Belladonna, page 16
“Melina, Matthew’s mother, was not Chinese,” Chen-Li revealed after the boy had scampered off. “When she married my grandson, she strove to learn our ways. She had great talent and great beauty.” He kept his gnarled hands calmly clasped in his lap. “The Birds took her eight and half years ago, when Matthew was a baby.”
A chill crawled over Bella’s skin as the old man closed his eyes.
“I knew of their operation, yet, like many down here, I turned a blind eye to it. The Birds did not bother us and we did not bother them. It is less like that today, but still they are mostly free to perform their evil deeds.
“The day Melina disappeared, my grandson, Yung, became enraged. He searched through all of Chinatown, with the exception of the Birds’ warehouse here, their fireworks factory in Ton Alley and of course, the House of Mann…. Mannequins,” he clarified, at Bella’s puzzled look.
“I take it he never found her.” Malone reluctantly accepted the cup of green herbal tea that Chen-Li passed to him.
“Yung was one man, alone and upset. His mind was not clear. He had only his purpose to drive him, and the Birds are notoriously thorough.”
“Couldn’t he have gone to the police?” Bella asked.
“The Birds learned many years ago how to evade the authorities. Perhaps a few of them are paid to look the other way. I only know that Melina was taken, Yung was distraught and the result was that Melina died attempting to escape. Melina and three other women. Their bodies were discovered floating in the bay. They were strangled, then placed in the water.”
Malone frowned first at his teacup, then at Chen-Li. “How do you know the Birds were responsible?”
For an answer, the old man tapped his temple. “I have knowledge of many things. You ask me did I contact the police, and I will tell you now that I did, yes. Once. But few people believe in mysticism and magic anymore. They said I was an old fool, that Melina simply left Yung for another man. I know the Birds kidnapped her, yet the authorities insist that she was murdered by person or persons unknown, likely for the modest sum of money she carried the night she went missing.”
Bella wanted to ask about Yung’s fate, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she edged closer to Malone on the sofa. Whether consciously or not, he wrapped his warm fingers around her cooler ones.
A sad smile touched Chen-Li’s lips. “Yung grew reckless after Melina’s death. He loved Matthew very much, but Melina had for many years been his main reason for living. He drove his car into the back of a truck one night on the Golden Gate Bridge. It was foggy and he was not obeying the speed signs. The accident happened at 8:13 p.m. on a Friday, but the police did not have to telephone for me to know that, because at precisely 8:13 a raven came to perch on my windowsill.”
“Is that an omen?” Bella asked.
“It is a sign of death, Miss Conlan.” Folding his hands inside the bell of his sleeves, he surveyed her through half-closed eyes. “I saw another raven today. It didn’t land, but glided slowly past my window. Death will be indirect this time, nevertheless, it has been portended. You must take care, Bella Conlan, and you as well, Mr. Malone. For tonight, I feel you may be safe, but for tomorrow night, I cannot say. It will be the eve of the New Year for you. I only hope that you will both live to see it, and that the raven will not land in your path.”
Bella recalled the raven discovered at the scene of the accident that had taken her mother’s life, but decided that was silly. Ravens couldn’t possibly portend death. She resisted the urge to help Chen-Li as he stood.
Malone rose as well. “Thank you for your hospitality, Chen-Li,” he said politely. “You’ve put yourself and Matthew at great risk for us.”
The old man summoned a modest smile. “To thwart the Birds, I would risk a great deal more.” He inclined his head. “Sleep well, both of you. You will find the stairway to the attic at the rear of the kitchen. Please help yourselves to anything you need. Fortune willing, we will speak again tomorrow.”
Small, dignified footsteps carried him almost silently across the floor and through the beaded curtain. Bella waited until she heard his bedroom door click shut before rising herself.
A bed and a pallet, Chen-Li had said. Heaven knew, with all the turmoil in her head, she should leave it at that. But logic, like her memory, was a fickle thing. And Malone had risked his life in a big way for her tonight.
Moving with deliberate seductiveness, she switched off the lamps. In the glow that filtered up from the alley, Malone watched her. He reminded her very much of the raven ChenLi had mentioned, except that he posed no physical danger to her, only danger to her heart.
“Do you want to go up?” she asked, and in the dusky shadows, she thought she saw a glimmer of unease in his eyes.
“I suppose….” He drew his answer out slowly, at the same time eyeing her with circumspection.
For most men that response wouldn’t have meant much. Coming from Malone, it meant a lot. Smiling, Bella held out her hand.
He hesitated, “Bella…” he began, then sighed and met her halfway.
No death tonight, Bella thought, moving closer to him. Chen-Li had hinted that they would be safe. But he’d also said something else, and the memory of it struck her with a suddenness that brought her to a halt in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Miss Conlan,” she repeated, and turned to look up at Malone.
“He called me Miss Conlan.”
“I don’t think he’d be familiar with the concept of Ms., Bella.”
“That isn’t what I mean. I told Matthew my name was Bella. That’s how he introduced me to Chen-Li.”
“So?”
He sounded mildly impatient now, and Bella, gripping the front of his shirt, shook him to emphasize her point. “So,” she countered softly, “I never told either of them my last name. How did Chen-Li know I was Bella Conlan?”
“CHARMAINE. Charmai—oh, my God!” The woman jumped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on me like that. Where have you been, anyway? I’ve been searching for you for hours. Please don’t tell me you’ve been talking with Dr. Peters again.”
“I have.” Shedding her coat, Charmaine hung it on the brass rack and, in an uncharacteristic move, slowly peeled off her black wig. “I don’t expect you to understand my. feelings at this point in your life, but you will. One day you, of all people, surely will. What do you want?”
“Hobby.”
Charmaine gave a short laugh. “Well, don’t look at me. I haven’t got him.”
“I know. That’s the problem.” The woman controlled her exasperation at Charmaine’s disinterest. “He got to your precious Tic-Tac, did you know that?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. What did he do?”
“Hobby paid Tic-Tac to bring Bella to the warehouse. He was going to ship her off to China.”
Charmaine fluffed her naturally blond hair with her fingers. There was gray creeping in, the woman noted smugly. No one, not even Dr. Peters, could stop the clock forever.
“You were supposed to deal with him, Charmaine,” she said, giving her own hair a pat. “Instead, Hobby’s on the loose. God only knows where Rudge is because he checked himself out of the hospital late this afternoon, Malone ran Tic-Tac into a giant dragon, which in turn had Tic-Tac running to the phone to beg me for mercy, and then, to top it all off, Bella got away.”
“I see.”
“That’s it? I see? That’s all you have to say?” The woman flung out an angry arm. “No ‘Tic-Tac’s an ass’ or ‘Where did Bella go?’ or, worst of all, ‘How much do you think Hobby told her?’”
Charmaine lit a cigarette. “Nothing,” she said calmly.
“You sound like an oracle. How do you know he didn’t tell her anything?”
“I know him.”
Hands on her hips, the woman glared. “Well, I know him, too, Charmaine. He’s a cold fish, with one and only one exception. We have to get him before he gets us. If you insist on using him, put that idiot Tic-Tac on his trail. He obviously can’t handle Malone, but Hobby’s not quite so agile.”
“If Mick Tock disobeyed my orders, as you claim, then you can put him out to sea in a bucket as far as I’m concerned. As for Hobby, I’ll deal with him in my own way.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Something in Charmaine’s tone sounded an alarm in her brain. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew he’d try to help her.”
Charmaine shrugged. “It crossed my mind. I hadn’t bargained on Tock switching allegiance, for the simple reason that I didn’t think Hobby would lower himself to bribe someone of Tock’s ilk. Hobby’s always been such a fussbudget. Unfortunately, as you say, with one exception. Do you have any idea where Bella might be hiding?”
“None, but wherever she is, she knows now about our deal with Tea in China—and don’t you dare laugh. That wasn’t a pun. We have to get her, Charmaine. Every minute she’s out there, she poses a greater threat to our operation.”
“I agree. Can we ship our ‘cargo’ ahead of schedule?”
“Only by a few hours. I’m having it moved to another location in the meantime.” She tipped her head to the side. “Why don’t you lose the wig? Your hair would look nice with some highlights.”
Charmaine’s brows rose. “You know very well why. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a bath.” She plucked the heavy gold band from the third finger of her left hand and dropped it into a jade bowl. “I’ll handle Hobby,” she promised in parting. “You just keep the business on an even keel.”
“Haven’t I been doing that for years?” the woman challenged softly as the bathroom door clicked shut. “Romaine hasn’t been in control for a decade now. And Belladonna never will be.”
On that solemn vow, she spun away. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The image jarred her, as it often did, then she smiled in satisfaction.
Forget growing her hair. That would be a mistake all around. She would dye it a brighter shade of red, something more flamboyant and rich. Like blood, she decided, testing the spiky ends. Yes, blood was power, and she was the power, make no mistake about that. She controlled the kingdom, she was the power and soon she would have the glory. But only when Bella was dead. When Belladonna was gone, forever.
Chapter Thirteen
How had Chen-Li known Bella’s last name? Did it matter right then?
Not much, Malone decided, although maybe it should, because he was scared, bloody scared of this beautiful woman whose life he felt driven to protect even as he opened his own to attack. He didn’t mean physical attack, either. That he could handle, but this sweeping assault she’d leveled on his emotions was something he couldn’t begin to fight.
How did you combat love? But he shouldn’t call it that, should he? Call it lust or sexual attraction, but for God’s sake don’t use the word love.
He stared at her in the gauzy beam of moonlight that poured through the tiny attic window. The room was cramped but clean and smelled of sandalwood. As if he’d known there would be guests staying here that night, ChenLi had laid the feather pallet on the floor. The pallet was large enough for two; the cot, folded and stored against the wall next to a collection of camphor chests, would accommodate only one. It was also the pallet, Malone noted wryly, that had been piled high with sheets, blankets and pillows.
Bella regarded him, expectant but covering up the fact. “Well?” she demanded, and Malone, acknowledging the challenge in her tone, to say nothing of the one his own body was offering, shut his eyes.
She moved closer. Malone felt the warmth of her body where it brushed tantalizingly against his. He felt himself harden at her touch and knew with the barest twinge of regret that he was utterly lost.
Opening his eyes, he let his gaze slide downward to the gentle swell of her breasts, exquisitely delineated by the pearly winter moon. He wanted to gather her into his arms, to crush her against his body so that he could feel every part of her—her hips, her legs, her stomach, her breasts, her mouth on his, hot and greedy and longing. But if he did that, he’d be giving up every last vestige of his control, and self-control was a fierce point of pride with him.
As if sensing his struggle, Bella let her fingers travel over his cheek to his temple, then into his hair. “Give it up, Malone,” she said softly. “I’m not poison, you know, no matter what my name might imply.”
Not poison, no. But deadly just the same. He swayed on his feet, swayed unconsciously toward her. Dropping his forehead down onto hers, he murmured, “I won’t make promises I can’t keep, Bella.”
Her tongue traced a sensuous line over his brow. “I don’t expect promises, Malone. I’m not that greedy.”
Malone’s gaze roamed her face. She reminded him of a Gypsy, one of those magical Irish witches he’d heard about as a child. One touch, one kiss, and a man was enchanted for life.
A groan rolled from his throat. Sorcery, he thought. She’d played a tape called The Sorcerer once. She’d been wearing Ronnie’s robe at the time and beneath it a silk teddy, and he’d felt drugged simply looking at her. She was all long limbs, smooth lines and slender curves. Even her hair was witchy, long and dark and silky. And those eyes of hers…
He sighed in resignation. How could he hope to fight her when he couldn’t fight himself?
Desire for her swelled up inside until it threatened to consume him. He must be mad. But if he was, then wasn’t madness preferable to sanity?
His lower body throbbed. Bella’s fingers strayed to his lips. She stared at him boldly out of large, dark eyes. “I love you, Malone,” she said simply. “I love you, and I want to make love to you. I want you to make love to me. I want…” She hesitated, and he saw, for a split second of time, the fear that haunted her. “I want tonight.”
Oh, God, don’t, he thought. Don’t let this happen. Give me the strength to fight it.
But Malone knew that he could no more stem his feelings for this woman than he could reach up and touch the moon.
His eyes steady on hers, he trapped her wandering fingers with his own and, bringing her hand to his mouth, kissed her palm.
In the back of his mind, he heard fragments of childhood fights, his mother screaming lustily at his father. But it was a distant sound, insignificant after all these years.
Bella didn’t scream, just moaned softly as his lips, moving from her palm, traced the delicate veins of her inner wrist. Her skin, like warm silk, was tinted golden in the opulent wash of moonlight.
An old sixties song about flower children in San Francisco drifted across the alley from another apartment. At thirty-eight, Malone had a vague recollection of the hippie days for which San Francisco was known. Peace, love and rebellion. Funny how all of that fit a Gypsy witch.
He eased aside the soft cotton of Bella’s shirt, exposing her creamy shoulder to his sight. Hunger rose in him, unchecked. With his mouth, he grazed the line of her collarbone. He heard her release a shaky breath and felt her head tip backward.
“Malone…” She dug her. fingernails into his back. It was both a question and a plea.
“I’ll be careful, Bella,” he promised, and knew by the tightening of her grip that she understood.
Fear shot through him, then immediately began to disperse. She pressed herself into him, her breasts lush and soft and unbearably exciting.
Malone had no choice but to abandon reason. He captured her mouth and, sliding his tongue between her lips, proceeded to kiss her long and hard and deep.
If he’d expected her to object, he was surprised. When she placed her palms on either side of his face and kissed him back, he might even have been shocked.
He explored her mouth hungrily, needfully, dampening her lips, running his tongue over her teeth until it found hers. Every muscle in his body felt taut. The friction between them was electric. He’d explode in a minute if he didn’t get inside her.
Yet even as that thought occurred to him, Bella pulled away, just far enough to smile faintly at him. “One night,” she promised, and although he sensed it would be a great deal more than that, he nodded.
“One night.”
Slipping a hand beneath her legs and one around her waist, he scooped her into his arms. And with hippie music playing softly in the background, he carried her through the moon-washed attic to Chen-Li’s feather pallet.
BELLA’S EXCITEMENT WAS mounting in direct proportion to her anxiety. At twenty-nine, she’d never been with a man before. Not that she’d had occasion to regret that decision, but how might Malone react to the knowledge?
As he laid her on the pallet, she reached up to touch his mouth. “Malone, I haven’t… I mean, I’ve never—”
He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I sensed that,” he said, and there was no trace of amusement in his dark eyes.
Relief coursed through her, followed closely by a renewed surge of desire.
He pressed her onto the pallet, but didn’t trap her. When his mouth covered hers in a deep, probing kiss, the last vestiges of fear seeped from her mind.
She wrapped her arms about his neck, tugging him closer. His skin smelled of soap and the dampness of the night. Her fingers slid through the silk of his hair, tangling in the curls that tumbled over his neck. With her free hand, she unbuttoned his shirt, all the while kissing his mouth and face.
Malone’s lips traveled from her brow to her eyelids, across her cheeks to her mouth and from there along the line of her jaw to the highly sensitive spot at the base of her throat.
He unbuttoned her shirt slowly and then set his mouth on one lace-covered breast. Her nipple hardened instantly. Bella arched her back in reaction, twining her fingers into his hair and pulling him nearer.
Her mind and body were on fire. She felt him removing her clothes piece by piece, first her shirt, then her jeans, then her bikini briefs and bra. She saw his dark gaze linger on her lower limbs and shivered inside.
With careful fingers, Bella unzipped his fly. She was trembling and hot; the area between her legs had grown cramped and wet. God, but she loved this man.
