Marked by Passion (9 page)

Our special time, Mom called it. She used to tell me there were many secrets to being a woman and she wanted me to know all of them.

"I used to be so jealous of those moments, even though Mom always made sure she and I had our own special time together. I miss her, Gabby." He frowned at the ice melting in his glass. "Do you ever think about the day Mom died?"

My shoulders tensed, and I hunched down just a little in the chair. I hadn't expected him to mention that. I wasn't ready for it.

"She laughed when I told her she shouldn't go outside because you and Dad were practicing. But she wanted to take more pictures of the roses, so she went anyway. One minute she was smiling and happy, and the next..." He shook his head and took another swig of his drink.

The guilt in Paul's gaze shocked me. It never occurred to me that anyone else would feel responsible. It made me feel that much guiltier myself.

"I wonder how things would have turned out if I'd insisted she should stay inside." He squeezed my hand. "It was bad of me to blame you. I think it was to lessen how responsible I felt myself. And you couldn't help that you couldn't control
tu ch’i.
You were only eighteen. It was too much of Dad to ask of you. Especially when you were so focused on your art."

The energy that had been pulsating under the surface surged, probably responding to my emotions. For a moment, I thought it was going to break loose, but I managed to shove it back with sheer will.

Oblivious of my struggle, Paul let go of my hand and sat back in his chair. "I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to bring all that up, not the first time I saw you again."

"It's okay." It had to be said if we were going to be friends again. Besides, who'd understand better than me?

"I have all of Mom's photos." His lighter tone told me we were done with the heavy talk. "I had them shipped up from LA to my suite here in the city. You should come by and pick out the ones you want."

"I'd love that," I said with my whole being.

He smiled. "Good. They're yours as much as mine. And then there's the matter of Dad's estate."

I wrinkled my nose. "Since when did Wu have an estate? He was just an accountant."

"I specifically meant the scroll."

"What about the scroll?"

"I know you never wanted to deal with the responsibility of the scroll. It's not what you were meant to do. So I came to offer to take up the role of Guardian for you."

Tu ch’i
flared for a second, but I clamped down and stifled it. For some reason, I parroted Wu's words. "You aren't marked."

"It's the only thing I didn't inherit." He swirled his drink so the ice clinked rhythmically. "You've got to admit I got Wu's focus and discipline, not to mention his sense of responsibility."

The five-year-old in me pouted. "If you say you deserve the scroll because you're four years older, stronger, and more competent, I'm gonna pop you one."

Paul laughed and shook his head. "You're still so defensive, Gabby. I didn't mean to step on your toes. You know you're a good fighter. It's just I know you've always wanted to be an artist. The scroll will only get in the way of your plans. The plans Mom had for you."

Didn't I know it.

"If I took over the Guardianship, then you could concentrate on your art and whatever else you want to do. You'd be free."

So tempting. And so easy. "You'd make that sacrifice for me?"

"It's no sacrifice. I know you see it that way, but I've always felt honored by that part of our family history."

The mark on my hip ached, and I rubbed it with the heel of my hand as I studied him.

"I'm not pushing you, Gabby." He swirled the ice in his glass. "This is your decision. Because the scroll is in your possession now, isn't it?"

I had the impulse to lie and say
no.
Silly, considering this was my brother. Wu was the one with the conspiracy-theory mentality, and not even he would think to mistrust Paul. "I have it."

"Where are you keeping it?"

"Someplace safe," I answered vaguely, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on us.

"I know you'll keep it secure until I pick it up. I'll have my lawyers draw up the necessary papers for you to sign. To relinquish your ownership, of course."

I shook my head. "It's not your responsibility, Paul. I can't pawn it off on you."

He paused, his frown bringing out an eerie resemblance to Wu. "Why not? I have the means to keep it safe. You wouldn't have to worry about it, and you can concentrate on your art. It's a win-win."

"I know, but—" I shook my head. I should have just handed it over to him. He'd offered me the perfect out. I could let him deal with the burden and all the crap that went hand in hand with the Guardianship. I could be free to live my life the way I'd planned. The way Mom had wanted it.

And he was right—he'd be the ideal Guardian. He was everything I wasn't. Most importantly, he wanted it.

But something held me back. And my birthmark stung, which normally wouldn't have fazed me, but the sharp, pinlike pain struck me as a warning. What it was warning me about I couldn't guess. "I need to think about it."

"What are your doubts?" he asked reasonably.

"I can't put my finger on them."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It's just that I'm worried about you. I don't want you to be burdened with hurting another innocent person."

His statement hit me like a wall of ice water. In my mind, I saw Mom lie before me, her eyes blank in death but somehow still wide with shock. I felt a faint rumbling of power inside me, and I wrapped my arms around my middle, as if that'd help contain it.

"Damn it, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He frowned with concern. "It's been so long since I've been a big brother that I'm muddling it. I just want you to be safe and happy. Do what's right for you, Gabby. I'm here to support you. If you need help, you know where to come."

"Thanks." My shoulders relaxed, and the tension in my gut eased. "I appreciate it, Paul."

"It's what I'm here for. Speaking of helping out..." He reached into his interior suit pocket and pulled out a business card. "My personal contact info is on the back. For you, I'm available twenty-four/seven. Don't hesitate to call."

"Okay." I took the card.
Chin Enterprises, Paul Chin, CEO.
I shouldn't have been surprised. Paul was always an overachiever, but it was hard reconciling the boy who used to take every opportunity to yank my hair with the head of a corporation.

"Call me and we'll set up dinner." He leaned back in his chair and downed the rest of his drink. "I want to hear more about this art show you've got coming up."

I blinked. "You know about that?"

"Of course." He smiled indulgently. "It was in the report from my PI."

"Oh." Right.

"You know, my company often gives grants to artists. I could pull some strings." He held his hands up. "I'm just throwing it out there. You should be painting full-time. You don't need to work here."

"I like it here." I tried to moderate the defensiveness in my voice as I slipped his card into my pocket. "But thanks. I'll think about it."

"Great. I'd love to help." He stood up and buttoned his coat. Then he held his arms out to me.

I hesitated only a moment before I slipped into his embrace. It felt foreign—man arms instead of the spindly boyish limbs I remembered. His chest was hard with muscle, and even his scent was different. Expensive. Luxurious. I burrowed closer, trying to find something familiar. But that was irrational—a person changed in fifteen years'. Especially the fifteen years between adolescence and adulthood.

"I'm sorry I waited so long to find you, Gabby." He stroked his hand down my ponytail and pressed a kiss on my forehead. "Call me, okay? Soon."

"Okay." I smiled. As I watched him leave, it struck me how out of place he was here. I picked up the empty glass off the table and ducked back behind the bar.

Vivian was waiting for me. "Ran him off, huh?"

"Actually, Paul gave me his number." I flashed the business card just to piss her off.

"He did," she said flatly, a sour look in her eyes.

"Yeah. He invited me to dinner." I grabbed a Bud from the mini refrigerator, opened the bottle, and plunked it in front of one of the regulars, who leaned patiently across the counter, an empty bottle dangling from his fingertips.

"Thanks, Gabe." The guy dropped a bill on the counter.

I nodded at him before I gave Vivian a brilliant smile. "Paul wants to get to know me."

"Maybe he's desperate." Her tone reeked with spite.

"Or maybe he's just discerning," I replied sweetly.

"Humph." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and flounced off.

I heard her slam a bottle onto the counter and stifled a grin. Without a doubt, I was going to hell for harassing her like that. At the moment, the joy of rediscovering my brother eclipsed any guilt. I turned to help the next customer, feeling more positive about things than I had since I'd received the scroll.

S
o,
Gabby"—Vivian chuckled—"you never said what type of work your
brother
does."

Gritting my teeth, I continued to pour tequila shots for my customer. Vivian had been grilling me about Paul ever since that night he came in—she overheard me tell a customer he was my brother. I was
this
close to strangling her. Not because of the questions but because she was agitating me, and that was making it difficult to keep
tu ch’i
reined in. I almost lost it when she casually commented that if she married him we'd be sisters.

And it was only Tuesday. I had to look forward to a week of this.

She leaned her wide hips against the counter next to me. "He must be like a lawyer or something. Only lawyers wear suits that expensive."

I would have taken great pleasure in telling her she was wrong, but not giving her info would piss her off more. So I paid special attention to mixing a Jack and Coke and kept quiet.

"Or maybe he's in movies. Is he a producer? He's too well dressed to be a director. Kinda strange that in all these years you never mentioned having a brother." She studied her manicured talons. "Especially since he's obviously rich. Shouldn't you be mooching off him while you do your little drawings?"

I faked a smile for my customer and slid the drinks across the counter. Then I wadded up my apron and tossed it into the dirty rag bin. "I'm outta here."

She frowned at the clock. "You still have an hour on your shift."

"I know." I left her sputtering, probably because she wasn't done trying to pry details about Paul out of me, and went to get my coat from the office.

Frankly, I didn't know what to say about Paul. I'd been so happy at the thought of him back in my life. I'd almost called him that night to set up our dinner, but I'd been dealing with the Guardianship's effects. Namely the constant dull throb of my head and the uncontrollable urges to shift mountains.

"Damn
tu ch’i."
I could feel it pulsing just under the surface, waiting for me to show weakness so it could be free. At least that's what it felt like.

I leaned my forehead against the door. For the past four days, all I could think about was his offer. I should just give the scroll to Paul and wash my hands of it. He gave me the perfect out: it'd be with someone who revered it—wanted it—and it'd still be in the family. I'd get my brother back, and I'd be free of
tu ch’i.
Rule number four said the Guardian possessed mad powers while the scroll was in his possession. It stood to reason that if the Guardian passed the scroll on, the powers would go, too.

But Paul wasn't marked.

I scowled at the thought. Who cared? I certainly didn't.

Even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. There was a reason Paul wasn't marked. I didn't know what it was. At this point, I'd be inclined to believe it was simply a cosmic joke—on me.

What I needed was an impartial party—someone I could talk to who would offer me nonjudgmental advice.

Carrie. Not only did I genuinely like her, but she was smart and levelheaded. She'd make a good voice of reason, and she'd been hinting that she wanted to hang out together for a while now ...

On impulse, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number, but it went directly to voice mail. Damn. Probably in a dusty library somewhere.

"Well, Paul's not exactly impartial." I tapped the phone to my lips. The only person left was Jesse.

I banged my head against the door, which made me wince again. I wasn't sure Jesse was still speaking to me after the other day.

One way to find out.

He answered on the third ring. "Gabe."

No sense in drawing things out. "Are you busy now?"

The pause was lengthy, and I could feel him weighing my words. Finally he said, "Nothing I can't change. Meet you at the bar?"

I shook my head. "I'm clocking out early."

"Then I'll see you at It's Tops. Half an hour okay?"

"Yeah." I'd get there early, but I could wait. It's Tops had great fries.

As I walked up 20th, I felt that prickling sense of being followed again. This time, instead of overreacting, I ducked my head and walked briskly. It wasn't like I was leading anyone to the scroll.

Except the feeling not only persisted, it intensified. By the time I turned on Valencia I had to make a conscious effort not to run away.

And then a sleek black car with subtly tinted windows pulled over, rolling at a crawl alongside me.

Fear strangled my breath. In my head I heard Wu instructing me from long ago.
If someone attacks you, finish the fight then and there. Never allow him to take you to a second crime scene. Your chances of escaping alive diminish drastically on their turf.

So I stopped and faced the car, my hands curling into ready fists. I was ending this now.

The car stopped and the passenger window glided down, confusing me. Were they going to drag me inside through the window?

And then I saw the driver and my back stiffened. "What are you doing here?" I asked, more than a little peeved.