Black Karma Read Online Free PDF Page B

two ways to avoid the arranged date—death or marriage.
    â€œIs there anything else I should know?” she asked.
    Elizabeth looked as if there were more she wanted to say but seemed reluctant to speak. Finally, she shook her head as if to discount her own concerns. “Try not to scare him.”

Chapter 5
    The limousine arrived as promised. Jason wasn’t inside. The driver, Martin, whom Bai knew well as a friend and trusted triad soldier, opened the rear door for her.
    â€œYou look nice, Bai,” he remarked as he gestured toward the open door.
    Having taken Lee’s advice, she’d worn the red silk. The short cocktail dress barely covered the knife sheathed on the inside of her thigh. The length showed off her long legs. A draped bodice left one shoulder bare and deflected attention from her broad shoulders. A long black silk scarf wrapped her neck, while red and black Ferragamo stilettos flawlessly completed her look.
    She turned to Martin. “Where are you taking me?”
    A large, blocky man with a talent for taking orders, Martin wore suits too large in a wasted effort to disguise the weapons he carried. When he shook his head, his bulk made him look like an agitated elephant. His shoulders rocked back and forth in denial. “I can’t say, Bai.”
    She took a step toward him. He took a hesitant step back with a startled look.
    â€œYou can’t say, or you won’t say?” she asked tersely.
    â€œYes,” he replied while gesturing at the open door of the limousine.
    She balked with a scowl on her face, her arms crossed.
    He grimaced and pleaded with her. “Please. I’ve got orders. I just do what I’m told.”
    She couldn’t fault him for following orders. Jason could be a demanding and unforgiving man. He could also be amazingly kind and generous. Like most people, Martin had learned how to stay in his good graces: he did exactly what Jason told him to do.
    â€œI hate surprises,” she muttered as she slipped into the limo.
    â€œNot nearly as much as I do,” he mumbled as he closed the door.
    She settled into the back of the limo where she found another surprise, a bottle of sixty-year-old Macallan’s in a Lalique decanter. An ice bucket filled with frozen spring water the size and shape of golf balls sat next to the bottle. The scotch balls would melt more slowly than ice cubes while chilling the alcohol more efficiently.
    She eyed the bottle suspiciously. The obvious ploy had all the earmarks of a trap. Jason knew she loved great scotch. He also knew she had a low tolerance for alcohol. Putting her in a comfortable car with deep leather cushions, gentle music, a fine scotch, and nothing else to do was his way of softening her up, a childishly transparent strategy.
    Silently rebuking herself for giving in to temptation, she broke the seal on the decanter and made herself a drink. Knowing she was being manipulated didn’t alter her appreciation for the fine whiskey. The amber liquid tasted like a combination of vanilla and licorice with heavy peat and a touch of smoke. Smooth and cold, it gently warmed her throat, the heat slowly spreading to her chest and belly.
    She sighed and realized that for the first time in weeks she felt truly relaxed. Wrapped in the cocoon of a bulletproof limousine with the most amazing beverage, she luxuriated and raised her glass.
    â€œXie Xie!”
    Two drinks and an hour later she vaguely remembered crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and traveling east off of the freeway into wine country. Eventually, Martin drove up a long lane between rows of grapevines. The limousine came to a stop in a circular motor court paved with brick.
    The door opened, and Jason looked in to offer her his hand. She found herself genuinely happy to see him and smiled broadly as she stepped out of the car. After the noise and bustle of San Francisco, the absolute peace of their surroundings felt like a soothing