Page 79 of The Big Fix

“You saved me when I was ten. Do you remember?”

Did I remember? “You’re kidding, right?”

“We’ve never talked about why you had to.” He moved a bit, pressed in tighter, his hand sliding down my abdomen. “We’ve talked about you saving me. Tell me the story from the beginning.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Okay,” I said, and took a breath. “It starts with your father.”

“Welcome to Hong Kong,” Ronan Moss greeted me, the familiar Irish accent warm and friendly. He gave me a big grin and held out his hand, which I snatched up in a firm clasp. “Come in, Jared, come in.”

Ronan and Sara lived in the heart of the Quarry Bay district, residing in a dense and stacked flat among the city’s conglomeration of residential high-rise complexes. I followed Ronan through the long hallway, past a dining room and kitchen area, and into a large living room with bay windows overlooking Hong Kong Island and Victoria Harbor.

“Owen?” Ronan said, and I realized there was a little boy there, all of ten, staring up at me. “Do you remember Jared?”

Owen had offered me an enthusiastic handshake and then bolted from the room, more interested in whatever video game he was playing than his parents’ friend.

“We see you with far less regularity these days than we’d like, Jared.” Sara Moss came into the room and embraced me tightly.

“I serve a cruel master,” I said jokingly.

“Oh, I know,” she agreed, arching an eyebrow. “Both you and Ronan. Now tell me, how long do we have you?”

“Couple of days. The delegation I’m covering leaves day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll take it,” she said, beaming. “Now sit down. Dinner is nearly ready. But drinks first. I opened a bottle of ouzo for the occasion.”

The woman was bewitchingly beautiful, I’d always thought so. As she left the room, I turned to Ronan. “How did you get her again?”

“I’m funny,” he reminded me indignantly. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Once Sara was back with the bottle, glasses, and a plate of olives and feta, she took a seat. “Always drink it with food,” she directed, shooting her husband a look.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t take shots of ouzo,” she said, shaking her head in judgment.

“One time,” he protested.

Soon, we were laughing and reminiscing about ancient history, which carried over into dinner. I could see the dismay in Sara’s face when the topic shifted to work.

“You men. How is one to enjoy a meal if one is doing business at the same time?” To me, she said, “This is why you’re still single, Jared. You need to slow down to be snared.”

“My job only allows me time for false starts and cautious experimentation, I’m afraid,” I teased her.

After dinner, before dessert and coffee, I followed Ronan into his office while Sara put Owen to bed. Ronan closed the door, which was odd.

“Are you all right?” I asked him, worried. Suddenly, he didn’t look like himself.

He moved around his desk and unlocked a drawer. “I’ve put myself in the line of fire here, Jared,” he confessed, glancing up at me and then back down at what he was looking for. “I’ve gotten myself involved with the triads.”

“How involved?” I rasped, terrified over what he would say.

“Heavily.”

“Tell me more,” I barked at him. “Say more.”