Page 27 of Jay Bird

Liu frowned. “She betrayed you, Chen. She nearly killed you.”

A humorless smile pulled at Chen’s mouth. “Yes, she did.”

“And somehow that makes you want her back more?”

Chen placed the photograph down. “She embarrassed me. She made fools of my guards. She helped an FBI agent escape, crippled routes that took years to establish, made a move against me in my own home.”

Chen turned toward Liu. “No one does that to me and walks away,” Chen said.

Liu rubbed a hand over his jaw. “And when you find her?”

Chen’s expression hardened. “Things will be different.”

“How?”

Chen spoke as if discussing a business problem. “She’ll be retrained. She had too much freedom. Too many privileges. I allowed her to believe obedience was optional because she performed well enough that I stopped questioning her.” His gaze darkened. “That was my mistake.”

“And hers?”

Chen smiled wickedly. “Believing she could leave.”

Liu had been with him for seven years—longer than almost anyone still alive in his organization—and over time he had earned certain privileges, even the right to question decisions that would have gotten another man killed. And, unfortunately, he had a point. Willow had betrayed him, nearly killed him, and cost him money, routes, and valuable allies.

Logic said she should be punished and disposed of.

But logic had very little to do with the rage that consumed him every time he imagined her walking freely somewhere beyond his reach.

Liu sighed. “I hope she is worth all of this.”

Chen’s fingers curled against the edge of the desk.

“Keep digging. Get more people on it. I want every airport, border crossing, train station, and contact we have checked again. Look into her old friends back in New York, former coworkers. Anyone she might believe she can trust.”

Liu studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod and exiting the office.

Chen turned toward the window, his reflection staring back at him in the darkened glass.

“I know you’re out there somewhere. And I don’t care how long it takes, but I won’t stop looking for you until you are back where you belong.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Willow sat quietly in the passenger seat of Jay Bird’s SUV, watching the streets of Virginia Beach pass outside the window while trying to wrap her mind around the fact that, for the first time in nearly three weeks, she wasn’t trying to figure out where she and Lily were going to sleep that night.

The realization should have been comforting, but instead it settled over her in a strange way. It was like it was almost too easy, like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

Willow glanced over her shoulder toward the back seat.

Lily was strapped securely into a brand-new car seat, her head tilted slightly to one side as she fought a losing battle with sleep. Ellie was tucked beneath one arm, the stuffed elephant’s trunk smashed against Lily’s cheek while her other hand hung loosely at her side.

Willow’s gaze lingered on the car seat Jay Bird had bought. When he had arrived at the hospital later to pick them up, Willow had been shocked to see there had been a brand-new car seat installed in the back of his SUV.

When she had asked him about it, he had shrugged as though buying car seats for random toddlers who attached themselves to him was something he did every day.

She needed one. That had been his entire explanation.

Willow looked toward the driver’s seat.

Jay Bird had one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, his eyes moving between the road ahead and the mirrors with an awareness that seemed almost instinctive. He was still difficult for her to read. Large, undeniably handsome, quiet to the point of brooding, and intimidating enough that three weeks ago Willow would’ve changed sidewalks if she had seen him approaching her.