Dragon's Blood (Black Planet Book 1) Read online

  He saw a flicker of something in her dark brown eyes… guilt? No, anger. But not at him. She was looking at his hands. She then looked at Greene, almost reproachfully.

  She stepped out into the hall and spoke softly, returning with the keys to his shackles.

  “I’ve sent for clothing for you.” She sorted a key from the others and moved to his side. She looked straight into his eyes, and the contact sent adrenaline through his system. She deftly released his hands.

  “If you mess with me, Chen, I’ll kick your ass.” The warning was delivered with soft intent. She knelt to unlock the shackles, her head near his body.

  “You can try,” he breathed into her ear.

  She went still. The nanites that strengthened his body also enhanced his senses. He could smell her unperfumed skin. He knew she still lived in Wharf, but Annie carried barely a trace of the trademark waterfront scent. Instead, he smelled the sandalwood incense she burned in her little rooftop shrine to General Kwan. He smelled the cherry blossom soap Mary Jackson made and sold in her general goods store. He smelled the mélange of her emotions: guilt, want and anger.

  The fragrance of arousal tickled his nose as she turned her head slightly, looking straight at the swelling bulge of his cock just inches from her face. Inwardly, he cursed at his own reaction to her breath brushing his thigh, and at the slight pink that flushed her cheeks as her gaze slid up to meet his.

  Something primal… fear? She’d never carried that sort of fear, not in his memory. This fear scent surrounded her like a comfortable, familiar essence she wore every day. It permeated her clothing and looked at him from her eyes. Aiden’s erection quickly faded. He looked away so she wouldn’t see the abrupt concern on his face. He hated knowing it was there. Faced with seeing her after all these years, the carefully nurtured hate melted away into concern. He could kick himself. It seemed that loyalty was ingrained between partners, even with all that had passed between them.

  Annie moved from his side and seated herself in front of a pair of plain folders that her boss had arranged on the table. She sat straight and upright, directly across from Greene. The pair of them were just that… a pair. Identical weary expressions weighed them down. Annie took a sip of her tea and set the cup carefully back into its moisture ring. If this is what the job had done to them, he was glad to be out. Aiden folded his arms across his bare chest and waited. He looked at the tea in front of him and started to reach for the glass.

  “He’s back.”

  Aiden’s hand dropped to the table like it’d been weighted.

  Greene’s words were unadorned, and it took Aiden a few panicked moments to sort them out. He knew what was coming so he had time to prepare for the rush of emotion as it flooded his brain. He braced and sat very still as his body reacted. He separated himself from the pain and grief that never really left him for long. When he could speak, Aiden’s voice was steady, matter-of-fact.

  “He left no evidence beyond his kill. There weren’t enough victims to establish an MO. You’re full of shit, Greene.”

  Aiden rubbed the bare skin of his arms, feeling goose flesh rising. Going home across the water would be a barrel of monkeys without shoes or clothes. He didn’t care. Aiden stood, knowing they’d be unable to stop him.

  “Blood evidence.” He froze at the sound of Annie’s voice. It was soft and velvety, yet compelling. She spoke fluent Japanese, Italian, and her Mandarin was passable. She had a slight accent unique to Wharf. “One of the recent victims fought and drew blood—enough for a detailed analysis. Whatever this thing is, it assimilates the DNA of its victims. Your wife’s DNA was one of the layers the lab isolated.”

  His legs went numb, and he slid back into the chair, staring down at the grey metal surface of the table.

  her former partner sat so very, very still. Annie watched as all emotion shut down on his normally expressive face. His arms were crossed protectively across his chest, covering the elaborate tattoo work there. She’d never seen him shirtless before, but knew the medallion on the center of his chest matched Lisa’s. They’d gone to an old Japanese Yakuza artist who’d given them an elegant Chinese dragon and phoenix design. He wore the dragon, she’d worn the phoenix. He knew that Annie’s Japanese upbringing made the tattoo abhorrent to her; she was surprised that he was hiding it from her sight.

  No scars marred his body, he had no recent tattoo work. Lisa had told her that he’d planned on sleeves but she’d died, and not long after, he’d had himself injected with black-market nanites. He’d never scar again. His skin would forever reject tattoos. He’d made himself somewhat more than human.

  Or somewhat less than human, depending on how you looked at it.

  He was still handsome though his features were now blurred with anger and grief and disillusionment. His hair was longer than she was accustomed to seeing it. Fat, black curls and tawny skin weren’t the only evidence of his African heritage. His face was Chinese but stronger. He had a full mouth and a tough looking jaw. Strong cheekbones rose with the angles of his golden eyes. His gaze was not still. He glared at the table in cold fury.

  She tried not to look at his body. He’d been her partner, the husband of her friend. Carrying nanites kept one healthy, and much stronger than average, but you still had to work to stay in shape. His sculpted body showed proof of hours working out.

  But then, his life depended on being stronger and faster than everyone else. More so now than when he’d been on the force.

  Annie told herself that the heat rising in her belly was anger. They’d dragged him out of bed, all the way across the Bay without clothing or shoes. They’d treated him like a common felon, not a former detective. The flush in her cheeks had nothing to do with his smooth dark skin or the wicked tattoos undulating over the muscles of his arms.

  Greene continued to speak, ignoring Aiden’s silence. “We need to put Tanaka undercover. We think he’s hunting on the fight circuits. The recent victims were all from your world.”

  Aiden’s gaze snapped to the Lieutenant. “Her. You want her undercover, and me to help?” His eyes were cold as he looked at her contemptuously. “Fine. Her funeral.”

  Annie’s jaw flexed and then relaxed. She had nothing to prove to this man. She called up her long practiced serenity and let Aiden have his say.

  “Bit of news, Greene. Most every fighter out there is enhanced. She ain’t.”

  “I don’t need to be,” Annie said.

  He snorted. “Even the girl fighters are seeded. She’ll bite it on her first match, Greene.”

  “That isn’t your problem. You just need to get her in. You can cut her loose once she’s lined up for a few fights.”

  “I don’t need to win, Aiden. I just need to fight and survive. And it’s not going to come after me. It’s sniffing out Nanos.”

  He finally looked at her. “Lisa wasn’t enhanced.”

  “Yes, Aiden, she was. Not like you but she’d taken a small injection after a gunshot wound when she was a rookie.”

  That treatment had done what the nanites were designed to do. They’d located the wound, fixed it, and then filtered out of the blood through the kidneys. But they’d left a signature in Lisa Chen’s blood, and made her a target.

  “Look, no offense here, Tanaka. Greene, I know Annie’s good, but why not send in one of the guys?”

  “We chose Annie because she’s the right person for the job. She’s a member of Wharf community and is an experienced martial artist.”

  Aiden snorted in humor. “Doing Tai Chi on the roof ain’t exactly fighting, Greene.”

  She let his comments pass. And then she wondered how he knew about the time she spent up top.

  “Fine.” Aiden said abruptly.

  She looked over at him in surprise. Aiden sat, teacup in hand, idly swirling the liquid around. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. “I’ll introduce you around, get you some gigs, but beyond that, I’m out of it. And I get your share of any winnings, provided you survive the fi
rst fight.”

  He reached for the file. Greene nodded slightly, so she pushed it across the table. They were violating protocol, but Chen was ex-force and knew how to handle himself.

  She watched as he rapidly scanned the documents, lingering when he read the data relating to Lisa’s death. Her statement was there, and she knew he’d never read the official account. She started picking at the rough edge of a fingernail, then fisted her hands. After the attack he’d buried his wife and walked away, leaving his former partner to pick up the pieces of the nightmare.

  They lived within throwing distance of one another, yet this was the first time she’d seen Aiden Chen since the day of Lisa’s death. Between his anger and her survivor’s guilt, their friendship had been irredeemably shattered. She’d heard about his meteoric rise in the underground fight world through neighborhood gossip. She doubted that he’d followed her career at all.

  But he knew she practiced Tai Chi on the roof.

  When he slowly closed the file and looked across the table at her, his face was stiff with fury. He knew now, everything that had happened, or almost everything. Her account had been couched in the formal language of the detective, and they’d left out the full details of her injuries, but he knew the scope of her failure.

  She looked down at her hand and picked at a sliver of fingernail, peeling it away completely.

  Chapter Two

  “So what are you thinking, Tanaka?”

  She paused on the ladder, looking at Aiden’s long, lean form as he reclined on her vintage deck chair. “I’m thinking you’d better not ruin my chair. I had to hang that thing off the dock for hours to soak the Marina mud from it. Getting it up here was no fun.”

  For the brave at heart, the Marina was a treasure trove. You could crawl out on boards and planks and haul in old shit that had sunk after the Big Shake. Small shakers and high tide regularly pushed the Marina District’s muddy gifts to the surface.

  She threw a leg over the ledge and dropped lightly to the rooftop. It used to be black tarpaper. She’d painted it white and had been building garden boxes and planters around the space. Her Japanese grandfather had started the rooftop garden; she’d continued with it, establishing a lush roofscape. It was her territory and it pissed her off that he’d managed to leap over from a neighboring rooftop.

  “No, I mean it. What are you really thinking?” He stretched, arching his back. No doubt he’d not even been home and to bed yet, and it was the dawn of a new day. She forced away the memory of the muscular body hidden under his well-worn clothing.

  Annie crossed to her training area and began slow stretches. What was she really thinking? She was pissed as hell that he’d invaded her privacy. Annie cherished sunrise on her rooftop. She was angry that he was part of her investigation, angry that he questioned her skills after three years of partnership, and in spite of five years of separation.

  She hated the way she felt when she looked at him. She hated that her guilt wasn’t all from Lisa’s death. That’s what she was really thinking.

  She started her warm-ups, the old training coming naturally to her. She didn’t even have to think as she bent her knees, twisting from side to side. Old Guo Lee had taught her this form when she was a child. A dead martial art, save for a few Chinese families here and there. Americans, too. There were gweilo teachers who’d learned and passed it to their students.

  She’d been a teen when it occurred to her how strange it was that a Chinese family had tutored a Japanese girl in their family art. Her grandfather Tanaka had raised her and had never commented on her becoming the protégé of a noted kung fu teacher. A Chinese teacher.

  She’d carefully refrained from calling Guo Lee her sifu in Grandpa’s presence.

  She centered, blocked left, then right, sixty reps, and smoothly shifted to a punch. Fifteen minutes in and she was warmed up and sweating. She moved into Pi, or metal stance, and settled, holding till the sweat ran freely down her brow. She pulled through the stance and held on the other side, willing herself to complete focus, and forgetting the presence of Aiden Chen in her private space.

  aiden sighed impatiently. There were five elements and eight animals in the Lee family’s Hsing-I form. If he let her go, she’d spend the next couple hours working her forms and stances. And while it was wonderful to watch, they weren’t getting anywhere. In all the years he’d known Annie Tanaka, and had worked beside her, Chen had never seen her fight. She’d always known the right thing to say to defuse a situation. When things went bad, she’d step in and suddenly the perp was restrained.

  Nifty skills but she’d never been inside a ring. Or worse yet, a cage.

  Annie paused, wiping sweat from her face.

  “You warmed up yet?” She cast him a bland glance and nodded. “Okay, let’s bang.” He hopped up and smiled sweetly. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey. It’s not what it sounds like.” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face and he knew he’d scored.

  It bugged the hell out of him that she’d gone all impassive on his ass. This was her guarded look, the look that told him of her distrust. She used to be open with him, back before.

  Back before she’d fucked up and watched his wife die. Aiden cloaked himself in anger and pushed away the annoyance, letting cold fury seep in. What he’d read in that report hadn’t changed anything. Not much. She was a trained cop and her failure had cost the life of his wife. Granted, she’d been injured, but still, she could have done something…

  “Stand in front of me.” She moved in, instinctively putting herself into position. “You ever do this before?” She shook her head. “Okay, horse stance; then you’re going to twist from the waist. We’re going to bang arms.”

  They began slowly, her slender forearms making contact with his steely muscles, their skin slapping together. Gradually, he upped the force. Her breathing became deep and steady, telling she was in pain. Which was the point of the exercise.

  “Now drop your arm, we’re going to bang the front part.” She picked it up quickly, and soon, they alternated front to back in a rhythmic, sinuous dance. When the skin on her arms began to glow pink, Aiden slowed to a stop. To her credit she didn’t complain, though she rubbed at her arms. He headed for his bag and pulled out a bottle of liniment.

  “This’ll help with bruising,” he said gruffly. She nodded and rubbed the stuff on her arms, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Every family with a martial arts tradition had their own version of “juice,” or bone-break liniment. He doubted the Lees trusted her with their recipe. She was a student, not family.

  “Okay, Tanaka. I know you’re in shape and can move. What I don’t know is if you can take a hit. Can you?”

  He struck. Hard.

  The blow should have floored her. It should have landed square in the belly and taken her down. Instead, Chen found himself with an arm behind his back, head down at an awkward angle. It’d been a cheap shot, and he deserved the humiliation.

  “Slick.” He grinned, twisting into a low fighter’s stance once she released his arm. Okay, they’d spar if she felt so confident. He circled, grinning in amusement as she stood always facing him, relaxed and seemingly unprepared. Aiden stepped in to punch, connected with nothing, and found himself face-down on the roof.

  “Look, Tanaka, this is all well and good, but you can’t go in the ring like this.” She released him and stood back as he rose. “Listen, your opponent will come in like pile-drivers, and I can’t help if I can’t gauge how you take a hit…”

  “Who says I have to take a hit? That would be stupid.”

  “That would be boring, and people don’t bet on boring.”

  “Well, I’m not going in as a career fighter, Aiden.”

  “Yes, my dear, you are. If you’re going to get close to the insiders, you need to play the game.”

  Many of the illegal fighters were from the outside, they weren’t Wharf people. She might be on home turf, but she was still an outsider.

  “Okay, fine.” She stoo
d and took a flashy stance. They closed, she danced and ducked away. When his blow finally connected, she gasped, staggered, but didn’t fall. He was impressed.

  “Okay, you know most of the fights are to the knock-out. The ones I run are more traditional, ten rounds or five seconds down. None are to the death, but that’s only words. Some of the high stakes fights offer a payout on death.”

  “Lovely lifestyle you’ve embraced, Aiden.”

  He didn’t defend himself.

  “I’ll want you to draw it out for as many rounds as you can, as flashy as you can. In women’s fighting, it’s no holds barred. If you’re fighting a guy, no going for the nads. They’ll also make you cut down your fingernails.”

  Annie narrowed her eyes at Aiden, nodded, and mentally prepared to square off again. In truth, that blow had hurt. Not the worst she’d felt, but it’d been bad. He began circling like a wolf. She went low, launching before he attacked. In the midst of a flurry of punches and kicks, Annie snuck in a few stunning blows -- armpits, inner thighs, and ribcage.

  “Fuck!” He yelled, rubbing his reddened torso.

  She backed off and grinned, feeling the glow of finally sharing what she could really do.

  “You’re real!”

  “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, Aiden. You know the Lees. Do you seriously think they taught me just so I could balance my chi?”

  He coughed, bending over at the waist. He brought up blood and spat on the roof. She hadn’t held back with him. If he’d been a Norm, he’d be on his way to the hospital. Old Guo Lee was a warrior. He’d been one of the founders of Wharf. He practiced an ancient form of martial arts called Hsing-I. Less flashy than other forms, it was direct and to the point, a devastating attack followed by a swift take-down.

  Following the Big Shake when the city had collapsed into violence and chaos, Guo Lee had led his family to a makeshift fortress on the waterfront, taking in as many as would come over the years. In those darkest days, they’d fought off rape gangs and every sort of marauder, including those who carried badges.