Jade Tiger Read Online Free PDF

a small, dark room filled with the raucous noise of a hockey game blaring on the multitude of TV sets embedded in the walls. Taped, no doubt, since few people played hockey in the middle of the night. The place smelled of cheap beer and greasy pizza. About half of the tables and ripped-vinyl booths were occupied by students, their books and papers and cups of coffee or beer arrayed before them like objects on an altar. Shan was momentarily glad that she had skipped the whole college thing. They looked like zombies.
    Except for one.
    The man from the magazine article, Dr. Daniel Buckley, sat in a booth with an almost-empty plastic cup of beer in one hand and a fistful of pretzels in another. He had a round face, a crop of short blond hair, and a stocky build. More like an ex-football player gone soft than a man using his brain for a living.
    "Bucks," Ian said. Shan nodded and motioned for Ian to go first. He squeezed into the booth opposite Buckley, and Shan followed, the messenger bag nestled safely between them. Shan looked up to find Buckley unapologetically scanning her features and breasts.
    "I thought you were grading exams tonight, Dash," said Buckley, keeping his eyes on Shan.
    Shan raised an eyebrow and smirked. Oh, joy. Buckley possessed a frat boy attitude to match his looks.
    "I was grading exams," Ian said quickly. Too quickly. Shan kept her eyes on Buckley, just in case Ian was blushing. For a second, though, she felt her smile become just a bit more genuine than she'd intended.
    "Oh?" said Buckley. "Then I should borrow your syllabus." He extended one meaty paw--thankfully not the one full of pretzels--toward Shan. "Daniel Buckley. Professor Daniel Buckley."
    How, exactly, was the man making every sentence feel lewd? It was a true talent. Shan shook his hand, irritated that she hadn't washed the blood off her knuckles back at Ian's house.
    "Shan."
    Buckley stared deep into her eyes as he changed his grip and pulled her hand toward his mouth for a kiss. Shan smiled sweetly and let him. Was it her fault he was such a stereotypical schmuck? Too bad Buckley looked down at the last second, even as his big, football-player lips were ready to brush her flesh. Apparently, Buckley wasn't a big fan of blood. He dropped her hand instantly and scanned Ian's battered face.
    "What the hell is going on here?"
    "If you're done looking like an idiot, I'll tell you," Ian said. Shan pulled her hand back but left it on the table. She enjoyed the idea that it might make Buckley squirm.
    Ian told Buckley about the crane. He had Shan produce the magazine article. He left out the details of their fight, saying only that the thief had killed the security guard, and that they'd barely escaped with their lives. The account was efficient and accurate, up to a point. She admired Ian's apparent understanding of what Buckley needed to know, and what he didn't need to know. Shrewd, that's what Ian was. Maybe he and Buckley would be able to evade the bad guys after all.
    "Okay," said Buckley. He tossed a pretzel into his mouth and proceeded to talk while eating it. "Assuming I believe you, which I probably do, what's next?" He threw two more pretzels in. "I bet there's some great reason why we can't go to the police, right?"
    Shan and Ian looked at each other. Her turn.
    "Yes, there is," she said. "The people who want the crane have a lot of money. The police, no matter where we are, can't be trusted."
    "Now wait a minute--"
    "The crane belongs to me and my family," Shan continued, "but I doubt the Chinese government would see it that way. I can't afford to have the authorities involved."
    "Come on, Bucks, you know how governments get with their trinkets," Ian said. Shan disliked the word trinket, but she suspected Ian had chosen it on purpose.
    "Yeah, I know how it is," Buckley said, "but this means you're picking up the tab, Dash. And I'm about to get very, very drunk."
    "No, you're not," Shan said. "You and Ian need to get out of town,