Choke Point by Jay MacLarty Page A

thirties.
    “I’ll get you for that, Leonidovich.”
    “You should be so lucky.” He said it without thinking—some knee-jerk, competitive reaction to the thought of her and Atherton leaving the hospital together—and immediately tried to turn it into a joke. “Because contrary to what you might think, Rynerson —” He punched the name, forcing her to look up. “I’m better than okay. Much better.”
    “What?” She squinted at him, a bewildered frown creasing her forehead. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “You just told yon gatekeeper I was ‘okay.’ A measure of mediocrity to which I take great umbrage.”
    “ Aaah, the fragile ego of the hairy beast.” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “And I thought you were different, Leonidovich.”
    He held up the two grande-sized containers. “Play nice, Rynerson, I come bearing gifts.”
    She grinned, placed her hands on her knees, and levered herself to her feet. “You are my god, Simon Leonidovich. I bow to your wisdom and benevolence.”
    “That’s all I ask, a modicum of devotion and worship.”
    She stretched, a graceful cat waking up after a long nap, then snatched away one of the mochas. “What happened? Someone was supposed to wake me at six.”
    “I asserted my new authority and countermanded the order.” Though she was wearing more than most women did at the beach, it was difficult not to take a little sightseeing tour. “I knew that flight was going to catch up with you sooner or later.”
    “Apparently it did.” She sipped at the coffee, checking the temperature, then with a robust slurp inhaled an inch off the top. “What about you? Get any sleep?”
    “Some.” If a twenty-minute catnap on the ride between the hospital and hotel qualified as sleep. “I’m okay.”
    She fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, no, sir, you’re so much better than okay. ”
    Smartass. “That was a test. I was just checking to see if you were paying attention.”
    Her expression suddenly mutated from teasing to troubled, as if the caffeine had finally reached her brain receptors. “What about my father? Any change?”
    He shook his head.
    “Mother?”
    “Still there. I tried to get her to leave, but…well, you know Billie.”
    She turned and started toward the bathroom. “I need to get over there.”
    “Not this morning. We have a meeting with Li Quan at eleven o’clock.”
    She spun around, her silk camisole twirling up and exposing her flat stomach. “You can do that without me.”
    “I could, but I won’t. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Mr. Li Quan is not going to appreciate some idiot who doesn’t know a damn thing about the resort business looking over his shoulder. You’re a Rynerson, he’s got no choice but to accept your presence.”
    “But—”
    “No buts,” he interrupted. “We have to do this as a team.”
    “But what about mother? She’s got to sleep sometime. She can’t just—”
    “ Can’t is not a word you’ll find in the Billie Rynerson dictionary. She won’t leave, whether you’re there or not, and your father doesn’t know the difference. The only way you can help him, is to help me.”
    She hesitated, as if searching her brain for an argument, then apparently gave up the quest and agreed. “You’re right.” She shook her head, the expression in her eyes remote and reflective. “I shouldn’t have been so tough on her last night.”
    “Trust me, she understands.”
    “Not likely.”
    “No, really, we talked most of the night. She gets it. You’re worried about your father. She’s worried about her husband. It’s as simple as that.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, simple as that.”
    “Exactly,” though it was obvious they both knew better.
    “She didn’t sleep at all?”
    “No, but I had an orderly put a cot in the observation room. She promised to use it.”
    “Fat chance.” She took a deep breath and let it go, a sigh of resignation. “What did you think of