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I told you that was my only reason for being here?” He tilted his head and watched her, his face a mask of light and shadow that hid all expression. His tone warned her she’d get no other explanation.
    â€œNo. I’d say you’re here on some business of your own. My coming here is a coincidence. But you don’t have to feel it’s necessary to watch over me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Rachel regretted the petulant tone of her words the moment they left her mouth. It wasn’t this man’s fault that her brothers still treated her as if she were some fragile and helpless woman-child.
    â€œThis part of Thailand is no place for a woman traveling alone.” Tiger Jackson’s voice was as hard as the stone beneath her feet.
    â€œI’m not alone,” she pointed out.
    â€œDamn near as good as alone.”
    Irrationally, Rachel felt herself compelled to defendHarrison Bartley. “How was Bart to know the map was inaccurate?”
    â€œHe should have had enough sense to stay on the main road. Even someone with as low a security clearance level as Bartley’s must know that Khen Sa is active in the region.”
    â€œKhen Sa. The warlord?” And Opium King, if what Simon told her was correct. Somehow she didn’t want to bring up the subject of opium smuggling with Tiger Jackson. That was probably his real reason for being here, far from any civilization, far from any authority. It was hardly the prudent thing to do; still, somehow it didn’t seem out of place at all to be carrying on a conversation about warlords, with a mercenary, in a setting such as this one. “Simon briefed me on Khen Sa before I left the States,” she said carefully.
    â€œSimon is your brother who works for the Census Bureau?”
    â€œYes.” Rachel looked at him sharply in the moonlight. He was looking out at the jungle, his rough-angled profile hidden in shadow, his voice neutral, giving nothing of his thoughts, of himself, away.
    â€œHe’s very well-informed. The Census Bureau usually doesn’t have a lot of interest in Southeast Asian politics.”
    â€œKhen Sa is very well-known in Washington. He controls nearly all of the opium trade in the Golden Triangle. Am I correct?”
    Tiger Jackson swiveled his head to face her directly. His voice was cold. “So I’ve been told.”
    â€œI think that’s sufficient cause to make his movementsof interest even to an employee of the Census Bureau, if his only sister is traveling in the region.”
    â€œIt would be reason enough for my sister to stay at home.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here, Mr. Jackson?” she asked, not bothering to point out that she wasn’t his sister. She didn’t seem able to bring herself to call him Tiger, although standing in the moonlight, it was easy enough to imagine him as some large, predatory jungle cat.
    â€œI’m here on business, as you already guessed.” He answered easily, but his expression was still guarded. It probably always would be.
    â€œWhat kind of business?” Rachel wondered if she were losing her mind or if the moonlight were playing tricks on her reason. She shouldn’t be playing cat-and-mouse word games with him. “Are you also a buyer of teak?”
    â€œYes, I am.” He still stood with one leg raised on the stone ledge. He looked relaxed; his hands and arms below the rolled-back cuffs of his khaki shirt were still. The image of calm was deceptive. Below the surface Rachel sensed a coiled tenseness, danger and aggression, power, held in tight restraint. “Billy Todd is my partner. He’s been in Bangkok the last few days. He saw you in a restaurant.”
    â€œThe Lemongrass?”
    He hesitated, then nodded. “A friend pointed you out to Billy.”
    â€œThen it is only a coincidence that Billy Todd followed us down that road?”
    â€œA very unfortunate