Donovans 02 - Jade Island

United States government influenced the decision. They want Lianne Blakely to be free.”
    “Why?”
    “To lead them to the Jade Emperor’s Tomb. To us .”
    The first man put his head in his hands and wished he had never thought to rob from one in order to pay another. “I am doomed.”
    “You have less courage than a woman,” the second man said, turning away in disgust. “I will see that she talks to no one.”
    “How?”
    “Do you care?”
    The first man said no more. All he cared was that the threat go away. He told himself what he always did when he found himself without money and thugs were breathing down his neck demanding payment of loans.
    Just one more time. Just this once. Then I will stop and no one will ever know .

Chapter 17
    L ianne looked pale and much too tightly strung as Kyle helped her into his car. Her own little Toyota had been impounded. It would stay that way until the smuggling charges against her were dropped. If she was convicted, the car belonged to the Feds. Vehicles used in smuggling were routinely seized by the law.
    “Thank—” she began.
    “If you thank me one more time,” Kyle cut in savagely, “I’m going to gag you.”
    He might have felt less guilty if Lianne hadn’t lit up like a Christmas church the instant she saw him walking toward her. She wasn’t able to hug him because of the handcuffs, but she had burrowed against him like a small animal seeking shelter.
    Even while he had held her, wanting to comfort her, part of Kyle knew that he was using Lianne as much as he was setting her free. The knowledge had put a brutal edge on his temper. Telling himself that he had to find out what she knew in order to help her didn’t ease his guilt. Or his anger.
    Wind raked through his hair, the same wind that had surprised the weather guessers by clearing the skies, turning spring gloom into a luminous golden afternoon.
    Kyle slammed the passenger door and went around to the driver’s side, telling himself to take it easy every step of the way. Letting loose his anger wouldn’t help a bit.He had almost decked the officious prick who insisted on keeping Lianne in handcuffs until the last sheet of paper was signed. The bureaucrat hadn’t been in any hurry to get the paperwork done, either. It had taken an unreasonably long time to get Lianne her freedom.
    If Kyle had been a suspicious, untrusting, cynical sort, he would have thought the Feds were doing everything they could to drag out the process. Like maybe they needed time to set up a 24-7 tail on her. Even Uncle had to shuffle things around to put a watch on someone twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
    And even if Lianne didn’t end up dragging Uncle’s agents behind her like a ball and chain, she wasn’t really free. Set one foot beyond the boundaries of the U.S. and she would be back in jail again.
    But at least she wasn’t wearing handcuffs.
    Kyle just managed not to slam the car door after he got in. He jammed his seat belt on, shoved the key in the ignition, and looked over at Lianne,
    “Fasten your seat belt,” he said. His voice was too rough, but Lianne didn’t seem to notice. That bothered him most of all. She was too grateful to tell him to shove it when he chewed on her for no better reason than she was there and he was mad clear through.
    Lianne reached for the seat belt, then stopped, staring at her hands as though she didn’t recognize them. Despite a lot of scrubbing, the ink that had been used to fingerprint her still lay like a thin black moon along the undersides of her nails. She curled her fingers to hide the shameful stains.
    “Seat belt, Lianne.”
    When she simply kept on staring at her hands, Kyle reached over and fastened her belt himself. She smelled more institutional than fresh, more like disinfectant and fear than rain and flowers. The black pantsuit she had taken from her overnight case this morning at his cabin was crumpled from use and vaguely dusty, as though some of the places where she had been sitting lately weren’tvery clean. Her hair was in disarray around her shoulders. Her jade hairpicks had been confiscated until their true ownership could be determined.
    Lianne looked at her hands. Fists, really. They ached from being clenched. Like her jaw. Like her throat, closed around screams of rage and pain and fear.
    The grandfather she loved and had worked so hard to please believed she was a thief.
    “I didn’t do it,” she said hoarsely.
    “That’s what we