Chapter 15

 

Clint waved at the security guard as the automatic gate at Vandergrift Towers opened and he drove through in his pearl-white Escalade. He whipped the large vehicle through a couple of turns to his covered parking slot. He’d received their passports with the visas for China affixed. That was the good news. He’d also gotten a call from the client, Tong Chen Enterprises, and the conversation left him grinding his teeth.

He picked up his briefcase and a rolled set of blueprints and tucked his phone into his shirt pocket as he got out of the car. His toe began tapping the moment the elevator doors closed, and by the time he reached the penthouse his body felt like a tautly pulled rope that could snap at any second. He took a deep breath before letting himself into the condo.

“Honey Bear! You’re home!” Kaycie rushed him like some kindergarten kid. Couldn’t she just back off and smile a little less sometimes?

“Our passports came through,” he said, hoping to distract her so he could think what to do. “So now you know the surprise—we’re going to China.”

She squealed and it was all he could do not to grimace at the decibel level.

“Here’s some brochures about Shanghai. Have fun packing—we’re leaving Friday.”

She’d found the visa sticker in her passport. “Ohmygod, look! There’s my name in Chinese characters. Honey Bear, this is so cool.” Her eyes sparkled and the dazzle of her smile could light the room. He didn’t have the energy for this right now.

“Yeah. Cool.” He dropped his briefcase on the coffee table. “Look, I got some calls to make. Can you—?”

“Ooh, I gotta tell Mom. She’s been dying to know all about the trip. And you know what—I think I’ll need some different clothes for China.” She walked toward the bedroom, flipping through the brochures.

She picked up her phone from the king-sized bed and punched a number. When her voice went all excited, talking to her mother, he gently closed the door between them. He went to the bar at the end of the living room and poured himself a generous single-malt Scotch. Half of it went down at the first slug, burning his gullet all the way.

He sat at the kitchen counter and brought out his phone, going back through the texts he’d received this afternoon, first from Rudy Tong at Tong Chen Enterprises. He reread to be sure he understood what the battered English message meant. They wanted to draft several million dollars from his bank into the Chinese escrow account for construction materials, but their deposit to him wasn’t yet showing in his own account. Complicating matters was the fact that most of Clint’s money existed in small amounts in multiple banks.

He logged onto his largest business account, entered a number and waited while the little circle whirled to indicate it was processing the information. After a frustratingly long time, a message popped up: This transaction is not allowed at this time.

Clint growled at the stupid website and tried again. Even with a smaller amount, the transaction wouldn’t go through. Dammit—what’s with the rush from these guys? I like doing things the way I’m used to doing them.

He took another gulp of the booze and called Derek Woo, wondering, not for the first time, whether it had been smart to get involved with the Chinese at his attorney’s suggestion. Well, it was a little late for that now. Once the funds landed in his account he would neatly shuffle the money around and no one would be able to simply draft what they wanted. He sat up straighter. Clint Holbrook was no fool—he’d done plenty of business transactions and he knew his stuff.

Woo didn’t pick up and the ‘leave a message’ voice came on.

“Yeah, Derek, we gotta talk,” he said, leaving it at that. Let the other guy come to him.

He drained his glass, feeling the muscles in his neck relax, and left his phone on the kitchen counter.

In the bedroom, Kaycie was strutting around in a little one-piece thing that barely covered her, all pink lace and blond hair and shiny toenails. A suitcase lay open on the bed and she crossed the room, bringing a dozen garments from the closet.

“I can’t decide what to pack.”

“Let’s think about it later,” he said, scooping the clothes into the suitcase and setting the whole batch on the floor. He took her hand and spun her into his embrace. “I got other things on my mind right now, Babycakes.”

She giggled. “I’m supposed to meet Mom at Fashion Square in an hour.”

“Oh, baby, it’s not going to take that long.”