Donovans 02 - Jade Island

so fast her feet barely touched the floor. He kept going until they were beyond the well-lighted building and down a side walkway. Soon they were hidden in the shadows leading to the hotel’s underground garage.
    Kyle stopped and held Lianne motionless against his chest. Over her head he watched the empty walkway they had just hurried down.
    “What are you—” she began.
    “Be still,” he whispered.
    Shivering in the chill, she waited quietly, watching his eyes for any sign that they were being followed. All she saw was a faint gleam of reflected moonlight in a face that was uncompromising, chiseled out of shadow and ice.He looked barbaric, cruel, an ancient Viking wolf dressed as a civilized modern lamb.
    The part of Lianne’s mind that wasn’t shell-shocked over the jade suit told her that she must be out of her mind to trust Kyle Donovan.
    She must be out of her mind, period. She would have to be crazy to believe that Wen had parted with the very core of his treasury—a jade burial suit, the only such artifact in private hands.
    “Don’t look so worried,” Kyle said, his voice a bare thread of sound. “I won’t let anyone get to you.”
    Lianne almost laughed out loud. Don’t worry.
    The only way she could do that was to shove all thought of Wen and stolen jade into a corner of her mind. She would worry about it later, when she was calmer. It would make sense then, when she knew more.
    It would be all right.
    Gradually Lianne’s body became less tense as she fell into old patterns of handling trouble. The ability to divide her mind and then get on with the needs of the moment was something she had developed as a girl, when the hurt of not being accepted by her father threatened to tear her apart. She had honed the ability, and her self-respect, with karate, mental and physical control combined.
    Yet even years of training couldn’t prevent the shiver that rippled through Lianne a few minutes later. She told herself it was the cool wind or leftover nerves, but she knew it was the slow, slow journey of Kyle’s fingertips down her spine. Each time he touched a new indentation or slight ridge, his hand lingered as though memorizing it.
    “Cold?” he asked quietly.
    “You try standing around out here in silk underwear in March,” she said under her breath. “Of course I’m cold.”
    “Underwear? I didn’t—” Kyle stopped abruptly. He doubted Lianne would enjoy being told that he hadn’t felt anything under his fingertips but a thin layer of silk and a much warmer layer of woman. “Sorry. I didn’t thinkabout the temperature. We’ll go back in soon. It doesn’t look like he took the bait anyway.”
    “Maybe there was no one to take the bait. Maybe I was just imagining things earlier and you were imagining things now.”
    “Maybe,” Kyle said. But the watchfulness of his eyes said otherwise.
    “What makes you so sure we’re not imagining things?” Lianne murmured, her voice as low and secretive as his.
    “My gut.”
    “Your gut?”
    “Yeah. It’s restless.”
    “Have you tried antacids?”
    He laughed softly, shaking his head just a bit. Then he went completely still.
    “What—” She couldn’t finish the question. Her mouth was smack up against the black cloth of his tuxedo.
    “Quiet,” Kyle breathed.
    Holding both of them motionless in the shadows, he watched the figure that came out of the side door and stepped immediately to the left. A man. Medium height. Black tux. No way to see how it fit him.
    Light flared, then snuffed out. The match had been shielded in such a way that Kyle saw only a brief glow against the man’s jaw. No beard. No mustache. The burning pinpoint of a cigarette went from red to gold to red again as the man sucked in smoke. He took several more quick drags, flicked the cigarette into some shrubbery, and went back inside.
    Kyle waited until he was certain that the man wasn’t coming back.
    “Okay,” he said quietly, releasing Lianne. “Let’s go in before you freeze to death.”
    “Suffocate.”
    “What?”
    “I would have suffocated before I froze. Do you have any idea what raw tuxedo tastes like?”
    “Nope.” Kyle smiled and barely caught himself beforehe smoothed his hand down Lianne’s back all the way to her sleek, tempting butt. “I always have mine well done,” he explained, leading her back onto the lighted path.
    “Was he trying to follow us?” she asked, ignoring Kyle’s teasing tone.
    “Hard to say. He could have raced