Donovans 02 - Jade Island

available girl, Kyle had piled her plate high with food. “This should hold me for a week.”
    “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out.”
    “Translation: if I don’t eat fast, there won’t be much left for me.”
    “You got it. Hold these for a minute,” he added, handing her the beers. As soon as she took them, he snitched a spring roll off her plate and ate it before she could object. “Better stop talking and start eating, or all you’ll get out of this is a dirty plate,” he said, licking his lips and reaching for another roll.
    When Lianne realized she couldn’t eat because her hands were full, and Kyle was rapidly devouring her food, she laughed out loud and forcefully handed the beers back to him. Her open, quintessentially American laughter made several heads turn. She didn’t even notice. She was having too much fun with her sexy, surprising stuffed elephant.
    Kyle winked at her as he gently, efficiently, herded her away from the buffet table. He chose a place where he could stand with his back to a wall and still be close enough to the doorway for a fast exit. It was Archer’s First Rule of Parties: Pick where you want to be when the fighting starts. Kyle didn’t really expect a brawl to begin any time soon, but there was no percentage in being a naive, trusting stranger in a strange land. In short, an American outside America.
    The Towers might have been in Seattle, and Seattle in the U.S.A., but right now the penthouse was a ripe, smoky slice of Hong Kong before the Turnover.
    Letting the gusts of Chinese flow past him, watching the party, willing his aroused body to relax, Kyle ate quickly. Though the language, music, and food were uniformly Chinese, everyone—even the bent, white-haired ancient at the other end of the room—was dressed in Western clothing. Kyle didn’t have to understand thewords to see that there was a clear pecking order among the men. Yet none of them acted like a bodyguard or employee.
    The furniture was Western, with couches, overstuffed chairs, and coffee tables. The design of the fabric was a stylized cloud pattern that could have been taken right off an ancient Chinese robe. Nondescript incense burners added to the smoke in the living room without managing to cover the harsh smell of tobacco. Young women circulated like bright, honey-seeking butterflies. Though there was no difference in the richness of male plumage, each girl knew who was where in the pecking order.
    Wen was first. He had a girl playing the guitar at his feet and, as often as not, another hostess at his elbow feeding him. In Wen’s case, the service was probably necessary; the hands that rested on an intricately carved, jade-headed walking stick were gnarled and enlarged by arthritis. Holding chopsticks would have been difficult for him. If the way he stared straight ahead was any indication, seeing the plate would have been impossible.
    The second most important man in the room was never far from Wen. Whether this man sat or stood, a hostess was always at his elbow, ready to fetch food or drink as required. She looked older than the others, more woman than girl. And a stunning woman at that. Elegant limbs and a richly curved body. She wore a spectacular diamond-and-ruby bracelet that almost equaled her own physical beauty.
    “The man in the corner,” Kyle said quietly to Lianne. “The one close to Wen. Who is he?”
    Lianne glanced over. “That’s Harry Tang, Wen’s Number Two Son.”
    “And from the look of it, his Number One Girl is right next to him,” Kyle said, biting into a dumpling filled with pork and ginger.
    “I don’t know her name. Assuming she has one.”
    He didn’t miss the flick of anger in Lianne’s voice. “Ifthat bracelet she’s wearing is any sign.” he said, “Harry has known her name for a long time.”
    Mentally Lianne gave herself a shake. She had to stop reacting to this “family” gathering like a child who had just found out why she didn’t have a live-in father. There was no need for her to be so raw about the circumstances of her birth. Her mother had made her choice long ago, a choice that her daughter didn’t have to understand but had to live with anyway.
    As though they had nothing to do with her, Lianne looked coolly at Harry and his beautiful ornament. Kyle was right. This woman wasn’t a one-night hostess. She knew Harry well enough to anticipate his demands and still have enough attention left to oversee the rest of the girls in the