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  “Shhh.” He took her in his arms and her senses swam with the heat of his nearness and the hard strength of his body so close to hers. A low, coiling ache of desire began deep inside her and she pressed against him, ignoring the clamoring warnings of her brain and the panicked beat of memories in the icy darkness at the center of her heart. “It’s too early in the morning for long-winded discussions.” His mouth was so close that his breath stirred her hair. “It’s too early for anything but crawling back between the sheets and taking up where we left off last night.”

  She jerked away, but he’d been expecting her to bolt and tightened his arms around her. “I know. You’re not ready for anything more. But I can dream, can’t I?”

  “Dreaming is sometimes the most dangerous thing of all.”

  “Maybe that’s why we belong together, Rachel, because we know we can’t trust our dreams.” He kissed her then and she responded with every fiber of her being, despite the warring emotions swirling around inside her. If he had pulled her down with him on his hard, narrow bed, she couldn’t have denied him whatever he wanted of her. And then it would be too late.

  Brett stopped kissing her, looked down into her eyes for a long moment, then rested his forehead against hers. “When you’re ready for me, Rachel, I’ll be waiting.”

  “Don’t say that.” Her voice came out all squeaky and broken into little bits. She swallowed hard against the sudden constriction in her throat. “Don’t say you’ll wait. I might never be ready.”

  She felt him shake his head very slightly. His lips were still close to hers; she had only to tip her head slightly and their mouths would meet again. She resisted the urge and found it harder than she’d imagined it would be.

  “You’ll be ready, someday. But not today.” He stepped away, leaving her feeling absurdly cold and forlorn. “I’ll get cleaned up. You can use the shower in Ahnle’s room. We’ll have breakfast and you two can do some shopping. We’ll make an early night of it and tomorrow, when you’re both rested, we’ll start making arrangements for Ahnle’s future. How does that sound?”

  The temptation to agree to the plan was so great Rachel bit her lip to keep from doing so. She couldn’t let herself fall any further into his debt, or under his spell. She owed Brett Jackson too much already, and, even more dangerously, she could too easily remember how to fall in love with him. That was the last thing she could afford to do because then she would remember everything about herself she’d betrayed to stay alive.

  “Rachel? Are you okay?” He held her at arm’s length, watched her without smiling.

  No, she wanted to scream. Help me, I’ll never be all right again.

  “I’m fine. I just need a shower to wash away the cobwebs.” She tried to smile and succeeded. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her again so she stepped back hastily.

  “Don’t disappear on me,” he said, and Rachel couldn’t be sure he wasn’t serious. “I promised to show you Bangkok, remember? We’ll have that few days alone I asked you for. Just the two of us, at least at night.”

  She wished he hadn’t said that. It made her hands shake and her toes curl when he talked like that. “Go take your shower.”

  He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Rachel stayed where she was, not even turning around when she heard Ahnle in the doorway. She couldn’t stay. That much was obvious. “Rachel?”

  “I’m ready.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped on her shoes before looking at the girl. Her heart was pounding with anticipation and with dread.

  “Do we go now?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze slid to the bedside table. Beside the telephone was Brett’s wallet, a money clip and a set of car keys. “We can go now.” She picked up the money clip and marveled at the amount of cash it contained. She slipped out some of the bills and wrote an IOU on the pad by the phone. For a moment she hesitated, her hand hovering over the car keys. Then she picked them up, as well. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

  “I do not understand,” Ahnle said, casting anxious glances at the bathroom door where the sound of running water from the shower could be heard.

  “Nothing. We must go. Quickly.” Rachel folded her clothes into the yaam, pocketed the money and the car keys and turned her back on the room she’d shared with Brett.

  She couldn’t explain the forces that drove her any more than he had been able to explain himself to her. All she knew was that she was bound to Ahnle and because of that bonding, she must help her recover her child. It meant going back into the jungle alone, without Brett’s help. It meant facing the hill country of Laos that had haunted her days and nights for fifteen years. But at least those terrors were familiar, the skills needed to fight them easily recalled. In so many ways, this journey was less dangerous and frightening than the one Brett had asked her to make with him.

  BRETT STOOD CONCEALED behind the beaded curtains that separated the private section of the Lemongrass from the main bar and dining room as the evening dinner crowd began to arrive.

  “Man, somethin’ smells good in the kitchen tonight,” Billy said, coming up behind him. “How’s the room?”

  “Usual Saturday night crowd.” Brett watched as Ponchoo escorted group after group of well-dressed, well-heeled Europeans, Japanese and Americans to their tables.

  “The kid’s got the touch.” Billy was as proud of Ponchoo as Brett was. Twelve years ago, when they’d opened the restaurant on a shoestring budget, Ponchoo had been a snotty-nosed street urchin, picking pockets and panhandling on the street outside. Neither of the men had wanted to see him hauled away by the police, so they’d offered him a job washing dishes. Ponchoo had been smart enough to see a good deal when it was offered to him and headed into the kitchen.

  “He told me he had a 3.9 GPA this semester,” Billy announced as proudly as any father. “We’ll get this place a five-star rating before you know it.” Ponchoo was studying hotel and restaurant management part-time at Thammasat University. He spoke English with an American accent and ran the dining-room staff with an iron hand.

  “How’s the newest member of the team working out?” Brett asked.

  “Not too bad,” Billy replied. “The little Chinese girl is a real worker.” Over the years they’d helped other street kids work their way into the mainstream of Thai life. Their newest employee was an ethnic Chinese girl Lonnie had dragged home from a massage parlor where she was being trained to replace her mother, who, at twenty-seven, was considered over the hill.

  “Well, well, here comes Ambassador Singleton. You two had any heart-to-heart talks lately?”

  “No. But we’re going to have to get together very soon.” Brett watched as the ambassador and his party were seated at one of the prime tables near the windows overlooking the Chao Phraya River and the city beyond.

  “I take it it’s time to call in the big boys?” Billy asked with no more curiosity than if he were inquiring about tomorrow’s weather report.

  “We’re going all the way to the top.” If Alf Singleton couldn’t talk his Thai counterpart in the palace into delivering the rest of the money he needed, Brett would probably have to mortgage the restaurant to come up with it. He wasn’t about to let Khen Sa and one hundred million dollars’ worth of heroin slip away, if he could help it.

  “We better come out of this lookin’ like the heroes we are.”

  Brett merely grunted.

  “The police found Lonnie’s car,” Billy said a few moments later.

  “Where?” Brett swung away from the scene beyond the beaded curtain. Billy’s hair and shirt were wet from an early-evening thunderstorm. Behind them, the increasing noise of conversation in half a dozen languages masked their words.

  “On a side street near Hualamphong Station.”

  “They took the train north?”

  “Looks like it. There was no sign of foul play. The old bug was locked with the keys inside.”

  Brett ran his hand through his hair, stirring the heavy gold waves with
agitated fingers. At least she had left the city safely. “They should have been back at the camp two days ago. Where the hell are they?” He could read most men and their intentions like a book, but Rachel’s actions were a complete mystery to him.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” He felt Billy watching him, and for the first time in twenty years, he deliberately avoided confiding in his friend. That’s what falling for a woman could do to a man, twist him all up inside until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.

  He’d known Rachel was frightened and confused by the feelings he’d aroused in her the night she’d spent in his arms. Yet, surely there was more to her disappearance than a reluctance to enter into a physical relationship with him? It was out of character for her to keep running away. In most other circumstances she’d faced her challenges, even rushed headlong to meet them, regardless of the consequences. Except with him. There had to be something more, something about her he didn’t know.

  “My guess,” Billy said, breaking the silence that stretched out between them, “is that they’re headed for some other up-country destination besides Father Dolph’s camp. As far as I can figure it, the only logical place that could be is Ahnle’s village, across the border in Laos.”

  “What the hell would they do that for?” Brett growled. He’d been angry, scared, frustrated, most of the time all three at once, since he’d walked out of his shower three days ago and found that Rachel and Ahnle had cleared out of his house. They’d vanished between one minute and the next, taking Lonnie’s wreck of a VW and most of his pocket money, leaving nothing but an IOU, signed with Rachel’s initials. He didn’t know what he’d want to do first when he found her again, kiss her or wring her neck for not trusting him enough to ask for his help.

  “Who knows with women? But you can bet it’s somethin’ important. I remember her face that first night Lonnie and me came across her and that embassy flunky, Bartley, stuck in the mud up there in the hills. Rachel’s scared to death of that jungle. She wouldn’t go back there unless it was for a damned good reason.”

  “You’re right.” Brett made his decision. “See if you can get a call through to Father Dolph. I’ll tell him what we know about the car. And this time he damned well better not beat around the bush telling us what he knows, or I’ll have his hide, priest or no priest.”

  “MCKENDRICK HERE.” Micah waited for the caller on the other end of the line to identify himself. Outside, an early November snowstorm wrapped the cabin in white isolation. Inside, it was warm and cozy and behind him, Carrie was playing with their son in front of the fireplace. The static on the line sounded as if the connection stretched halfway around the world. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the north wind howling around the cabin.

  “Micah? Can you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Micah said tersely, his suspicions confirmed even before he heard the caller’s name.

  “It’s Tiger Jackson.”

  “What’s wrong?” There was no reason for his old friend to call, except with bad news.

  “Rachel’s disappeared. She’s been gone almost a week.”

  “How did it happen?” Micah felt like shouting into the telephone. Had there been a border raid? Had she been kidnapped by bandits?

  “The last I saw of her was at my place in Bangkok. She stole my friend’s car and most of my pocket money and took off north on the train with a young Hlông girl she’d befriended at the camp.”

  “Damn.” He punched the top of the desk with his fist. Behind him, Carrie stopped playing with the baby and scooped him up onto her lap. He turned slowly, knowing the anguish he was feeling would show plainly on his face. “What the hell was she doing in Bangkok? What the hell was she doing with you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  The connection wasn’t getting any better. Micah tried to figure out the time differential. He glanced at his watch. Four o’clock on a lousy early November afternoon. That meant it must be about four in the morning—tomorrow—in Bangkok.

  “Father Dolph, at the camp, thinks she’s probably headed into Laos, back to the girl’s village to help her retrieve her baby son.” Surprisingly, something like anger laced Brett’s words. “I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t know about the girl’s baby. Father Dolph seemed to think it was none of my business at first. I would have stopped them if I’d had any idea what they were up to.”

  “You couldn’t know, man. And I doubt if you could have stopped my sister if you’d tried. She’s got this thing about kids.” He glanced lovingly at his wife and son, the baby Rachel had delivered, here, at the cabin. He thought of the way she’d risked her life to save Annie’s daughter, Leah, when her Vietnamese mother had attempted to abduct her. Of the baby Rachel had lost so long ago. “I’d only be surprised if she didn’t try to help the girl.”

  “Khen Sa is on the move in those hills.” Brett’s words were hard-edged, matter-of-fact. Micah didn’t expect to hear anything else. Emotions got you killed in Tiger’s line of work.

  Carrie had come forward, holding their son to be comforted and to give Micah comfort, as well. He held her close in the circle of his arm.

  “Micah, you still there? This is a damned lousy connection.” Once again, an uncharacteristic lacing of anger underscored Brett’s words.

  “Yes, I’m here. The trouble’s probably on this end. It’s snowing to beat the band up here. Always plays hell with the phone lines.”

  “I just wanted you to know I’ll do everything I can to get her back to Father Dolph safe and sound, you know that, man.” Micah didn’t for a moment doubt that he would. “I’ll call again as soon as I have some news.”

  “Tiger, wait.”

  The line went dead.

  “Damn.” Micah stared at the phone, then cupped the receiver in his hand as he began flipping through the phone book.

  “Who are you calling now?” Carrie asked. His son watched him also, as she held him in her arms. His eyes were warm and bright with lively intelligence. Micah loved him, loved Carrie more each day.

  “The airline,” he said, blessing her for not asking for details just yet, for letting him act first and talk over the decision later. “Think you can manage here alone for a few days until Reuben can get back up here from Ann Arbor?”

  “Of course.” She dismissed his question with the disdain it deserved. “Micah, where are you going?” she asked more quietly, her voice once again filled with concern.

  “Bangkok,” he said, still holding her close against him, “by way of Chicago. This is one time having a brother with Simon’s contacts is going to come in handy.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  RACHEL STOOD ON THE dusty main street of Chiang Khong and watched the evil-smelling diesel bus they’d been riding in for so many long hours drive off. It was a hot, muggy morning, the third since they’d run away from Brett’s house. She wondered briefly if he’d found Lonnie Smalley’s VW, but she was really too tired to think about it much. She’d tried very hard to park the car where it would be safe and not too difficult to find before they boarded the train north. At the time, it had seemed the best thing to do.

  She stopped thinking of what was done and beyond repairing and looked around her. Several people had stopped outside businesses and shops to stare, politely and unobtrusively, but curiously, nonetheless. Their arrival, it seemed, was creating a small stir of interest. There had been only three other passengers to get off the bus, all men. Several others, including two women with live chickens headed for market, had boarded the bus for the return trip to Chiang Rai. The male passengers had already disappeared into one of the hotels, leaving Rachel and Ahnle alone in front of the bus stop.

  Once Chiang Khong had been a busy border crossing into Laos, a half mile away across the Mekong River. But the Pathet Lao had closed the border years ago and there were few boats on the river. Now the entire town appeared as dusty and dejected as its main street.

  “We should move out of the street,” Ah
nle said, staring at the potholed pavement beneath her feet. It wouldn’t do to draw too much attention to themselves.

  “Yes,” Rachel agreed. They were both wearing dark cotton slacks and light-colored blouses, bought in the market in Chiang Rai. Flat straw hats covered their hair. Rachel wore sunglasses as well, to hide her eyes. “Do you know where the home of your mother’s sister and her son is located?” She spoke carefully in Hlông. Ahnle looked so exhausted, Rachel was afraid she might collapse, the result of two and a half days of hard travel, added to the strain and fear of the week before.

  The girl looked around her in confusion. “It is near the river,” she said at last. “My cousin brought us here by boat. It was a fishing boat with a motor.” She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “He met us at a place along the river. It was very early in the morning and I was very cold. Everyone was afraid. If a border patrol found us, or bandits…” She left the sentence unfinished. “I hid my face. I did not like crossing the river. It is very big and very deep. No one in my family could swim.” She looked up and down the street, undecided.

  “If we walk toward the river, do you think you can recognize your cousin’s house?”

  “I will try.” Ahnle shouldered her yaam, filled with supplies and sweaters and blankets they’d bought along with the clothes they wore. She started walking in the direction of the river. “We stayed here for two hands of days. Then men from the government came. They said we must go to the camp, that we could not stay here with my aunt. We could not say no to them or they would send us back.” She was quiet for a long while, looking at houses and looking into the past, also, Rachel suspected. “What if my cousin will not take us across the river?” she asked.

  “Then we’ll find another way. I didn’t commit grand larceny in a foreign country to give up now,” Rachel said grimly, as she shifted the weight of her woven bag higher on her shoulder. She ached with fatigue, every joint in her body protesting the long, tiring days of travel and almost sleepless nights.