The Marriage Paradox: Unlikely Spies, #2

By Noelle Greene

Opposites. Attract. Danger.
 

He nearly ruined her. A spontaneous fling with a con man posing as a sexy surfer has left Olivia's career as an American legal attache' in shambles.

When a shared mission forces a marriage of convenience to the cynical Aussie who tricked her, she is plunged into espionage, intrigue and passion.

But Olivia is soon captivated by this fiercely loyal man. In turn, she teaches him the power of intimacy and trust.

Now they're caught between a brutal authoritarian regime and a crooked casino tycoon. One wrong move could rip them apart.

If you like steamy page-turners with surprise twists, you'll love this standalone romantic thriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Noelle Greene
• Release date: Aug 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386253174

Noelle Greene

Noelle Greene lives in Northern California with her husband. She grew up in Memphis, Tennessee and Milwaukee, Wisconsin, studied advertising at San Jose State University and has lived up and down the West Coast, including Washington State and Southern California. Her background includes work in high-tech marketing communications and consulting, running a school library and raising two sons. She enjoys putting her own twist on popular romantic themes and tropes to create an emotionally satisfying read. Metaphysical, magical and mysterious topics always intrigue and inspire.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The first time he dreamed about his own death, Markus didn’t take much notice. The next few times, he laughed it off. After all, his mum had raised him on Thai ghost stories and grisly folk tales. Superstition had been baked in from the start.

Ignoring a death premonition wasn’t difficult when the dream came only a few times a year. Lately, however, he’d had the dream more and more often. He wasn’t afraid. Death came for everyone.

He even felt a certain fondness for the dream, seeing as how it starred his own personal angel.

Which was why, when he’d first laid eyes on Olivia Munro, he’d had a bit of a jolt. She’d reminded him of his angel. Aware of how crazy that was, he had tried to forget her.

Now, here she was, coming back into his life only a week later, striding up the Wisdom Path like a determined Girl Guide.

Crikey, he said. At his mate’s questioning look, he added, I know that woman. But she doesn’t know me. It must be you she’s here for.

Olivia stopped in her tracks and tilted her head to scan the hillside above her. She glanced at his friend Sun, then directly at Markus. No way would she recognize him but he couldn’t count on that once she got closer.

She lowered her head and powered her way toward the crest.

Are you saying she doesn’t know you in this disguise? Sun asked, amused. Or at all?

Both, Markus said.

This couldn’t be a fluke. Even if she had come to Lantau Island for an innocent Sunday outing, most visitors didn’t venture beyond the monastery and the giant Big Buddha. Not once had she paused to take in the Hong Kong skyline. Nor did she glance at the ancient carved columns flanking the path.

His first meeting with her hadn’t been a coincidence either. Problem was, this time the meeting wasn’t his idea.

He remembered now how she’d looked when he’d left her last weekend: rosy, sated, and fast asleep, with one smooth hip and thigh exposed by a slippery sheet. Leaving her bed had taken every ounce of his discipline. He’d told himself his reluctance had more to do with four months of celibacy than anything else. The drowsy golden afternoon he’d spent flirting, seducing and then making love to her had been his first time with a woman since Africa.

He’d never met anyone quite like Olivia. A woman who made love with unapologetic lust and who never once referred to the future was nothing less than a fantasy come true. She’d been as enthusiastic and uninhibited a partner as a man could hope for. In other circumstances, in another life, he would have liked to see her again. He wasn’t proud of deceiving her. The fact that he’d had an excellent time didn’t ease his conscience.

Markus was about to move out of sight when he noticed two men hiking some distance behind her. Their white shirtsleeves stood out against the green landscape and they moved in nervy fits and starts, slowing when Olivia stopped to tighten her shoelace, and accelerating when she picked up the pace.

When she reached a switchback on the trail and turned in their direction, the two men froze, then dove behind a tree.

Markus snickered.

What is it? Abbot Sun asked.

Get a load of those amateurs.

Olivia kept on, seemingly oblivious to the men who tailed her with all the stealth of stampeding elephants. Their stiff clothing and dress shoes gave them away as agents or police, almost certainly from the mainland.

They could be Public Security Bureau, Markus said, but neither of them matches the description you gave me.

No, Sun said. I’ve never seen those two before. Last night there was only the one man snooping around the monastery. He was bigger and he seemed more…dangerous.

Hold it, Markus said. He had spotted another hiker, well behind the two inept agents. Though not as obviously out of place as the others, he too wasn’t your average tourist or local. Even from here, Markus sensed the third man’s single-minded attention on Olivia. He was bigger than the first two agents.

Is that the bloke you saw last night? Markus asked.

I can’t tell, Sun said. If I could see him up close…

She’ll be up here in a minute or two. Take her back down the long way. I’ll follow her entourage. I don’t know what’s going on but it’s safe to assume all three of those wankers are here for more than a Sunday walkabout.

His old friend Sun merely raised a relaxed eyebrow when Markus hid behind a tree. They’d already agreed on keeping a low profile. As the abbot, Sun would be in deep shit if the mainland government even suspected he’d asked Markus to do counter-surveillance of the suspicious character seen prowling the Buddhist monastery grounds, particularly if the prowler turned out to be a state security agent.

Olivia crested the hill. Her white blond hair was pinned to the top of her head. With an expert eye, Markus noted she wore no makeup other than haphazardly applied tinted sunscreen. She didn’t need makeup to be striking, not with her fair skin, dark eyebrows, and blue eyes.

Then there was her figure. His memory had not exaggerated her curves. Her damp t-shirt clung to generous breasts. Even perspiring and puffing, she was almost as tempting now as she had been naked.

She approached Sun. Excuse me, are you the abbot?

Markus watched his friend nod. As was his custom, Sun kept his hands together across his saffron robes and waited in that Zen-like manner. It was no affectation. Sun really was as crazy-calm as he appeared.

To her credit, Olivia wasn’t intimidated. Most Westerners either babbled or were tongue-tied in the presence of a bona fide Buddhist monk. She put her hands together and gave a slight bow.

I’m Olivia Munro. The lady at the office said I’d find you up here. I was hoping for a few minutes of your time. I believe you know my father, Gerald Munro? You’ve probably heard he was arrested and detained a few months ago. We haven’t seen or heard from him since. We’re at our wit’s end.

Yes, I was sorry to hear that, Sun said. How can I help?

Yesterday I received a letter, supposedly from him. She dug into her backpack and produced a thin blue envelope.

Supposedly?

She removed the letter and held it so that the abbot could see. Someone opened this envelope and resealed it before I got it. The handwriting is not his and the signature isn’t even close.

She read aloud. "Go see my friend Abbot Sun at Po Lin Monastery. He will give you Spiritual Guidance. She fanned herself with the letter distractedly. With all due respect, sir, I’m not looking for spiritual guidance. My sister and I are very worried about our father. We recently got word that he’s in poor health. I know this is a long shot but I hoped you might know something. Anything at all."

From his hiding place, Markus observed her. He didn’t believe the song and dance about a mysterious letter. Though he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, he didn’t trust her. Then again, he didn’t trust anyone.

Believe it or not, Olivia said with a nervous laugh, the authorities have characterized my dad as a threat to China’s national security. She waited a beat for Sun to react. When he didn’t, she kept talking. I transferred to Hong Kong hoping to use my contacts to obtain his release. Unfortunately, I’ve made very little progress in getting permission to travel to the mainland.

Markus was still not buying the sob story. For one, she wasn’t a devoted daughter. According to his sources, she hadn’t seen her father in more than a decade. Second, though the famous peace activist had indeed been detained, his arrest had been avoidable. Unlike his own uncle’s disappearance, her father’s arrest had been predictable.

Sun’s phone rang and Markus grinned at Olivia’s start of surprise—the ringtone was Buddhist chimes.

While the abbot took the call, she looked around. Her gaze darted right to where he stood behind a large pine tree. Had she seen a wayward flap of robe? He yanked the fabric tight around him.

Perfect. That’s what he got for being overconfident. His disguise du jour won the prize for dumbest camouflage ever. Here he was, hiding in a forest wearing orange. Though he’d laughed at the clumsy agents tailing her, he’d been equally sloppy.

Reminded of the agents, he wondered what hole they’d scurried into. Until Sun got this woman out of here, he couldn’t go after them.

Sun finished his call. Olivia pointed at the pine tree.

Is there someone back there? she asked, peering into the shadows.

Ah, the abbot replied, that is Venerable Mark. He is practicing noble silence.

Olivia glanced at the abbot. I thought I saw him talking to you.

He regarded her serenely. That is why he needs practice.

When she’d seen the two monks on the hill, orange robes billowing around them and shiny pates reflecting the sun, she’d assumed they were old men. In fact, as she drew closer she realized they were both young, in their thirties. The short, slight abbot behaved as expected, so tranquil he was a cliché. The tall monk beside him, not so much. He exuded energy and power, even standing still.

As she had gotten closer, she would have sworn the tall one checked her out. Before he’d vanished, his full lips had quirked when he looked down at her, as if he knew a secret. Then, to top it off, he’d stared at her boobs.

Ha. Some monk. Did those orange robes give him a get out of jail free card? Even more disturbing, he’d reminded her of the New Zealander she’d met a week ago. Met being a euphemism for throwing herself at the man on scandalously short acquaintance.

If she was seeing Ian in every tall, well-built male, even a bald monk, she had it bad. Recalling her behavior with him still made her cringe. That afternoon of bone-melting lust and lovemaking had been something she never would have indulged in at home. She wasn’t in the habit of throwing caution to the wind for a slightly dim bulb with a lazy smile, even if he did have the body of a Greek god.

Ian had worn his hair in dreadlocks, for heaven’s sake. White guys with dreadlocks were ridiculous. She still thought so. But that hadn’t stopped her from taking him home and ravishing him. The word fit, although of course they’d ravished each other. And once she had seen the entire length of that glorious lean body and slid her hands over smooth skin the color of Manuka honey, she decided he wasn’t all that white.

So, he got a pass on the dreadlocks. The moment he put his clever tongue on her, or maybe she’d put her mouth on him first—she forgot all about his silly hair and let herself off a tight leash for the first time in a long time. Last Sunday had been her first day off since she’d arrived in Hong Kong a month ago. In the months prior to that, she’d worked her head off back in D.C., all of which might explain what she’d done to, for, and with the New Zealander who’d literally charmed her pants off.

He had been so much fun. Then they’d fallen asleep and when she’d woken just after sunset, he’d been gone. That part had been a little sad because he hadn’t said goodbye. He’d mentioned earlier that he’d be flying to Bali in the morning. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. Which was probably just as well.

Why don’t we talk on the way, the abbot said, directing her to a different trail than the one she’d come up on. This is the most scenic route.

She watched her footing as she descended. The abbot trudged behind her in silence. She wondered about the etiquette in this situation. Was a monk even supposed to be alone with a woman? Thank goodness she’d remembered to dress modestly, something of a sacrifice in this heat.

I met your father at a peace conference last year, the abbot said. He is a great man.

She nodded. She had heard that her whole life and long since learned that no one wanted to hear the more complicated truth.

Halfway down, the abbot stopped, as if struck by a memory. Months ago, after we met, he sent me a book. I’m sure I still have it in my library. I must confess that I didn’t read it. Forgive me, but it wasn’t a very good book.

Olivia didn’t have high hopes but she had little else to go on.

Back at the monastery, the abbot led the way to his library. He retrieved the book and handed it to her.

She examined the yellowed and mildewed paperback. Though written in Chinese, the book’s cover showed its title in English: Spiritual Guidance.

"This is what that letter meant about giving me spiritual guidance?"

Olivia returned to the public area to find the women’s bathroom. She was relieved to see a Western toilet in one of the stalls. If she ever got that visa to get into the mainland, she’d have to get used to squatting over a hole in the floor. Ugh. Not something she looked forward to.

As she washed up, a raised voice outside caught her attention. A man spoke sharply in Cantonese. Since she didn’t know more than a few basic phrases, she caught only the threat in the man’s voice.

While she dried her hands, someone else responded indistinctly. Then came a loud thump and the whole building shook. After another rapid exchange, she heard footsteps, like several people running away.

She emerged cautiously. No one remained.

She had already joined the queue for the bus back to the ferry terminal when she realized she had forgotten to get the abbot’s contact info.

Markus stuffed the orange robe and latex cap in a bush.

Now he would blend in as a Western tourist, sloppy cargo shorts, t-shirt, and all. He did regret the lack of decent trainers. If he had to kick someone’s butt, these thongs would be useless.

He rubbed at the spirit gum adhesive on his forehead as he ran down the path. His feet throbbed with every pounding step, reminding him why he didn’t run without padded socks and footwear.

It had been four months now and he still had not healed completely. Aware that he’d been lucky to survive, he ignored the pain and forced his thoughts back to his search.

Just over the next ridge, a flash of white caught his eye. He sprinted after the two agents with relative ease: his daily runs in the hills behind his house had kept him, if not free of pain, reasonably fit.

Even so, he didn’t catch up and saw no sign of the third bloke at all. By the time he reached the monastery, they had blended into the groups of tourists swarming up and down the steps of the main attraction, the huge bronze Buddha.

Markus ran up the steps and down again without luck. He circled the gardens and scouted out the temples.

Adrenaline pumped through him when he spotted two skinny hoons loitering near the public toilets. Talk about sore thumbs. No one in Hong Kong would be caught dead in those white dress shirts and stiff, creased trousers. They had to be either plainclothes policemen or Public Security agents.

He wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy.

Why were you following the woman on the trail? he demanded. What are you after? When he got only a blank stare, he shoved the closest one against a wall.

The kid held his hands up in wary puzzlement. Only then did Markus realize he’d asked the questions in Cantonese. He asked again using his lousy Mandarin.

The kid replied in a rapid, unintelligible dialect. When the kid repeated himself slowly, Markus understood.

We’re just tourists, the kid said. We’ve done nothing.

The core truth in that lie penetrated Markus’s adrenaline-fogged brain and he became aware of a cluster of gaping onlookers. He reluctantly loosened his hold. This was exactly what Sun didn’t need, a public spectacle.

He let the two kids go and watched them until they reached the parking lot.

When he slipped into the side door of Sun’s quarters, a raised voice indicated that the abbot still had a visitor. But not Olivia. This was a hostile male voice.

Angry shouting in this peaceful sanctum was akin to a bomb going off. Markus hovered in the hallway, fighting his instinct to step in. He’d already ditched his monk’s disguise. If he intervened now, he’d put both Sun and himself at risk. He knew for a fact his mate wasn’t helpless but the Buddhist monk would never resort to violence. It wouldn’t even occur to him.

The visitor continued what sounded like a harsh interrogation, demanding something from the abbot. Markus didn’t understand their rapid exchange but did catch one word. Guizi. Slang for foreigner.

Sun’s response was measured and even. The other man questioned him in an aggressive tone.

Markus flexed his hands. Whoever this dickhead was, he needed to be schooled to show some respect. He’d love to set him straight. If he hadn’t promised Sun a low-key presence, he’d be in there already.

When the asshole lowered his voice and spoke slower, Markus understood every deliberate, menacing word.

What did you give her? the man demanded.

Sun answered readily. A book.

What book?

Spiritual Guidance, Sun said in English, his dry tone and implication wasted on his questioner.

Why?

She asked.

An ominous hush followed. The silence stretched out until it was broken by an oof and a loud thud. Markus charged in to find Sun sprawled on the floor with his nose streaming blood. The intruder loomed over the fallen monk with an ugly expression, as if prepared to punch Sun in the face a second time.

Markus didn’t hesitate. He used his favorite rugby tackle and slammed into the guy’s mid-section. Momentum carried them into a wall. He made sure the intruder got the brunt of the impact and knocked his head against the wall a few times for good measure.

The thug must have had a hard head because he came back spitting. His hands found Markus’s throat and squeezed. Markus brought his knee up hard, and when the other guy’s grip loosened, he pivoted to take him down. They grappled and rolled around on the blood-spattered tile.

The goon managed to deliver an effective upper cut. Markus’s head snapped back. While the room spun around him, he heard Sun’s grunt of effort.

Blinking, Markus looked up to see his friend swing a massive dictionary at his attacker. He whacked him just above the ear with enough of a wallop to knock the thug into a sideways topple. The reprieve bought Markus a moment to clear his head. He rolled to his side and braced his hands to get up.

Still slumped, the big guy groaned, faking, as it turned out because when Markus rose on one knee and turned to check on Sun, the bastard reared up to head-butt him.

Markus’s reflexes saved him. But in the process of dodging the blow, he slipped in a pool of blood and ended up on his ass. When the attacker got into a crouch, about to lunge at Markus, Sun unwisely stepped between them.

Intent on saving the abbot from another hammering, Markus didn’t see her until it was too late. The next thing he knew, Olivia had jumped into the fray.

Chapter 2

Olivia delivered a powerful kick to the crouching goon’s head and unwittingly hit the same spot the abbot had smacked with the dictionary. He swayed like a drunken sailor.

She immediately hopped up and down, favoring her right foot. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Somehow the man remained upright even as the blood drained from his face. He glared at her with the disbelief of a man who’d never been bested by a woman.

Markus saw the man’s intent and scrambled forward.

"Get out of the