Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

relentlessly, zipping up his pants with a quick jerk. “Most of all, the child will know me.” He buttoned his shirt with quick flicks of his fingers. “If that upsets you, I regret it, but it’s not negotiable. If you wanted a child without complications, you should have gone to a sperm bank.”
    “But I—”
    “See that intercom?” he cut in, pointing to a lighted panel on the wall by the bed.
    She nodded.
    “If you want protection or sex, punch number six.”

Seventeen
    I an Chang shut off his car engine and got out while the red dust was still boiling up toward the gunmetal sky. As he strode over the walkway to the verandah, he ran through all the points his father wanted him to cover with Hannah McGarry—who was buying what, who was selling what, and the gradations of threat to apply at each point in the negotiation.
    Sam Chang wanted Pearl Cove, even if it meant partnership with Donald Donovan’s Number One Son.
    Unfortunately Hannah had refused to answer her phone or return messages left on her answering machine, which meant that Ian Chang had been forced to make the boring drive from Broome just to talk to her. Irritated, he knocked hard enough to rattle the verandah door on its hinges. The thunderous sound startled a flock of cockatoos. They took off in a swirling, darting, shrieking cloud of white.
    It was the only response Chang’s knock got.
    “Hannah, it’s Ian,” he said loudly. “Let me in.”
    No one answered. It was the same for the back door. Nothing but silence and the muted echo of his fist thumping on the door. Cursing in a sizzling mix of Cantonese and English, Chang lit a cigarette and headed for the scattering of cottages where the workers lived.
    Coco waited on the front porch of the third cottage, leaning languidly against the wall. She had been leaning there since she saw Chang’s car roar up to the McGarry house. She could have saved him the trip down to the cottages, just as she could have saved him the trip to Pearl Cove by returning the messages she had listened to in the middle of the night, when no one would notice her inside the McGarry house.
    But Coco wasn’t in a mood to save anyone trouble. She was in a mood to cause it. Especially with Ian Chang, who had forgotten their date a few nights ago. She wasn’t used to a man forgetting her. Just as she wasn’t used to a man looking past her to Len McGarry’s pale, sexless wife. The memory still stung.
    “Is Hannah diving again?” Chang demanded in English without so much as a greeting.
    “No.”
    “Is she in what’s left of the sheds?”
    “No.”
    “Then where the hell is she?” He drew in smoke and sent it out again in a rush of silver.
    Coco shrugged, but her black eyes gleamed with cold amusement. She liked seeing Chang upset. “She gone.”
    “What do you mean, she’s gone?”
    The angry demand in his voice was like wine to Coco. She had his full attention now. “Just that. Gone. Fffft.”
    “Where?” he snarled. “Did Christian get her?”
    Laughter that was both soft and hard curled out of Coco. “No, it is Donovan.”
    Uneasiness cooled Chang’s anger. He took another pull on the cigarette, swallowed smoke, and let his temper damp down. “She’s with Donovan?”
    “Oui. They go to Broome and never come back. Cable Beach, mmmm, the rooms grand and the sheets ver’ cool and smooth.” She took the cigarette from him, sucked deeply, and returned it. Then she licked her lips with the deliberation of a cat grooming itself. “Maybe they in bed still, yes? He is a ver’ potent man. Long time since she was a woman.”
    Chang didn’t like to think about it—Hannah and Archer, the tangle of legs and musky sweat and pumping hips. “You should have called me.”
    “But why?” She smiled with pure malice at what she saw in Chang’s expression. She asked in French, “Did you lust to see how well he fills the hole between Sister McGarry’s white legs?”
    Chang flipped the burning cigarette onto the ground between Coco’s bare feet. His left hand shot out and wrapped around her throat. “Don’t play the bitch with me. I haven’t time for it. Where is Hannah?”
    “Where is Donovan?” Coco countered, amused.
    His fingers tightened enough to leave marks on her tan skin. “If I find out that you knew more than you told me, you’ll be stuck with your half sister back on an atoll in Tahiti that’s smaller than your ass. Do you understand me?”
    Smiling, she inched closer to Chang,