Free Dangerous Journey by Joanne Pence Page B

out of it. She struggled furiously before his hushed words penetrated her fears. “Stop it, C.J. It’s me. Stop it.”
    She turned her head just enough to confront her attacker. As her eyebrows shot up in recognition, he took his hand away from her mouth.
    “Darius!” she cried, putting her hand on her chest to still the mad beating of her heart. Her legs were ready to collapse from the fright he’d given her at the same time as she was overjoyed to see him here. The resulting confusion made her mad. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, scaring me like that!” She waved her arms for emphasis.
    “Not so loud.” He spoke in angry, hushed tones. “What the hell do you think you’re doing going up to the door of one of the most dangerous men in Chinatown?”
    “What? But…” she sputtered.
    “Come on!” Darius put his arm around her waist and hurried her out of the alley.
    “No! Let go of me!” She struggled to free herself. “I will not go anywhere with you! What are you doing here, anyway?”
    A slight metallic sound stopped her complaints. She clutched Darius’ jacket and strained to see in the foggy darkness. A small tin can rolled toward them from deep inside the alley. They watched it in surprise, and then Darius pushing her back into a dark alcove formed by a garage door as a figure, short and slight, stepped from the shadows and ran past them to the street.
    C.J. was afraid that her heart would stop from the scare Darius had given her, the effect of having him so close once again, and now this. She didn’t know whether to be frightened or furious.
    Still, she couldn’t stop her fingers from tightening on his jacket.
    “Who was that?” she whispered.
    Without answering, he held her to his side as he quickly led her out of the alley. This time, she made no protest.
    He hailed a taxi on Grant Avenue. “Mark Hopkins,” he told the driver as they climbed in.
    Even in her bewildered state, the name of one of the most elegant hotels in San Francisco came through with crystalline clarity.
    She glanced at him in surprise. He had gotten a haircut since she saw him last, a casual razor cut, combed to the side and back. All in all, it suited him well. Too well.
    Her eyes dropped to the jacket he was wearing. It was made of fine, soft leather, obviously expensive. What was going on here?
    “The Mark Hopkins?” she asked finally. “Why are we going there?”
    “I’ve got a room.” He gave her a wink.
    “A room? Hey, isn’t that my old line?” She couldn’t help a sheepish grin.
    Yes, her old line.... Memories of the past few days came rushing at her. To her, Hong Kong would always mean only one thing: Darius Kane. She could remember perfectly the first time she’d seen him. How she had found the nerve to talk to him, let alone invite him to her room, she would never know. Then she remembered Darius in her hotel room, and the way he had teased her! And on Victoria Peak, overlooking the harbor, with the hot sun shining on his face and the bright azure sky as the backdrop. And Darius playing the piano...
    Suddenly the words of the British inspector warning her against him drummed in her ears.
    When she had been hurt and frightened by the burglars, Darius had comforted her. Yet the inspector had told her not to trust him. How well she remembered Darius’ arms supporting her, his smile, that boyish grin that could make her heart melt or drive her to fury, his captivating eyes. But always, always, she thought of the inspector’s warning, that Darius would do anything for money, including spending time with the sister of a thief.
    She sat upright. “Take me to my hotel. The Golden Gate.”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Leave me alone!” she shouted. ‘‘Let me out of here!”
    The driver started to slow down.
    “No.” Darius leaned forward in the seat to speak to the driver. “She’s just upset. The Mark, please.” He turned back to C.J. and took her hands. “Tell me what’s