He knew Henshaw had things under control with regard to the Dragon’s sudden interest in Annja. That wasn’t the problem. The problem lay in the fact that if he had to sit there and stare at those same four walls for another minute he was going to go nuts. Why did Henshaw have him hiding out anyway? Annja was the one in danger, not him!

“Enough of this!” he said to himself, and got up to dress for dinner. Roux had old-fashioned tastes and one of the things that he appreciated about the Waldorf was that you were expected to be properly dressed for dinner. None of this casual-dress nonsense that seemed to have become the norm, and thank the heavens for that, he thought.

Attired in a crisp blue suit and matching tie, Roux headed for the main dining room.

Two hours later he was relaxing after his meal over a glass of brandy when he spotted the most exquisite young woman sitting alone several tables away. She was Asian, looked to be in her twenties, and was dressed in a figure-hugging black dress that highlighted her every curve. She had that classic porcelain-doll look—pale skin, full red lips, her long hair as dark as oil at midnight.

Her beauty wasn’t what had attracted his attention, however, but rather the fact that she had been casting surreptitious glances in his direction throughout his meal.

It appeared he’d found something that would make a worthwhile diversion for the evening.

Roux’s success with young women was matched only by his skill at the poker table. The trick, he knew, was to make them think it was all their idea.

He caught and held her glance for a long moment, then signaled for his bill. When the waiter brought it, he signed it to his room and, taking his drink with him, he moved across the restaurant to the bar on the other side of the room.

He intentionally chose a seat several chairs away from anyone else and waited, knowing the conclusion was already a foregone one.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a feminine voice asked.

Roux turned to find the young beauty from the restaurant indicating the chair beside him, a smile on her face and a spark in her eyes.

“Please,” he replied, smiling back. “Be my guest.”

She slid deftly onto the seat, managing to look extraordinarily graceful and at the same time giving him a flash of tanned and supple thigh through the slit in the side of her dress as she did so.

Roux couldn’t help but smile.

It was going to be an interesting evening, after all.

The bartender wandered over. Roux’s new companion glanced at his glass and said, “I’ll have one of what he’s having.”

Roux raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

She turned to face him. “Aren’t you even going to ask me my name?” she asked with a smile.

“No. If you want me to know it I’m sure that you’ll tell me eventually.”

“And if I don’t?” There was amusement in her voice.

“Then our lovemaking will be all the more passionate for the mystery.”

She laughed aloud at that one. “That’s rather forward of you. What gives you the idea that I intend to sleep with you?”

“Because a woman like you can’t resist a challenge.” Roux grinned and extended his hand. “But if it will set you at ease, my name is Roux.”

Her grip was strong. “Hello, Roux.”

Now it was Roux’s turn to laugh when she didn’t give her name in return. “I take it that puts the ball firmly in my court?”

The bartender returned with her drink and she took a healthy swallow of the one-hundred-and-thirty-year-old brandy as if she had it every day.

“Do you think you are up to it?” she asked.

“We’ll never know unless we give it a try, now, will we?”

Her eyes smoldered. “What did you have in mind?”

Roux shrugged. “How about we retire to my suite and see what we can do with a full bottle of this fine brandy?”

“An excellent suggestion.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll tell you my name when we’re finished.”

“Whatever the lady desires,” Roux replied.

He signed the check, asked for a bottle to be delivered to his suite and then extended an arm to the gorgeous young creature by his side.

They didn’t say much in the elevator, though more than a few sidelong glances passed between them. They made some small talk about nothing of consequence on the way to his suite and arrived to find room service already waiting outside with their order.

Roux opened the door, let his guest inside and then dealt with the room-service waiter. He left the cart in the entrance hallway where it wouldn’t be in their way and, drinks in hand, Roux returned to living room, only to find it empty. The bedroom door was open and a pair of high heels lay discarded in the entrance. Just beyond, her cast-off dress lay in a pool of silk.

Her voice floated out of the darkened bedroom. “Bring me that drink, Roux. I’m thirsty.”

Never one to deny a beautiful woman, he did as he was told, an I-told-you-so grin on his face.

The lights were off in the bedroom, but there was enough illumination coming through the thin curtains covering the windows to reveal his guest, now naked, languishing across his sheets. The light cast dappled shadows across her sensuous form and as she rolled to face him the tattoo of the dragon that covered much of her taut young flesh seemed to ripple and writhe, as if the creature was rising to life from the surface of her skin.

“Come to bed, Roux.”

As uncharacteristic as it was of him, Roux again did as he was told.

24

Annja kept walking, but began to steer herself toward one of the side paths, away from the crowds. She knew the layout of the park pretty well and was counting on the fact that her mysterious follower more than likely did not. It would give her the chance to spring the trap that she was getting ready to set.

The direction she chose led the two of them along a paved footpath through a thick copse of trees. A few hundred yards into the trees was an old discarded construction pipe, the kind that was large enough to drive a truck through. At night it would be a haven for drunks and junkies, a place to avoid the police patrols that routinely went through the park, but at this hour it would more than likely be empty.

It was there that Annja intended to spring her ambush.

The trail took a quick little dogleg before it reached that particular point in the walkway, and as soon as she knew she was out of sight, Annja broke into a jog. Reaching the construction pipe, she slipped inside, her back to the wall.

It took a few minutes but soon she heard the hurried pace of her pursuer. Annja waited until he stepped past the mouth of the pipe and then she struck.

Stepping out of the shadows, she grabbed him by the shirtfront and hauled him back into the pipe, using her momentum to slam him against the nearby wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Half a second later she had the tip of her sword against his throat.

“You’ve got ten seconds to start talking,” she said, applying a little pressure to the blade for emphasis.

“No need for violence, Ms. Creed,” a familiar voice said in response.

Lowering her sword, Annja stepped back, surprise and annoyance vying for dominance on her face. “Henshaw! What are you doing here?”

In his typically unruffled kind of way, Roux’s man replied, “Following you.”

He glanced down at the sword in her hand. “And not very well apparently.”

Annja released the sword. She wasn’t in any danger. Not from Henshaw.