Free Dragon and the Dove by Tara Janzen Page A

was Chow Sheng. After a short bow
that she performed without conscious intent, she settled into one
of the chairs flanking the large, low table in the middle of
Cooper’s office.
    She sat quietly, absorbing the nuances of
the conversation if not its actual meaning, not quite believing
she’d bowed to the imperious old goat.
    With a clap of Chow Sheng’s hands, tea was
served by two of the bodyguards. She could tell there was a
discussion as to whether or not she should be included. At Cooper’s
indication that she should be served, a cup was offered with only a
modicum of hesitation, just enough to put her in her place as a
woman of little or no rank. She was appropriately offended, but
didn’t let her feelings show.
    The amenities, if they could be called that,
lasted twenty minutes by Jessica’s watch, which she checked
discreetly but often. Then, with no more warning than a shift of
inflection in Chow Sheng’s voice, the atmosphere became charged
with tension.
    Cooper stiffened beside her, and every
bodyguard in the place responded with a not-so-subtle shift in his
stance. All the awareness in the room was focused on the three
people sitting around the table. The tension was palpable, hostile,
and Jessica suddenly understood that she and Cooper were not at a
tea party given by friends.
    Under the table, she felt his foot nudge
hers. She picked up her teacup and took a swallow, instinctively
understanding she was not supposed to react to the new dynamics.
She also understood the other implications of his action: He was
aware of her; he was considering her presence and her safety. Or at
least that’s what she thought before he spoke, this time in
English.
    “I was not aware, Chow Sheng, of your new
status as a lackey dog for the dragon whore.”
    Jessica choked despite her best efforts not
to. They were fighting words if she’d ever heard them, and he was
outnumbered. She quickly decided her wisest game plan would be to
play dumb, defenseless, and inculpable, good guy to his bad
guy.
    “Fang Baolian’s offer is most generous,”
Chow Sheng replied in perfect, unruffled English, pushing himself
out of the deep comfort of the chair. “Five hundred thousand Hong
Kong dollars to forget the unpleasantness between your house and
hers.”
    “Tell her I’ll see her in hell.”
    The Oriental man smiled blandly. “A certain
rashness is required for your business, but of the two brothers, I
always thought you were the more practical. Baolian’s offer will be
available for one week. Send someone if you change your mind.” He
walked around the table toward Jessica’s end, his smile directed at
Cooper as he said something else in Chinese.
    Cooper responded in the same language.
    Chow stopped next to Jessica’s chair and
spoke again, a soft questioning in his voice, his hand moving
gracefully to her shoulder.
    In an instant Cooper was on his feet with
the old man’s wrist manacled in his fist. Total mayhem would have
broken out if Chow hadn’t immediately raised his other hand to
quiet the bodyguards.
    Chow spoke again in Chinese. Cooper replied
in the same language, his voice tight and threatening. When the
older man acknowledged what had been said—by the barest gesture of
his free hand—Cooper released him.
    Studiously ignoring her presence, Chow
clapped his hands twice, and he and his entourage exited through
the reception area, leaving empty teacups and a surfeit of tension
in their wake.
    Jessica slowly rose to her feet and took a
deep breath. She didn’t know which was more disturbing: that Cooper
had risen to her defense, or that she’d needed defending in the
first place. From what, she wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t liked Chow
Sheng touching her.
    She should have listened to George, she
thought, her heart continuing to pound too rapidly for comfort.
Smart money would have her typing out her resignation before she
left that night, it wasn’t too late to jump ship. Now that she’d
seen exactly what