Burn (31 page)

“There was a policeman outside the house the day
Cinder was moving,” Zae said. “According to the officer’s
statement, Sumchai asked the officer’s permission to enter
the house. The cop, who was there to protect her from
him, told him he could go in as long as he made it quick.
The prosecution tried to work that into conspiracy.”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t understand why he
let the man go into the house.”

“He said Sumchai looked like ‘a nice guy,’” Zae told her.

“Don’t they all, until they break their wives in half or
shoot them to death,” Chip speculated.

“The defense convinced the judge that there was no
premeditation, and so Sumchai pleaded out to the lesser
charge,” Zae said. “He was convicted and sentenced to three years in prison.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Chip said.

“His attorney pulled some strings and got him a
parole hearing six months into his sentence.” Zae moved
to stand at the back of Chip’s chair. “Cinder spoke at it
and he was denied. She knew she had to get out of
Massachusetts before he was released. She called me and
I went up there to help her settle things. A few months
later, she moved down here. She’s finally starting her life
over.”

“I won’t have Karl giving her a second of fear or
unhappiness,” Gian vowed.

“
Do you think she’ll be happy when she finds out you
went over there and nearly caved in his face?” Natasha
asked.

Gian attempted to defend his actions. “The man needed a warning. He got it. It’s over, as far as I’m concerned.”

“It better be, or we’ll have to form a line to whoop Karl’s ass,” Chip promised.

“You can’t fight a phantom, Gian,” Zae pointed out.
“You can’t triumph over a phantom.”

Gian gathered the bandage wrappers and balled them
up. “I don’t understand.”

“Any man who scares or hurts Cinder will make you
think of Sumchai Wyatt,” Zae started. “When you went
after Karl, you were really going after Sumchai.”

“I thought your degrees were in English and
Literature,” Gian said. “Don’t assign amateur psychology
to—”

“Zae’s right, and no one needs a psych degree to know
that you are in stupid love with Cinder,” Natasha put in.
“You’d do anything to keep her safe. What wouldn’t you
do to undo what happened to her?”

“Nothing,” Gian exhaled.

Zae went to Gian. She warmly clasped his shoulder,
then sat on the edge of his desk, facing him. “You can’t
fight the monsters of her past, Gian. You know that.”

“You’re right. I can’t. But for now and the future, I can do my best to keep the rest of the monsters away from her.”

His elbows resting on his desk, Gian laced his fingers
at the crown of his head and closed his eyes. He relaxed
his face—no easy task, considering he had been smiling
for five straight hours.

After Natasha had gone back to her store, Gian had
tried to direct conversation in the office to Chip and Zae,
and why they had been at Grogan’s together at lunch.
Without answering, they had fled the dojo, each escaping
in different directions. Hunger had begun to override his anger, and Gian had been deciding where to go for a late
lunch when a man in a sharp business suit trotted across
the street from Grogan’s.

Great
, Gian had thought, both dismayed and amazed
at how quickly Sean Grogan had gotten his attorney
involved following the melée at his store.

The well-dressed man with his severe side part was an
attorney, but he hadn’t come to Sheng Li on behalf of
Grogan’s, which Gian discovered when, hand out
stretched, the man greeted him in the lobby. “Hi, my
name is Michael Steele and I’d like to sign up for lessons.
Are you taking new students?”

Michael Steele looked like he’d be more comfortable
on the back nine, brokering a deal between major corpo
rations rather than punching and kicking barefoot in the
d
ojo. But then Gian remembered all the coupons he’d
given out the night before. He always had an influx of
new students in the days after Halloween.

“The coupon is only good for one free lesson,” Gian emphasized as he led Mr. Steele into the dojo. “But if you
sign up for a full package, I’m sure we can work out a dis
count of some kind.”

“I don’t have a coupon,” Mr. Steele said. Following
Gian’s example, he removed his shoes and bowed before
stepping onto the mat. “I was picking up lunch at
Grogan’s a couple of hours ago, and, well, I got quite an
eyeful.”

Gian stopped halfway to his office. “I’m sorry, who
did you say you were representing?”

“I’m not here on business.” Mr. Steele laughed. “I
want to learn to fight like you did. I just came from
Grogan’s. I asked about you and they sent me here.” He
boomed with laughter. “You should see the soda section.
They’ve got it cordoned off like a hazmat site!”

“That really wasn’t my proudest moment,” Gian said
and grimaced. “What I did over there this afternoon goes
completely against the philosophy of self-discipline I
teach at Sheng Li. If you came here because you want me
to teach you how to behave like a complete dumbass,
then you’ve got the wrong dojo.”

“I was told that you were fighting over a woman, ” Mr. Steele mentioned.

“For. Not over.”

“I’m not here to learn to be a bully. I travel overseas
quite a lot for business,” Mr. Steele said. “I want to be a
ble to handle myself, should something untoward occur.
And of course, I want to know that I can protect my
loved ones if the need should arise. Proud moment or
not, you couldn’t ask for better exposure than your fight
in Grogran’s.” Mr. Steele tipped his head toward the
lobby. “See for yourself.”

Gian looked back. Several men and women, one of
whom he recognized as a Grogan’s cashier, stood reading
his glossy, tri-fold brochures. A few more people were
entering. Stunned, Gian took his cell phone from his
back pocket. He ushered Mr. Steele into his office, then
stepped into the corridor to call Chip.

“Hey,” Gian said once Chip answered. “Do you think you could come down to the dojo?” He peered into the
studio. The small lobby was quickly filling. “No, I haven’t
beaten anyone else up . . . I’m the one who’ll take a
beating if you don’t get here as soon as possible . . .”

* * *

Having skipped lunch, Gian was starved by the time
he climbed up to Cinder’s apartment, taking the steep
pine stairs two at a time. He knocked on her door,
announcing himself as well to hasten the time-con
suming process of dislodging her police bar, unfastening
security chains at the sides and top of the door, and
turning each of the deadbolts.

As always, Cinder left the chains for last, peeking
through the door gap before opening it. She greeted him
in silence, but that wasn’t the thing that tipped him off.

C
ooking was perhaps her favorite pastime, and she went
at it with a concentration and determination that baffled
him. There had been times when he had arrived to see a
half dozen pots and skillets bubbling, sizzling or
steaming. Whenever he visited, he stuck his nose in the
air to figure out what she had prepared. The heady perfume of oregano, basil, and garlic mixed with the succu
lent scent of ground veal, pork, and sirloin let him know
that one of her Italian specialties was in the works.
Cardamom, nutmeg, cumin, and cinnamon reminded
him of the few good things about his military deploy
ments to the Middle East. Her skill with Asian ingredi
ents wasn’t limited to her expertise at balancing aromatics like five-spice, aniseed, and chili peppers. It also encom
passed her fearlessness at working with atypical fare—live
eels, octopus, squid, and even sea cucumber.

Usually, the aromas from her kitchen started him
drooling before he even knew what she was preparing. But instead of a gourmet meal, Gian smelled the faint
citrus of furniture polish and the exotic floral spice of the
scented candles she favored. She hadn’t cooked, and right
then he knew that she had learned of his run-in with
Karl.

Small town living,
he thought with a sigh, entering
and securing the door.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he told her. He kissed her
temple. “I had a rush of new students sign up tonight.”

She said nothing, only padded into the living room.
Sitting in her favorite spot on her sofa, she tucked her
legs beneath her.

“
So I guess you heard what happened today.” He
paused at the kitchen, peeping in to make certain that no
dinner awaited.

“I heard.”

Her eyes seemed darker, shinier. They followed him
as he approached. He sat opposite her in an overstuffed
library chair. “Did Zae tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t. If I’d known a public brawl would be so good for business, I’d have kicked Karl’s ass
a long time ago.”

“Do you think what you did this afternoon is funny?”
“I’m not laughing.”

“I’ve lived here in peace and quiet for over a year, and
in one day, you’ve turned me into the subject of town
gossip. That’s the one thing I’ve assiduously tried to
avoid—having people talk about me!”

“They don’t know your name.”

“Don’t they?”

“Do you really think this will get back to him? Come
on . . .”

“Everybody knows somebody who knows somebody
who knows you! The world is a lot smaller than you think
it is! It’s only a matter of time before he finds me, and
comes here.” Her voice cracked.

“And gets his ass kicked or killed,” Gian assured
Cinder, moving to sit beside her.

“You can’t protect me. I know you want to, and that means so much to me, but you’re not like him. You don’t
fight to kill.”

“No? I think my body count is higher than his.”

“You never used deadly force against anyone because
you
wanted
to. That’s the difference between you and
Sumchai Wyatt.”

“I’m not a five-and-a-half-foot-tall woman who tops the scale at 140. Your ex will have to go through me and
all of Sheng Li to get to you.”

“What are you going to do? Take him out back and
beat him up?” She gave him an exasperated shake of her
head.

“No. You will. That’s why you came to me, isn’t it? So
that your ex could never hurt you again?”

“There are ways to hurt people other than hitting or
stabbing them.” She articulated each word. “When he
canceled our plans to go to a wedding at the last minute,
when he accidentally—or so he claimed—erased the
presentation I was going to give at work when I was in
the running for a major account, each time he neglected
to tell me that my mother had called . . .” She paused to
catch her breath. “There are thousands of ways to wound
someone without laying a hand on them, and Sumchai is
a master at it.”

“You have your own life now, sweetheart. What can
he take from you?

“You,” she answered quickly. “Or Zae, or Chip. He
might go after my parents in Massachusetts, or—”

Gian pulled her into his arms and held her close. “My God, you’re tense.” He rubbed her arms, hoping to soften
her muscles and still the fluttering of her heart. “I’m
sorry, doll. I’m so, so sorry. If I’d known—”