DISCLAIMER ========== This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2003 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002
The Lieutenant would be on time as usual. In the Shanghai of 2064, you could count on three things - death, taxes and the dependable Lieutenant Adam Li of the Shanghai Police Department.
It was five minutes to the appointed time but there was no doubt that Adam would be there. Standing at the balcony of his newly furnished apartment, Quinton Post half-smiled to himself as he pocketed his watch. It was an old-fashioned time-device that would have earned derisive laughter from his hip, more technologically advanced colleagues at the studio but Quinton Post was a man who appreciated and valued the past.
Apart from its historical value that was incalculable, the small antique pocket watch that just barely fit into the palm of his hand retained significant emotional value for him. When the mainland Chinese ports had first opened their gates to the barbarous gwei-los after the Opium War, the first Post had sailed into Shanghai with his eyes full of greed, his heart full of dreams and a pocket filled with only one pocket watch that had been passed down from his own forebears. Since then, a succession of Posts had settled down and remained in East Asia - later relocating to safer harbour in Hong Kong, slowly building on what would become Post Industries. The fledgling trading company started by an intrepid adventurer named Marcus Post almost three centuries ago had diversified into so many branches with so many little fingers dipped into as many profitable pies that it boggled even Quinn himself. The thought that he might one day be called upon to lend a hand in that enterprise terrified him.
It was the perfect summer night with the balmy breeze coming through from the river, a full moon in the velvet dark sky and a hot pot of jasmine tea brewing on the bar. From the view from his apartment, Quinton could appreciate both the past and the present with the aged, stately colonial buildings of the Bund on the one side of the wide Huangpu river overlooking the gleaming, futuristic spires of the Pudong on the opposite side. Though he would have easily died rather than confess such a lowering thought to his cousins, he was glad to be home. It wasn't that he had failed in his purpose since he had actually made quite a success of himself in the city he'd made his temporary home. The City of New York had been good to him, honing, grooming and preparing him for this opportunity but the golden chance for a prime-time news anchor on one of Asia's top news channels had been just the perfect excuse he needed to return home.
That - and the fact that his uncle, the patriach of the family, had accidentally run into an assassin's knife.
The time for grief had passed but Quinn still took the time to lift up a cup to his late uncle. No genial, loving uncle was he but Maurice Post had done the best he could with his wayward nephew. Instead of buckling down and taking up one of the posts ready made for him in one of the various branches of the family organization, Quinn had instead escaped half round the globe to pursue journalism in New York. Hard-headed, pragmatic and driven by the twin goals of his life which was duty to the family and servitude to the company, Maurice had puzzled over his nephew's unfathomable behaviour but had wished him well - and no doubt good riddance to such bad influence in the family.
A billboard blimp drifted past his view and Quinton stared transfixed at the ad for Channel 88. If anything confirmed the fact that he had made a name for himself, it was seeing his image, the slickly handsome features and the toothy smile advertising for the primetime news. Grinning to himself, he wondered what his cousins would think. The sudden return of the black sheep - of sorts - to the fold hadn't been greeted with the proverbial fatted calf as he'd expected. On his second week back on the job, Quinn had stalked into his uncle's home office after an urgent summons to find the office drawers in disarray and his uncle clutching a sharp, pearl-handled dagger plunged into his chest.
Annoyed at himself for blindly agreeing to the meeting, Lieutenant Adam Li aimed his glare at the ad blimp that drifted ponderously above. Oblivious to violence of his feelings, the object of his anger only smiled back at him. The infamous Quinton Post reporting live for Channel 88 Primetime.
Everywhere he looked he could see things that reminded him of Quinton Post. Amongst the shoppers and tourists strolling down the Bund, he could see the familiar stylized P shopping bag that symbolized Post Department Stores. Barely half a block down stood the neoclassical Post House with their signature twin lions standing proudly in front. Built almost two centuries ago by the first Post, the building had housed their growing enterprise till the Communists had taken over and Post Industries had made the decision to relocate to Hong Kong. It had been more than half a century ago that Post Industries had taken over their former headquarters and made it their own again. Just like their golden boy Quinton who had travelled half the globe before returning to Shanghai.
No doubt Adam had been a fool when he had agreed to the meet. When Quinton Post had first made that offer, Adam had maintained his adamant refusal. Without a second thought, he instinctively knew that it was too dangerous to be alone with the man although he wasn't exactly sure of the reason behind it. The man was too slickly handsome, too charming, too aggressive in his attentions. Fully intending to have his eager junior partner, Song Heon, take the interview, he was unprepared for the challenge and dare in the man's eyes. It was obvious that Quinton fully expected him to back away and that very notion made him change his mind which lead him inevitably to the man's doorstep. It galled him to realize that he couldn't refuse that challenging smile on the dark, striking face, the faintly amused gleam in the vividly green gaze. Like a child being taunted in the schoolyard, he had been goaded into agreeing to come for the meeting alone.
It annoyed him that the man had obviously pegged him perfectly but he found it impossible to back down from the bastard.
There were other things that he should have been doing instead of this such as standing by his partner as the younger detective interviewed the servants from the Post mansion but no, he didn't think Song Heon would have appreciated that. A few months ago after Song Heon had received his well-earned promotion, the younger detective had begged for a bigger role in their partnership and Adam was standing firm by their decision. After all, he believed that Song Heon needed to stand on his own two feet without second-guessing his own instincts.
Failing that, he would have just dropped by one of the glide-carts by his apartment building, picked up some mediocre soy dim sum, steamed vegetarian chicken and some Chinese tea pellets for dinner. Then he'd switch on the screen to any other channel but the news to tune out the cares of the day.
All that hadn't happened of course since Adam Li didn't back away from anything. With a whispered curse for the smug Post, he'd jumped on the subway which brought him all the way to the center of the city and spat him out onto the Bund, in front of one of the posh apartment buildings that lined the riverside. Inside, Adam easily gauged the quality of the residents and looking around, he guessed that the plush carpeting cost more than his 6 month salary. Preoccupied with his observation, he failed to notice several tenants giving him admiring glances. His superior height and well-built physique would have easily earned him that second look but there was something more about him that drew the eye. A certain keen, intelligence in those dark eyes that spoke of the cop. The slow, measured walk and sleek, catlike moves that spoke of the martial artist.
The glances didn't worry him but a certain man in the penthouse suite did. Worried him enough that Adam toyed with the idea of turning back and tossing the damned reporter into an interview room just to rile the bastard. A night in the cage would get rid of that superior smirk damned quick. Damn, he would have enjoyed clamping a pair of cuffs on those elegant wrists. Although the idea pleased him, Adam didn't hold on to the cherished notion any longer than he believed he could have held on to the man. Seconds after being tossed in a cage, the heir to Post Industries could have a battalion of slick, terribly expensive lawyers in their shiny shoes ready to spring him. Money had always been the byword in cosmopolitan Shanghai - and probably always would.
There was no need to analyze the reason for the quick sexual thrill that went through him as he thought of Quinton in cuffs. As the many new viewers of the evening news would attest to, Quinton Post was seriously iced - and dangerously attractive. Sleek, sharp planes, the slash of high cheekbones, full lips made up an exotic, arresting face that hinted at his mixed heritage. His bio mentioned brown hair but it didn't mention the how the thick, lustrous curls of brown had a hint of vibrant red interspersed. His eyes were the most amazing shade of green he'd ever seen, the green of a newly unfurled leaf after a morning rain. All that coupled with the fit, lithe physique of a natural athlete made up Quinton Post, Shanghai's hottest acquisition onscreen and New York's loss.
Raw sex appeal Quinton Post had in spades but the fact that the man appealed, despite being a suspect in his case, annoyed Adam. Sexual hunger he could deal with and easily understand since he admitted to himself that he hadn't had satisfying intercourse for the past year but what he couldn't understand was his reluctant fascination with the man.
Calling up the information he'd collected on his notebook, Adam ran his gaze over Quinton's official bio. The entertainment info listed him as an up-and-coming young journalist who had recently returned from chairing primetime news in New York. What his bio failed to mention was the fact that he came from serious blue-blooded wealth. Enormous, incalculable wealth that had begun centuries back when his first ancestor had opened the doors of what would later become Post Industries. His earlier impression of a spoiled, pampered socialite who catered only to his own wishes and had turned his back on his duties and responsibilities had been hastily revised at their first meeting. Although Quinton Post came dressed looking the part in a stylish suit that cost more than his six-month salary combined, there was a certain look in his eyes, a sudden and unexpected punch of power that surprised him. This was not a man to be taken lightly.
It was up to Adam to find out whether Marcus had fatally misjudged his nephew in the same manner. The fact that the same green-eyed look had knocked him off his feet was something that he would deal with later.
He would have been ridiculously handsome if he hadn't worked hard to tone down his looks. As if the Lieutenant already guessed the inevitable effects of his smile and was faintly embarassed by it, he kept those lips firmly thinned into a disapproving line. If he only smiled, Quinton Post imagined that boyish dimples would creep up on the edges of the smile. There was no disguising the flawless gold skin stretched smooth over high cheekbones and the heroic square jaw, slightly indented. Those eyes, dark, soulful, almost coal-black in colour with amazingly long, lush lashes were kept hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, no doubt a part of the cop's disguise since he could easily treat any vision impairments at one of the respected eye centers in town. If they could only see what he saw, Channel 88 would snap this man up in a second on account of that charismatic face alone but he doubted that the man would appreciate that thought.
Although he had never seen the lieutenant stripped down, Quinn could tell that beneath the uniform of battered leather jacket and tailored slacks was a lean, mean physique that his colleagues would die for. Giving rein to his vivid imagination, he could see hard, tight slabs of muscle for pecs, a tight, ridged six-pack, long, well-muscled limbs and he also knew that for the first time, the reality would certainly outstrip anything he could possibly imagine. Wondering what the lieutenant would think of being lusted after as a sex object, Quinn smiled quietly to himself. What would the man do if he was to be jumped on and had his clothes torn off in a sudden frenzy? Would those sexy lips turn into a pout? Those dark, almond-shaped eyes dilate with shock?
That particular thought had been in his head since the day they'd met when the handsome lieutenant had arrived on the murder scene. Laughing cynically to himself, he seriously doubted the cop shared his feelings. Cucumber cool, clinical and impeccably professional, Adam had drawn the devil out of him as he'd tried his best to shake that unflappable cool.
Just as the police had no doubt dug up his own painfully thin file, Quinton had hired his own investigators to find out what made Adam Li tick. The only son of a dedicated police officer who had relinquished his own badge after the death of his wife, presumably murdered. Taking the aforesaid son under his wing, he'd retreated back to the countryside to bring him up and started a small martial arts school. The study of martial arts honed Adam's impressive physique while his father's background and upbringing had instilled a stern, no-nonsense work ethic and an insatiable thirst for justice in the young police officer. As young as he was, he had been involved in a couple of prominent cases and had quickly risen up the ranks.
Stoically single, the lieutenant lived in a cramped little flat in the Old City and seemed to have no life apart from his professional one. Lieutenant Adam Li of the Shanghai Police Department walked the straight and narrow and all that jazz. For himself, Quinn decided that he preferred life with a little more... spice.
The long, cool assessment he'd received standing at the door didn't seem to faze the detective at all. Meeting Quinn's gaze calmly, he announced his arrival quietly. "I am here, as you requested, Mr Post."
"Call me Quinn." Stepping aside to allow the man to pass, Quinn swung the door wide open. "Come in then."
"Wan an." Taking a step forward, he drew out his badge from his jacket and held it up. "Lieutenant Adam Li. Homicide."
"You've got to be kidding me." The serious, forbidding expression coupled with the cliched, oft-spoken phrase tickled Quinn's ready sense of humour and he smiled. "Do you guys really say that too?"
If anything, the man's expression became even more forbidding and ridiculous though it sounded, Quinn had the urge to reach over and press a kiss on those sexy lips. Any other time, he would have given in to the irrational impulse if he hadn't imagined that the cop would have gladly thrown him in a cage for aggravated assault.
Giving no reply to Quinn's attempt at humour, the man pocketed his badge and stepped in. "Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter, Mr Post?"
"Yes, believe me this is not my first time. I've managed to worm my way into a few murder investigations in my time." Remembering some of his experiences in New York had Quinn smiling to himself and he shook his head as he recalled some of the police officers he'd known then. As the man followed protocol and brought out his recorder, Quinn stopped him. "Shut it down. We'll do the interview after."
Confused, his heavy, dark brows drew together. "Mr Post, if there's nothing else you might want to add to the evidence you gave earlier..."
"What's the rush, lieutenant?" Expecting the quick escape, Quinn quickly closed off his only means of escape by coolly shutting the door. From the sudden flash in the lieutenant's dark eyes and the swift, practised way he shifted his stance, Quinn realized that he risked being torn apart limb from limb but he figured he was safe with the badge. "Afraid?"
Still unsure of his motives, Adam hesitated for a moment. "What do you want, Mr Post?"
"Just a drink, mayber dinner. I bet you didn't eat anything before you came," Quinn said calmly. Perhaps one day he'd tell the man exactly what depraved, unspeakable sexual acts he wanted to commit on that lean, sexy body but right now, Quinn decided not to risk certain death. From the warning glance and the way the Adam's hand had moved down to his pocket, no doubt to retrieve his stunner, Quinn decided to make his next move a little slower as not to provoke the man. "And maybe later.."
The implied come-on was unmistakable and Adam stiffened angrily, his dark eyes narrowing. The facade of cool professionalism slipped a moment. "Look, I didn't come here for dinner or to socialize, Mr Post. I came here to look at the collection you mentioned."
"The daggers?" Quinn smiled slyly. "That couldn't be the only reason you dropped by, could it?"
"You're involved in an investigation that I'm the primary for." Annoyed at the sudden palpitation of his heart and his sweaty palms at the man's words, Adam's voice grew cold. The inexplicable reaction to Quinton Post irritated him.
There was a streak of controlled violence under that frosty reserve and Quinton's smile grew wider. Something hot and primal had leapt up in the lieutenant's eyes earlier and he wondered what he could do to get that back. "Am I a suspect in my uncle's murder?"
The thought that Post could make him lose control like that made him even angrier. "I am not at liberty to make a statement at the present moment but I can assure you that there will still be no..."
The officious little twat. "Perhaps."
"No," Adam replied firmly.
Leading the way through the opulent surroundings to the living room, Quinton shook his head as he walked. "I believe you have a suspicious mind, Lieutenant."
Black eyes met his coolly. "I think I have quite enough reason to be suspicious of a man like you, Mr Post."
"Quinn," he insisted again. It was a name that he would probably never grow used to. "Mr Post was buried two days ago in the family cemetery."
When Quinn was still a child, his father had been Mr Post and after his death, his own brother - Quinn's uncle. It was a name almost synonymous with the company itself since a Mr Post had always been at the head of the company since its murky beginnings centuries ago except for two remarkable ladies who had managed to work their way into that coveted chair. One of them had been his own great-great-grandmother, the redoubtable Lady Jasmine Post who had reputedly ruled the family - and the company with an iron fist. A portrait of the brilliant, exotically beautiful Chinese lady in a stately chi-pao hung in the lobby of the family home. Elegance and class had marked the fair, fragile-looking aristocrat and yet she managed to steer the company through two disastrous world wars nearly intact.
Other than the old tea set, his new apartment was still devoid of the exquisite antiques that characterized his last apartment in New York but he knew that his boxes would arrive soon. Brought in by Post Shipping of course. But at the moment, even his living room was spartan-like bare, consisting only of the Javanese teak furniture and the snazzy looking bar - and the real reason he'd agreed to the apartment, the magnificent view of the Bund and the river.
"I understand completely." Nodding in recognition of that fact, Adam continued, "It might be a trifle premature then to assume but according to the latest news you are in fact Mr Post. What we would have called the Taipan years ago."
"The Taipan, right." Quinton paused for a moment before taking a seat on the sofa, the easy smile on his face fading away at the question. It was a name that carried some significance and the very name, and the thought behind it, had Quinn quaking in his shoes. Five years ago, he'd fled to avoid the question that hung over his future but this time he'd made the decision to return, to deal with the inevitable repercussions of his uncle's death and the very real possibility that he might have to step into his uncle's shoes. His father and his uncle wouldn't be around to take the fall for him this time. For the first time, his vividly green eyes turned serious as he spoke softly, nipping his bottom lip in abstraction. "I don't intend to step into his shoes yet. My cousin Ai Ling handles the reins well enough for now."
Slipping out the notebook he kept in his front pocket, Adam jotted some notes down. "That would be Miss Aileen Post."
"Yes. That would be correct," Quinn repeated in the same tone, his teasing grin surfacing. "God, you sound just like my governess." Seeing the seething glare in the black eyes lightened his mood considerably and drew his thoughts away. "By the way, that's also Ai Ling and Makoto Post. Both of them hold posts directly under my uncle and would presumably be next in line."
Breaking off from his thoughts as he glanced down at his notebook, Adam turned his serious gaze back on Quinn. "Ai Ling, you said?"
"No point in standing on ceremony, Lieutenant." Despite the invitation, the detective remained standing to Quinn's amusement. "And it is Ai Ling Post to the rest of us. All of us in the family have Chinese names."
"And you?"
"Wai Tong."
Running the words in his mind, Adam finally managed a small smile. "Wai Tong. Quinton. Interesting."
"Glad you liked it." It was not often that Quinn wished he wasn't right about everything. The smile really did wonders for an already spectacular face. Dimples peeked for a second at the edge of the detective's smile, making him look even more boyish than he already did and Quinn felt an urge to stick his tongue in the small indent. Ignoring that impulse, he pulled himself out of the seat and gestured to the nearby bar. "Come, Lieutenant, I've forgotten about my hospitality. How about a drink?"
Adam's answer was quick and unequivocal. "No."
"I should have known." Prepared for his refusal, Quinn laughed in disregard even as he took out cups for the pot he already had brewing. "Come, you can't be denying my hospitality, Lieutenant Li. That would be unacceptably rude."
"Not in the middle of a murder investigation." Resolutely, Adam turned away and walked towards the bank of windows that lined the living room. It was amazing what wealth could do. While his own windows overlooked the bare brick wall of a nondescript apartment building in the former Old City, Post had the magnificent view of the Huangpu and the crowded banks along with the new Post Tower on the Pudong, a towering, shimmering spire of frost and silver that dwarfed the other shyscrapers beside it. "Earlier, I believe you mentioned your extensive collection of weaponry during the initial interview."
Thinking that even the hard-assed detective wouldn't object to tea, Quinn measured out the hot tea even as he kept his eye on the detective's attractive profile. There was no denying that the man had a superior ass. "Yes, a pair of twin daggers. I reported the one missing two weeks ago. Guess where I found it."
The detective whipped his gaze around, raising his dark brows in surprise. "You didn't mention this earlier, Mr Post."
Altough he would never admit it, the same thought had been plaguing Quinn's mind since he'd found Maurice Post lying dead in his chair. Since the daggers were unmistakably his, they were obviously meant to point the blame squarely on him and since only those in the family knew the particular significance of the daggers, it had been patently clear that someone in the family had been involved. The week after his uncle's death, he had compiled as much information on the members of his family living in the environs of the city. The reporter hound persona had taken over as he'd dug up every gritty detail of his cousins' lives with the help of his contacts. The very idea that Makoto - or worse Ai Ling - had been involved in Maurice's murder was plain disgusting. No doubt the late Maurice Post had never been the jolly, twinkly-eyed uncle with hidden candy in his pockets but as they'd grown older, Quinn had started to appreciate the stern, serious-minded gentleman who gave him the chance to seek his own dreams. Obviously someone out there hadn't shared the same feelings about Maurice.
"My mistake. At that time, I didn't realize it was the same dagger. I believe I was too busy getting over the surprise of finding my uncle bleeding all over the Aubusson to admire the make of the dagger," Quinn added with a sardonic curl of his lip.
"Point taken." Noting down his comments, the detective turned back and stared at the tea set Quinn had prepared.
Placing the tray on the coffee table, Quinn poured out a cup for the detective and made his offer. "Have a drink first."
"I don't think I should.." Adam had no choice but to refuse. Previously, there had been other suspects who had tried their sorry moves on him but no one had managed to unsettle him as much as Quinton Post, which made him ever so dangerous.
This time, Quinn simply wasn't taking no for an answer and pressed the cup on the detective. "Relax, Lieutenant, it's tea. From one of our first farms in Fujian."
"I've..." As Quinn handed over the dainty cup to him, the detective had no choice but to hold it. Accepting the cup, he was obliged to take a seat opposite the one Quinn had vacated earlier. The faint fragrance of jasmine wafted to his nose as he took in a deep breath.
"Take it. It's only tea. Surely that's acceptable on the job." A sly grin crept over Quinn's handsome face. "Anyway, I don't intend to get you thoroughly drunk this early in our relationship."
Deciding to ignore the innuendo as he had earlier, Adam took a tentative sip. "It smells wonderful."
Pleased with his accomplishment, Quinn poured another cup for himself. "It should, my great-grandfather personally picked out the leaves. Rumour has it he met and romanced my Chinese great-great grandmother at the same time but that didn't stop him from getting the leaves that make one of the costliests tea leaves in the world."
"You seem to know a lot about a company that you claimed to have turned your back on," Adam ventured carefully.
"I dind't turn my back on anything or anyone. Post Industries has always been - and always will be important to me," Quinn said carefully as he watched the teacup balanced in his hands. This was an area that had to be treaded carefully. Before his uncle's death, Maurice had been looking into several deals in the company that involved his cousins and from what he'd said, he didn't seem all that happy. As diplomatically as he could, he replied. "My cousins are doing a creditable job in my place but that doesn't mean I've shirked my duties completely. Though it might not interest you in the least, I am still a major shareholder in the company and although I've been away, I do keep an eye on activities happening back home."
The detective smiled grimly. "You wrong me. Anything that might have a connection to Marcus Post's murder interests me greatly."
"Do I interest you?" Quinn said matter-of-factly as he leaned over to top up Adam's cup.
"What?" The pointed question startled him for a moment, throwing him off balance. "In the process of a murder investigation, yes."
The diplomatic reply to his inappropriate questions only served to get Quinn's goat. Certainly it was far too early to make such announcements but the man's cool reticence only made Quinn ever more aggressive and he leaned forward with a question in his green eyes. "Only in your official capacity, Lieutenant? Or can I call you Adam?"
"It's Lieutenant Li, Mr Post," he reiterated.
Quinn's lips curled up in a grin. "Stubborn. But I've always liked stubborn men."
That certainly hadn't been on Quinton Post's official report but Adam wasn't surprised. Not much was written about Quinton apart from what here was in his official bio. Apart from his spectacular looks and his experience in the field of journalism, there had been no mention of any living spouse or partners in his life. There could be no doubt however of where his sexual interests lay. The slow, appraising look he'd received triggered several alarm bells in his head. Naivete wasn't his strong suit, Adam Li knew that he looked presentable enough to draw some looks but he had never gotten quite the same look from anyone before. Desire, lust and hunger stripped him to the skin, leaving him bare.
The emotion in the green eyes rattled him but Adam refused to let it show. Keeping his hands steady, he slipped out and turned on his communicator. "Li, Lieutenant Adam conducting an interview with Post, Quinton in subject's residence. I believe you already understand your rights and obligations regarding this interview."
"Yes." It was interesting watching the detective at work and it made Quinn even more determined to rattle him. Taking a sip from his cup, he murmured lazily. "Sexy voice, Lieutenant. Ever thought of going on-screen?"
"I believe you had an appointment with the deceased on the night of his death. Where were you on that night?"
"Is this the interview part? I thought we did this before." Encountering the stern, uncompromising gaze, Quinn laughed and finally gave in. "Well, if you insist, Lieutenant. I believe I was enjoying a book in my bed actually. Feeling alone and cold and wishing for some company."
Ignoring that bit of whimsy, Adam continued dispassionately. "What time was that?"
"Between 7 to 8, I believe. I believe I had some fried noodles for dinner. Quite delicious actually."
"Don't be snide, Mr Post. We could always continue the conversation in Central."
"A threat?" The implication only made Quinn's smile grow even wider. There was no doubt in his mind that the detective was quite capable of carrying out such a threat but the hassle would be considerable and certainly not worth his time. Still the thought pleased him for some perverse reason and he wondered what odd streak in his personality had him going for such a man. "You really do interest me greatly. Tell me Lieutenant, what would you do if I were to lean over and kiss you?"
"What?"
If he'd wanted to catch the cop unawares, Quinn had certainly achieved his goal. The cop looked like he'd been whacked with a sledgehammer right across his head. "It's a simple enough question. What would you do if I were to kiss you?"
Physically - and mentally, Adam Li took a step back from the question. "Don't even think about it."
It tickled Quinn to see the dangerous looking man leaning back on his seat to avoid him. The sheer size and power of his firm, muscular arms were evident, even beneath the heavy jacket and it was obvious from his file that the man could wipe the floor with him. And yet the detective was palpably afraid. The thought of his excellent arms - and the rest of the delectable package had Quinn's voice sliding down a pitch as he murmured, "You're too late, Adam. Already done it - and thinking of doing even more."
A streak of colour shaded the edges of the detective's cheekbones but he remained in control. "You were alone, all that time. Did you speak with anyone, see anyone during that time?"
Wondering how far he could push the detective, Quinn taunted him. "Avoiding the question, Adam."
"Please just answer the question, Mr Post."
Little darts of anger had surfaced in the depths of those black eyes and Quinn could only smile. "Ah, smart boy. You do know that begging in that sexy baritone of yours will get you everywhere with me."
"Just answer the question." A touch of impatience had crept into that dispassionate voice.
"Masterful. I like that too." Quinn knew he sounded like a badly produced gay porn vid but he found that he enjoyed needling the man. Long ago deciding that there was a streak of perversion in his personality that made him lust after the most difficult men, Quinn realized that this was the most challenging chase yet.
"I should remind you, Mr Post, that you are on record here."
"Good."
Flipping off the recorder, the detective glowered, his damned sexy mouth settling in something between a scowl and a pout. A moment passed as their gazes met and there was a second when Quinn almost felt as if the detective would reach over to throttle him but though he braced himself for the anticipated attack, the moment fizzled out and nothing happened. Hoping and wishing for those great big arms to reach over and grab him, Quinn was to be disappointed as the detective quickly pulled himself out of the chair and started pacing around the living room.
Annoyed with his weakness, Adam took a few steps towards the windows and stood staring at the view with his back to the suspect. "Did you see anyone during that time?"
The earlier moment had passed and Quinn wondered what had gone through the detective's mind. Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Quinn let out a sigh. "Alright, you win. I was all alone as I said before. Read the Joy of Gay Sex and thought of putting it into practise. Until about half past 8 when I started getting dressed to meet my uncle."
Glancing over his shoulder, he spoke softly. "Baiting me will get you nowhere, Mr Post."
The smile on Quinn's face never dimmed. "But it is so much fun. And I am not only baiting you, I am quite interested in you, Li Xian Long."
The mention of his full name had the man slightly taken aback as he came to the realization that he had probably been investigated himself. Wondering what else had been uncovered about his past, Adam closed his eyes, searching for the words. "Even if I were interested, I don't socialize with suspects, Mr Post. You are a major shareholder in Post Industries - with a possibility of earning even a bigger share of the pie with your uncle's death. You have just told me that you own a pearl dagger much like the one used on your uncle. You don't have much of an alibi on the night of his death."
Standing himself, Quinn walked over to where the detective stood, staring into the darkness. The other man's handsome, sculpted profile was brought into relief by the moonlight, features gilded in silver, and all Quinn could think of was whether Adam Li would look as good lying naked in his new bed. Hard enough to talk about murder when all he wanted to do was kiss the cop, Quinn thought with a smile. "Look, Lieutenant, do I strike you as a fool? If I really was planning to murder someone, it would have been very careless of me not to provide myself with an alibi, don't you think?"
Sliding his glance over, Adam aimed a cool, black-eyed glare. "Or terribly arrogant."
It was a good point and Quinn smiled. "You know me so well. I believe we should get engaged. Are you free this Saturday?"
"Murder's not a laughing matter, Mr Post."
"No, it isn't," he said in complete agreement. Since Quinn had been involved in his own share of grisly murders in New York, he understood completely. Crime and punishment might be the detective's business but it didn't mean Quinn was a patent amateur. Nosing about for clues had always been his specialty and that had certainly served him well during his tenure on Channel 88's premiere news team. "I know I didn't do it but you obviously have some doubts on that. So why aren't you carting me off to the cage right now?"
"Your motive for one," Adam admitted quietly.
"I believe some would say that achieving the goal of Tai Pan would be motive enough."
"Yes, it would." Placing his open palm on the glass, Adam stared out and gave a slow nod of understanding. "For some but not you. A man who refused to helm the company and walked away from all that wouldn't return for that goal when he could have had it all on a silver platter five years ago."
"Who knows, you might have gotten me all wrong." Leaning with one elbow braced on the windows, Quinn took in the view in front of him. Sure, he was paying a bundle to have the gorgeous view but it certainly couldn't compare with the view of the clean-cut lieutenant standing at his windows. "Dealing with the cutthroats of the media world, I could have changed my mind."
"You could." Adam tapped his fingers rhythmically on the glass. "Which is why you are still on the list of suspects."
"Touche." Quinn laughed.
"You are making this difficult." Running his hand up his face, Adam nudged his glasses up and pinched the skin above his nose. "Cooperate with me, Mr Post."
"Call me Quinn."
"Will you cooperate if I do so?" he challenged me with a glimmer of a smile.
It occurred to me the reason why the man kept his lips tightly zipped. That sexy smile, if used too often, would be lethal. "That depends."
Turning to aim a cool glance at the other man, Adam remained silent for a moment. From the banked fire in those black eyes, Quinn wondered whether the brain of the cop would take over and he'd be kicking his heels in Central for the night.
There was almost a moment of relief when the detective finally gave in and sighed. "Fine, if that's the way you want it. Quinn."