for it. Mentioned some guy named Ashton--"

"Victor Ashton?" said Ian. "I've heard of him. He's rich, collects antiques. Like our friend Fortier, but on a much larger scale. Holds some function at his estate in China almost every year--my parents get invited, but they haven't gone to one yet."

"An auction?" Shan asked. She didn't like where this was going. The jade animals were sacred and meant to be kept secret. The last thing the Jade Circle needed was the exposure of a huge auction. Then she'd have to fight every filthy rich collector in the world to get them back.

Ian nodded grimly. "Probably."

"So what do we do now?" Buckley said.

Shan looked out the window and watched the trees streak by. In the darkness, they felt like an endless stream of her ancestors, tall and shadowed, looking down on her with disappointment. Her journey was far from over.

"You both go somewhere safe," she said eventually, "while I infiltrate the auction and recover the dragon."

"Now, wait just a minute--"

"I have a better idea," Ian said. His voice sounded hard. Shan could tell he was trying to quell her arguments before she even made them. "We go to my parent's house," he continued, staring right at her, "we take their invitations, and we go to the auction together."

"It's too..." She started to say "dangerous," but the look on Ian's face stopped her. And he was right. What part of the last two days hadn't been dangerous? She tried a different tack. "Look, you saw how it went in the Fortier's house. If the family hadn't been held as hostages, the situation would have been much simpler. If I bring you to the auction, I'll spend most of my time protecting you."

Ian wanted to argue with her, she could tell. The muscles on his face seemed to quiver slightly just below his skin. His soft, kissable skin. Whoa. That comes later, she told herself. Possibly much later.

"I'm sorry that I'll complicate your mission," Ian said slowly, "but I'm going to insist. You need the invitations. I can get them for you. The invitation is for both my parents, so it will look less fishy if we go together. They'll assume my parents sent me in their place." Ian reached into the backseat and took Shan's hand. Her skin tingled where their flesh touched, and she felt, once again, as if she might melt from his heat. "I'll be useful to you, Shan. I promise."