Free Tiger Eye by Marjorie M. Liu Page A

distance between them, a bit of breathing room.
    Fine by her. It gave Dela more time to contemplate her burgeoning insanity—a first-rate madness in which a kiss was suddenly more important than inexplicable assassins, magic boxes, and immortal shape-shifters.
    I am losing my mind , she thought again.
    But oh, her lips still burned, her entire body flushed with desire. Dela had never been kissed like that. Just the press of Hari’s mouth, his taste and scent, and fire had roared through her body, shearing muscle and bone, convulsions twisting her lower stomach.
    She had been so prepared to box his ears—if she ever recovered from the smoldering, devastatingly erotic way he looked at her—but once he touched her neck, her mouth, all coherent thought had fled screeching into the dark recesses of her mind.
    Dela wanted him. Bad. And it shocked her, how wanton she felt. Priorities, priorities. The only thing that had kept her from falling from her chair into his lap like an overeager poodle had been the knowledge that Hari was still a stranger. A stranger who might push, interpreting her desire as an invitation to do more.
    But Hari had not insisted. He had pulled away, apologizing. Hearing him speak, she wanted to hold him, lay her cheek against his throat. Make no promises , she wanted to say, and yet, she was glad for them—thankful for the vow of distance. Her control around men had always been perfect—distant, even cool—but Hari was a completely different force to be reckoned with.
    She blamed the echo of his spirit still resonating inside her head; he was a part of her in a very intimate way, his presence as familiar as her own, as though she had known him her entire life.
    Disturbing.
    She shook herself, and opened the address book she had just retrieved from her luggage. Using her phone card, Dela placed a call to Roland Dirk in San Francisco.
    Part bear, part lumberjack, and part GI Joe, Roland had been a member of Dela’s inner circle and family for almost ten years. He was dirty, twisted—a criminal mastermind of the lowest order—andone of her favorite people in the entire world. He was also the perfect person to help her.
    It was midnight there (or as her night-owl brother Max liked to say, “freakishly early”), but this counted as an emergency. The phone rang once, twice, and Dela fought panic.
    Come on, you big pussy. Answer the damn —
    “Yo,” Roland groaned. “Whassup? Better be good, ‘cause I was having the best wet dream.”
    Dela rolled her eyes, knowing he could see her and inviting his commentary.
    “Stop that, Del.”
    “I hate you,” she groused affectionately. “Cellulite has more personality.”
    “Especially yours. Now, what d’you want? Must be good, calling from China—unless you finally decided to give in to my demands for phone sex.”
    Ah, pleasantries. “Papers for a friend,” she said, getting down to business. “I need a passport, social security number—the whole works. Plus, an airline ticket out of China. I need to be on the same flight as this individual, so I’ll give you my confirmation number, let you work out the details.”
    A moment of silence. “For a minute there, you sounded like my mother.”
    “No wonder you’re so screwed up.”
    “That’s your brother’s fault. He drives me nuts. You know what crazy shit he’s into this week?”
    “Does it have anything to do with South America?”
    “Right on, babe. He’s down there like some Rambo wannabe, stirring up rival guerilla groups, trying to get them at each other’s throats so he can ferry some kidnapped tourists out of the Amazon. A distraction , he calls it. He’s going to start World War III, just for a simple snatch and grab.”
    “Hmph,” she grunted. “Max can take care of himself. What about those papers?”
    “Jeez. Okay. You needed them yesterday, huh? Something about this friend I should know about?”
    “Nope.”
    “Sure? You know I’m always looking to extend