White Tiger

CHAPTER 15

An intern shone his flashlight into Raymond’s eyes, asked her a bunch of questions and seemed pleased with her answers, which pleased Ryker too. He decided to wait outside when they unbuttoned her blouse and exposed the livid purple bruise that had spread across her upper chest and over her shoulder. Thankfully a curtain cut off his view of further discolored flesh, and Raymond’s unblinking stare.

He sat in the waiting area, thinking about what had happened, and about his jangling feelings as he’d sped down Battery with Raymond beside him in the passenger seat, clutching her shoulder and grimacing in pain. He’d ignored the evening rush-hour lunacy of California Street and taken Pine instead, the one-way flow leading in timely fashion to Saint Francis Memorial Hospital. Now he tried to remember where he’d left Morales’s Ford. Somewhere close to the emergency room entrance, maybe. He took heart from the fact the public address system wasn’t demanding that the drunk driver who’d abandoned his vehicle move it so ambulances could get in and out. Nor could he hear a wailing siren or see flashing lights through the glass entrance doors, which suggested he must have turned them off before crashing inside with Raymond in his arms, a regular hero, only he was the chump who’d gotten her into this in the first place.

A sympathetic nurse recognized him and suggested he might want to get something to eat in the hospital cafeteria while they wheeled Raymond through to X-Ray, which sounded like a damn fine idea. He went outside first and called Morales, who told him a forensics team was still on its way to “Amy Wong’s” apartment. Morales offered to lie down and play dead to elicit a quicker response, only half-jokingly. Ryker considered calling Spider to exert pressure on the crime scenes unit, but what would that gain? He had a feeling that fingerprints and DNA weren’t going to be enough for this one. Amy Wong, if that was her name, didn’t play in the jealous ex-lovers league, he was sure of it. She was in another class entirely. When Ryker considered what that class might be, he got a sinking sensation in his gut. He offered Morales commiserations and told him to sit tight.

He called Debbie Price at her desk and asked her to obtain James Lin’s telephone number, and to transfer him to Spider’s office.

“How’s Raymond?” Spider asked, reminding Ryker why he liked him. He’d had previous bosses whose first question would have been, “Haven’t you made an arrest yet?”

“Doc thinks she’s okay but we’re making sure,” Ryker told him. “The suspect put her down with one punch. If me and Morales hadn’t been there, no telling what might have happened.”

“What are you saying, Hal?”

“I think about what she did to Danny Lin, how she got in and out of the hotel, and the way she got past us-Lou, I had her in my sights. She jumped the rail and vanished into thin air. Uniforms didn’t even see her.”

Spider didn’t say anything right away. Ryker just waited. “Damn it, this is starting to sound downright spooky. Spit it out.”

“I think she’s had training. We know she’s Chinese. How about we put the two together?” An ambulance with flashing lights glided past Ryker, on its way to the E.R. entrance. He spotted Morales’s Ford fifty yards away, and was relieved to see it wasn’t causing a major snarl-up. “She isn’t some angry ex-girlfriend of Danny Lin’s. She took on a temporary job at the hotel so she could prepare the kill. When we got to her apartment she was blacked up. Think SWAT, only lightweight. Maybe we caught her in the middle of something — a training session. Or maybe she wears black under her street clothes. I don’t know. She was a shadow, Lou. I couldn’t tell she was human until she stopped moving for a split-second.”

Spider let out an explosion of breath. “Jesus. Are you suggesting she’s, what, a ninja?”

“Ninja are Japanese. But, yeah, maybe we’re talking the Chinese equivalent. There’s a name for them, I can’t remember what it is. The translation goes something like ‘tigers of the night.’“

“Sounds like something out of a bad Kung Fu movie. C’mon, you’re kidding-hold on a second.” Spider’s voice became muffled, evidently he’d clapped his hand over the mouthpiece to speak to someone else in his office. “Sorry, go on. The Chinese ninja theory.”

“Just how much do we know about James Lin? Who does he run with? You think he might have any rivals who’d like to see him dead?”

“We’ve been here already. This is a murder investigation, and the victim is Danny Lin, not his father.”

“And the chick who cut Danny’s dick off is still running loose in the city,” Ryker said. “I’d have to ask why. Me, I’d be on the first plane out of town, not hiding in Danny Lin’s hotel room, breathing blood and shit all night. Unless there was good reason to stay. Unless the job wasn’t finished.”

“Hold onto that theory if it helps you get through the day.” Spider’s skepticism came across loud and clear. “In the real world, what’s our next move?”

“If I think of one, I’ll let you know,” Ryker said. “Morales’s stuck at the apartment until the forensics team shows up. I’m going to check on Raymond. Anything changes, I’ll let you know. How long are you going to be at your desk?”

“I’ve got a meeting with the captain in an hour. At least I can tell him we know what Danny Lin’s murderer looks like.” Spider sighed again. “Your missing her at her apartment was bad luck. No way you could have known for sure you’d find the killer there. But still….”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You should have called in SWAT. You shouldn’t have gone in alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had two detectives and two street cops backing me up. We had enough firepower to bring down an elephant. Let me tell you what I think, Lou. I think SWAT wouldn’t have got us anything except more people in the hospital. Or maybe the morgue.”

“That’s strictly a matter of opinion.”

“Sure, and I’m giving you mine. Just between the two of us? I’m right. I’ll talk to you later.”

“If Jericho doesn’t shoot me first,” Spider said, and hung up.

Ryker called Debbie Price again. “I can’t find a number for James Lin,” she said. “You want me to call someone higher up the tree?”

He thought about it for all of two seconds. Last thing he needed was Jericho crashing into Spider’s office and biting his ear off about hassling James Lin. Or worse, Chief Hallis crashing into Jericho’s office and performing a rectal biopsy. Ryker was glad Debbie had sense enough to ask him first.

“Thanks but no thanks,” he said. “Let’s keep the bloodshed to a minimum. How’s Chee Wei doing?”

“There’s a black-and-white on sentry duty outside, and the older sister is making him dumplings.” Debbie chuckled. “Sounds like a real tough assignment.”

“Yeah, but Fong’s man enough to stick it out to the bitter end. Thanks Debbie, talk to you soon.”

Ryker headed inside, intending to find the hospital cafeteria, but his ringing phone stopped him. Doesn’t anyone know how to send a fucking text message anymore? He resisted the urge to throw the damn thing away, and instead thumbed Accept Call as he turned and exited the building yet again. “Ryker.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“I hope I am not calling at an inconvenient moment, detective sergeant.”

He found a wall and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. Of course, he’d given her his card with his cell phone number. “Not at all, Mrs. Lin. If I sounded a little rude there, I apologize. It’s been an eventful day.”

“I didn’t notice.” She lied beautifully. Her voice was so clear that he expected to see her standing right there in front of him when he opened his eyes again. She wasn’t, much to his disappointment. She said, “You must be wondering why I’m calling you.”

You don’t need an excuse, he thought. “I should imagine you’re curious as to how the investigation is progressing, Mrs. Lin.”

“Yes. Yes, exactly.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I hesitate to reveal details over the phone. There’s a possibility our call could be monitored.” Actually that was a certainty rather than a possibility, though he didn’t imagine Homeland Security’s ever-vigilant telephone monitoring and voice analysis software would tag them as potential terrorists.

“I understand perfectly. Perhaps, if you have time, you might consider coming over? To my house. Have you eaten?”

Ryker didn’t get it, not at first. It took time to sink in, and by then she was saying, “I apologize for my presumptuousness, detective sergeant. I had no right to suggest such a thing. I will leave you to carry out your duties. Please excuse me-”

“No, I haven’t eaten, not yet,” he said quickly. “Listen, Mrs. Lin. I’m at the hospital. The doctors are checking out one of my colleagues. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but I have to stay with her until she’s discharged. If it’s okay with you… if you have no objections… maybe I can call you when I’m free, and arrange to speak with you then?”

He held his breath while he waited for her response.

“Perhaps that would be unwise,” she said, her voice cold now, distanced from him. He could almost imagine shutters coming down, blocking his view of her. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, detective sergeant. Good day.”

Click. Ryker stared at his phone’s “Menu” message in disbelief. She’d hung up, without leaving her phone number so he could call her back. He spun round and kicked the wall. He’d screwed it! She’d called him and all but invited him to dinner, and he’d screwed it.

On top of that, he hadn’t even had the sense to ask for her father-in-law’s phone number. Ryker threw back his head and laughed at his own stupidity. Two nurses on their way into the hospital looked at him, then exchanged smiles with each other. He wondered if they’d be kind enough to direct him to the psychiatric ward.

Okay, so he’d missed two open goals in a row. His immediate priority was still Sandra Raymond. He went to see how she was doing. He walked past a sign that pointed to the hospital cafeteria. He’d lost his appetite. His anger would sustain him for the rest of the day anyway.

The intern who’d examined Raymond was at the nurse’s station flipping through some charts. He recognized Ryker and beckoned him over. “You’re Detective Raymond’s boss?”

“Hal Ryker. How is she?”

“The good news, no broken bones. Bruising looks bad, but that’s just cosmetic, though it’s going to hurt like mad for a few days. We’ve prescribed a course of pain killers.”

Ryker couldn’t believe how lightly Raymond had got off. “Is there any bad news?”

“There’s a weakness in her left arm that’s likely a result of the blow she received. We’re putting it down to localized nervous shock. The pain killers will reduce discomfort, but she’ll have to exercise the arm, stop it seizing up, keep it flexible. We’ll issue Detective Raymond with an information pack before she leaves the hospital. As to how this affects her job, that’s up to you to decide. She’s left-handed, of course.”

Ryker hadn’t realized, but now that he’d been told he thought back to just before they stormed Amy Wong’s apartment. Raymond had indeed held her gun in her left hand and adopted a southpaw marksman’s stance, wrong foot forward. Like it or not, his team had just been reduced by one. He swallowed his disappointment and said, “I’m just glad it’s nothing too serious. Can I see her?”

“Sure.” The intern pointed along the corridor. “Fifth or sixth door on your right, I’ll talk to the staff nurse, secure her release documents, see the prescription’s ready, and let you both get back to work.”

“Thanks, appreciate it.” Ryker found the room easily enough. Raymond sat in a wheelchair, looking very uncomfortable, her arm in a sling. She smiled when he knocked on the door. “Anyone home?”

“Just us invalids,” she said. “Tell me, doc, will I ever play the trombone again?”

He admired her sense of humor. They both knew things could have gone very differently, in many undesirable ways. “How’s the arm?” he asked.

“A little stiff. Did they tell you they’re throwing me out? I’m a classic hypochondriac. They need the beds for sick people. What kind of hospital is this anyway?”

He pulled a chair up beside her and sat down. “I heard. Is there someone at home?”

Raymond squinted at him suspiciously. “That doesn’t mean what I think it means, does it? Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I need an honest answer, Sandra. If we got into a situation that required you to draw your weapon and take down a suspect, how do you think you’d do?”

She touched her shoulder beneath the sling, feeling the muscle. “I’m confident I could handle it. I know I could.” She drew in a breath. “But I’m not one hundred percent positive. Damn, I hate myself for saying that. The way Guy was talking, it could be worse than it feels.”

“Guy? Oh, your handsome young doctor, you’re on first name terms already? I’m impressed.”

Raymond wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Too handsome, too young,” she said. Ryker grinned too; he knew better than to assume she was serious. “You’re going to report me medically unfit, aren’t you?”

“Personal feelings don’t come into it. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I do. I just feel so lame.”

“The last thing I want to do is expose you to danger on the firing line when you’re not fit for duty. Which brings me back to the question-”

“My sister’s always telling me I should visit more often. I guess now’s the time. Heck, she’ll love having a full-time babysitter.” She craned her neck, looking out into the corridor. “Can you tell someone I need a pay phone? Don’t want to use my cell.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to stay. My brother-in-law will come collect me. Hey, you’ll apologize to Sergeant Wallace and Lieutenant Furino for me, won’t you?”

Ryker shook his head. “Nobody’s expecting an apology. You were injured in the line of duty, just as surely as if you were shot. Only this is better, you spared your pal Guy the trouble of having to dig out the bullet. Just between the two of us, he looks like the fainting type.” The corners of her lips turned up. “Why don’t you give them a call yourself? Tell them you’re okay. They’ll be glad to hear it from you personally.”

“I will. I meant it about you not staying. I’m fine. Really.”

Ryker took the hint and left her to her private misery. He asked one of the nurses to make sure Raymond got access to a phone, and exited into the rapidly cooling evening air. He hated hospitals, now more than ever.

She might easily have killed the policeman, at her apartment and here at the hospital, but had decided that the indiscriminate slaughter would dilute the effect of the deaths she had planned for almost three decades. Lin Yubo’s suffering must be pure before he choked upon the taste of her revenge. Nothing must distract him from the fact his immediate family and his closest associates were disappearing around him, until only he remained, stripped naked, alone and vulnerable.

She watched the policeman return to his car. Only the blue-and-white POLICE sign clipped to the sun visor had stopped hospital security from towing the illegally parked vehicle away; two of its wheels intruded onto the sidewalk while the other two lay in a flower bed. He unlocked the driver’s door, but didn’t get in. She held her breath, wondering whether she’d left some trace of her entry behind, as unlikely as this might be. Her hand closed about the butt of the silenced pistol lying beside her on the passenger seat. But his unseeing stare and his blank expression suggested he might be deep in thought, rather than suspicious. She recalled his reaction to the call he’d received on his cell phone. His sudden loss of equilibrium and the sudden flare of temper that had followed the call indicated a highly emotional state. She took her hand off the pistol, and waited.

The policeman shook himself out of whatever mental loop he’d put himself into, and climbed into the driver’s seat. She attached the listening device to her ear and heard him breathing, such was the sensitivity of the radio microphone she’d secreted in his car during his absence. He started the Ford’s engine and backed onto the road. Although there were three cars between them and the probability of his noticing her was close to zero, she slid down in her seat and angled her head to hide her face, keeping only one eye above the dash. He turned around and headed for the exit. She sat upright and started her Toyota’s engine. Its electronic ignition made hardly any sound. She followed the policeman out onto the main road. Other cars slid in front of her, blocking her line of sight, but this didn’t worry her in the slightest. Now that she had established contact with him, and was totally focused on his chi, she could find him blindfolded anywhere in the city. A homing instinct, though neither he nor any Westerner would believe it.

His phone rang. He said, very clearly, “Fuck off.” For a moment she thought he’d spoken into his phone, but the ring tone continued. He hadn’t answered yet. Scraping followed by a dull click suggested he had attached the phone to a hands-free clip on the dash.

“Ryker.” He shouted so his cell phone would pick up his voice.

“Detective sergeant, it’s Debbie Price. I just got the six o’clock call from Detective Fong. Everything’s fine. He knows to call you from now on. How’s Detective Raymond?”

The policeman, identified now as Detective Sergeant Ryker (she rolled the sounds around her tongue as she memorized his name), said, “She’s sitting up and smiling. She’s going to call Lieutenant Furino and Detective Sergeant Wallace, let them know she’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh good. I’ll let everyone know.”

“That’s great. You have a good night, Debbie.”

“Thanks, you too. See you tomorrow.”

The phone call ended. He continued driving, heading back to her apartment, she was sure, and she continued to follow him. Her training demanded that she should never go there again, that the location was blown, that someone might recognize her and in doing so, compromise her own safety. But she had an opportunity to learn what the police already knew of her, which might well improve her chances of completing her mission successfully. This made the risk acceptable, though she could not afford to relax for a second. If anything threatened to compromise her then she might have to change her stance on killing only those close to Lin Yubo. She would prefer not to widen the circle of death but she might not have a choice in the matter. Circumstances would dictate her response to any action by the police, or by those elements employed by Lin Yubo who might choose to intrude into her space, alerted perhaps by information fed to them by the police. Risks within risks within risks, only to be expected as she moved toward the end game, gathering speed and momentum. She would react explosively to any attempt to interfere with her plans. Those who dared move against her, or chose to stand in her way, would not live to regret their foolhardy decision.

He surprised her by taking a hard left just as the lights ahead began to change. She put her foot down and negotiated the junction just as waiting traffic surged forward. The sound of angry horns faded behind her. She had memorized the city’s street grid so she knew precisely where they were, and which direction they were traveling. West along Jackson, above and parallel with California Street. Apparently he had changed his mind about returning to her apartment. Where was he going, and why? She considered the possibilities. Guessing served no purpose other than to serve as a distraction, since she had three hours to kill before tonight’s scheduled conference, which she had every intention of attending. She could not return to her apartment, and obtaining alternative temporary accommodation in the city carried an additional element of risk, since they would expect her to do just this. She followed him not only to gain information that could be of value, but also because she had nowhere else to go.

Ryker became aware that he was muttering to himself under his breath. Bad habit. But an indication of his awareness that he could be committing professional suicide. So be it. He’d made the decision and he’d live with the consequences. He drove on autopilot, and that infallible inner mechanism took him back to Valerie Lin’s house in Sea Cliff district. During the long journey-it seemed to take hours — he replayed what she’d said to him when she called him at the hospital. She’d wanted to talk to him. Why? Then she’d abruptly changed her mind. Why? Those questions refused to be ignored. They demanded answers, if only to quell the pounding in his ears. His pulse was racing, his mouth was dry. It wasn’t too late to turn back; wasn’t too late to avoid what would be the most embarrassing moment of his life, when he confronted one of her servants at the door and they told him Mrs. Lin would much prefer if he made an appointment instead of turning up at her home unannounced and unwelcome.

Spider would suspend him. Captain Jerko would demand his badge. The D.A. and whatever government departments wanted James Lin and his family protected from idiots like Hal Ryker would throw him in jail. What the hell was he doing here? He didn’t know. He doubted his own sanity. He kissed goodbye to his future with SFPD and walked up the driveway, up the steps, across the porch, and to the front door of a woman he could never have even if he lived a thousand lifetimes.

His finger stabbed the doorbell.

He expected the maid, or the gardener, or someone who would tell him to go away. He didn’t expect Valerie Lin to open her own door and stare at him with dark, unblinking eyes that held the key to the universe. She wore a black silk shirt with a high collar. An ivory comb secured her hair, exposing her graceful neck. Her expression and her body language gave nothing away. He wanted her to say something; she didn’t. It was up to him to dig his own grave.

“I’m sorry to trouble you,” he said.

“Are you?” Her harsh tone surprised him; he hadn’t expected that.

“If this is a bad time for you, if I’m interrupting something-”

She turned and walked along the hallway, leaving the door open. An invitation? He took it as such, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. He looked upstairs, and into adjoining rooms. No sign of anyone. Valerie Lin disappeared into the living room. He followed her, and braced himself for a tirade of histrionic shouting, a delayed reaction to his delivering the news of her husband’s death. Was this why he’d driven here? Was he obeying some subliminal instinct that knew she had to let off steam before she exploded?

In the living room she touched a button that caused the curtains to close, blocking the view of the garden and the sea beyond. Dim yellow wall lights came on automatically, illuminating the ceiling and casting a soft glow over the room. She walked to a wooden cabinet and opened its doors.

“What would you like to drink, Detective Sergeant?”

“I’m on duty. Thanks anyway, Mrs. Lin.”

“You don’t mind if I have one?”

“Help yourself.” His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He wanted to ask for some water but sensed that something was going on, something damn weird.

She opened a bottle and half-filled a tumbler glass. She added ice and lemon and a splash of something else he didn’t see. She turned to face him. She leaned back against the cabinet and folded her arms, swilling the drink in the glass. She took a sip, apparently found it to her liking, took another.

“Before my husband died, this would have been utterly unthinkable,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what “this” was so he kept his mouth shut, let her do the talking.

“Allowing a stranger into our house. A man. A white.” She swirled her drink, the ice cubes clinked. “And drinking alcohol. Shocking. Forbidden. For guests only. Never for the dutiful wife.” This time she took a mouthful, closing her eyes. “I dismissed my servants for the night. I wanted to be alone. Or thought I did. They will not leave their quarters unless I call them. Should I call them?”

Ryker shook his head, feeling helpless. “I don’t know, Mrs. Lin. Do you need them for something?”

“I need them, Detective Sergeant, to restore my sense of duty and obligation. I need them to help preserve my honor. I need them so I will remember who and what I am. My husband is dead.” She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “My husband is dead.” She opened her eyes again, and held him spellbound with her unblinking gaze. “His ghost is doomed to walk the earth until he is avenged. He is here, watching us, listening to our conversation. He disapproves of our meeting under these circumstances. He wishes you to leave, at once.” She almost shouted the words.

Ryker didn’t know what she was drinking, but he knew it wasn’t doing her any good. He took the glass from her hand and put it down on top of the cabinet. “Take my advice, Mrs. Lin. Lay off the juice and get some sleep.”

She slapped his face with enough power to make him stagger. He hadn’t sensed the blow coming, it was totally spontaneous, unplanned, unavoidable. The side of his face felt numb.

“How dare you?” she said. “I am not a child.”

“No, you’re not.” The numbness faded, replaced by what felt like scalding heat.

“You will not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Only my husband may command me. Only he. No one else.”

He felt enormous pity for her. He’d been right, she had wanted him here, but not for any of the reasons he’d imagined. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’ll see myself out.”

She brushed past him even as he turned away and reached the living room door before him. She slammed it shut and stood there with her back to him, one hand against the door, her shoulders heaving as she sucked in air. He didn’t know if she wanted him to pull her hand away, open the door, and leave. Or whether she wanted him to stay.

Her hands worked at the front of her jacket. They moved down, lower, lower still. She gave a little shrug and the black silk slid off her shoulders revealing creamy flesh beneath, and a pattern of three tiny birthmarks over her left shoulder blade. She kept her arms in the sleeves so the jacket hung from her waist. If she wanted to, she could pull it up again and cover herself. If she wanted to, she could turn round and show him her breasts.

He wasn’t surprised at his reaction. His cock tried to rip its way out of his pants to get to her. But what did she want? His hands on her? Or was she about to lose it and cry rape?

He’d played things cautiously all his life and gotten nowhere. He crossed to her in two long strides and pulled her round to face him. Her eyes were huge, filled with surprise and want. He pulled her against him, covered her lips with his. His hands caressed her naked back, loving the cool touch of her skin. She moaned into his mouth as he moved his fingertips in small circles. He drew swirling patterns up and down her spine and she arched her back. She stuck her stiff tongue into his mouth. He thanked God he’d chewed a fresh mint on the way over here because her tongue tried to follow it down his throat. He became aware that the jacket was gone, probably lying at their feet. Her hands fumbled at her waist, brushing against his pants. She gasped and became motionless. He opened his eyes, found himself staring into hers. Her fingers clamped themselves around his rigid prick, feeling him through the wool-cotton material, seeking the outline of him behind his zipper. She squeezed him so tightly that he instinctively jerked his hips back and stepped away, afraid he’d come. He saw now that she’d loosened the drawstring holding her pants up. The black silk slid down around her ankles. Underneath she wore nothing. Her waist was tiny. Her hips divine. Her legs shapely with defined muscle. His gaze fixed upon the shiny black triangle that marked the entrance to her sex. Even from here he could smell her desire. Her gaze in turn was locked to his crotch. She covered her mouth with both hands. He’d never felt so hard before. He hoped his pants made his prick look bigger. Judging from her shocked expression, it did.

Before she had a chance to change her mind — if such a possibility existed — he wrapped his arms around her and physically carried her to the couch. She weighed almost nothing. He laid her naked, trembling body down on the soft leather and stood over her, unbuckling his pants while she watched. He maneuvered his zipper around his pulsing totem pole, careful not to rip his foreskin off, which would be an inauspicious start to their lovemaking — a thought that almost had him giggling like a nervous schoolboy about to make it to third base with the school bike. He put his kidney holster, badge, cuffs and phones on the floor and pushed them away with his foot. He slid his pants and his shorts down his legs. He slipped off a shoe, intending to step out of his pants and join her on the couch.

Before he could, she sat bolt upright, grabbed hold of his buttocks, pulled his hips forward and fastened her lips over his cock head. Not that he didn’t want her to but he had other plans-

plans that didn’t involve her devouring his cock as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. He tried to pull her head away as gently as he could, but she was clamped onto him like a leech and clearly had no intention of letting go. His plans turned to shit as her furious sucking brought him to his peak in record time. Every muscle in his body trembled in ecstasy as he leaned back slightly and shot his volcanic payload into orbit. She gurgled and choked and jerked her head away, a scattered spider-web of semen joining her chin to his still-throbbing cock. She looked up at him and he looked down at her, equally surprised. She giggled with delight and covered her face with both hands again — then realized her mistake, that she’d just made matters worse. Her fingers came away covered in his essence. She stared at her own hands with bemusement, if he interpreted her expression correctly. He could hardly do anything except gasp for breath and hope he didn’t keel over. He’d never felt so embarrassed in his life.

She picked up her black silk pants and while she maintained eye contact with him, she carefully wiped him clean. The touch of the cool silk against his over-sensitive prick sent shivers through his body. When she was finished she wiped the cum-drool off her chin and the dribbles off her breasts. She tossed the pants away and stood up. She pressed herself against him, careful not to injure his most vulnerable part. She rested her head against his chest and said, “I had forgotten what a man tastes like.”

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he told her. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She drew back and looked at him. “For what?”

He opened his mouth to explain but couldn’t find the right words.

She put her head against him again and he felt her shake. Realized she was laughing. “You think you have disappointed me? You could not possibly be further from the truth.” The shaking subsided. Her voice became more serious. “I begged the gods to allow you to come to me tonight. I offered them everything. I offered them my own life to be allowed just one night in the company of a man who finds me attractive, who is not so disgusted with me that he would rather rut with whores than share a bed with me.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I don’t understand at all. Why would your husband treat you like that? Why would he even look at someone else?”

“You found her attractive, didn’t you? The woman who made love to Lin Dan before he died. Zhu Xiaohui. Isn’t that her name?”

“Yes and no.” Ryker instinctively held her at arm’s length so he could see her face and he could see his. “I can see how men would find her desirable. But the truth is, she didn’t press my buttons. Not like you did. Not like you’re doing right now.”

She shook her head with obvious disbelief. “Are you trying to tell me you would rather be with me than her? That’s absurd. She knows everything about pleasing a man.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Each to their own. I’ve told you the truth. Yeah, looks-wise, she’s okay. But as far as pleasing a man goes, I really have to say, you’re not so bad yourself. If I’m not making myself clear, that’s a compliment. A very big compliment.”

She came to him again and this time, as well as putting her head against his chest, she encircled his waist with her arms, which surprised him, in a pleasant way.

“Yesterday,” she said. “When we met for the first time. What did you think of me?”

“I’m afraid to tell you.”

“How can you be afraid, after what we just did? I still have your taste in my mouth.” She purred against him, soft and sensual and very naked. Her hand moved down and reached underneath, and her sharp little fingernails raked his scrotum, a slow, pleasurable sensation. Against all expectations he felt a stirring in what he thought was dead tissue. “I don’t wish to put you under any pressure, Detective Sergeant,” she said, “but it is my hope that you may become erect again very soon.” She clawed him again. Heat diffused his cock, which felt heavier. “You have pleasured my mouth. I wish you also to pleasure my cunt. But first… what did you think of me?”

“What did I think of you?” He had to swallow hard before he could speak. She did it again and this time her fingernails continued up, clawing the underside of his swelling cock, stopping just before the head, as if she knew he was still too sensitive there. “I was mesmerized. Fixated. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Every movement you made, every gesture. Every word you spoke.”

“Were you aroused?”

She knew. She knew and she was playing with him. He glanced at the floor, checking exactly where he’d left his gun holster. If a gang of Chinese thugs kicked the door open and came at him, he’d get off a couple of shots before they took him down. Jesus, Ryker, you are one suspicious bastard! This couldn’t possibly be part of some twisted revenge plan she’d concocted because he’d insulted her.

“Yes,” he said. “I was very aroused.”

Her fingers, over his tight ball-sack, up his rigid cock, around the rim of his engorged head. “I thought so.” She chuckled. “I couldn’t be sure. It was only after you left that I had time to think, to go over our meeting in more detail.”

“Now you know. Are you angry?”

“Angry? Because you became hard at the sight of me? No, I see what you mean. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The circumstances were less than ideal. My husband had died. You were the bearer of sad tidings. You carried out your duty well. And you were honest with me. I remember that too. Please, I can’t wait any longer. Please….”

He put his hands around her tiny waist and lifted her up off the floor. She put her arms around his neck and drew her knees up to her chest. They enjoyed an exquisite moment where his swollen and eager cock head hovered directly beneath her wet and fully open sex, just barely touching her labia with every beat of his heart. Her breath came in desperate gasps. Sweat ran down her face. He lowered her onto his pole. Her furnace enclosed him totally. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Without warning she let go of his neck and leaned completely back, so he had to hold her hips to stop her from falling off. Whimpering noises escaped from her throat. He moved her up and down, hoping he was doing the right thing. Her insides clamped about him, giving him a clue. He kept at it, hoping his heart didn’t give out before she took her pleasure.