Chapter 18

 

"So, this is my new son-in-law."

Zhi-Gang bolted upright in bed. Beneath him Anna gasped as well, the sound ending on a shortened squeal of alarm.

Where were his knives?

He blinked even as he kicked a leg out of bed. Then he froze, his vision clearing into a fuzzy and unfortunate tableau. It was morning. He and Anna were naked. And standing around the bed were, in order, a large Chinese man holding both of Zhi-Gang's deer-horn knives, a middle-aged white man with a long salt-and-pepper moustache, and a wiry Chinese man holding a pistol in lax hands. How had he not heard them enter? And where were his glasses?

Zhi-Gang sized up the nearest man, who smiled and taunted him with his own knives. The bastard was pretending not to know how to hold or manage the blades, but his fingers betrayed him. Though his grip was off center, his fingertips were settled in just the right way to quickly readjust. Zhi-Gang suppressed a grimace of frustration. The man knew how to wield the knives and would not be disarmed easily.

"So, what number wife are you, Anna?" the white man drawled. "Six? Seven?"

In his peripheral vision, he saw Anna lift her chin. "I am his only woman," she said. Zhi-Gang winced. That wasn't exactly true, but he didn't have time to explain. Meanwhile, her adopted father—Samuel—barked a mocking laugh.

"I doubt that, daughter. I most sincerely doubt that."

Zhi-Gang pushed up, ignoring his nakedness. Though he was tall for a Chinese, he only matched the white man's height, and he was clearly shorter than the man with his knives. "You will leave our bedchamber," he said with the arrogance he'd learned from the Emperor himself. Then he grabbed a corner of the blanket and threw it over Anna. She wrapped it tightly around her torso, covering herself but leaving her arms free.

Odd, how the sight warmed him. When other women might be screaming in hysterics, his wife did not act the fool. She was already shifting her legs beneath her, readying herself to fight. Except, there would be no fight. Zhi-Gang stepped forward to eye the white man. He was now close enough to focus. Now he could see signs of age: wrinkles around the mouth, a slight stoop to the shoulders. That was something.

"You will wait outside while we dress," Zhi-Gang ordered. "Call for tea and dumplings."

Samuel leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms over his massive chest. "I assure you, my daughter is well used to men in her bedchamber."

"That's not true!" Anna cried, though her cheeks flushed with shame.

Zhi-Gang waved his hand in dismissal. "I care not for the past," he said. "What concerns me is the present. And the future." His voice dropped to a lower register. "Leave now, or I will take my business elsewhere despite my wife's urging."

Samuel's lips curved in a sneer. "Or I could kill you for killing Halfy."

"Halfy was—," Anna began, but Zhi-Gang cut her off.

"The idiot touched my wife," he said, real fury darkening his tone. "And if you cared for his life, I would already be dead." He folded his arms, echoing Samuel's posture. "Leave now or never see your daughter—and my business—again."

Samuel's eyes darted around before finally coming to rest on Anna's face. "This is not new business. I already control Jiangsu province."

"Bai is dead!" Anna snapped. "Killed because of gambling debts." She jerked her head at Zhi-Gang. "He is the new governor. You must negotiate a new deal with him."

Samuel took an angry step forward. "You dare challenge me? After disappearing with an entire shipment?"

Anna swallowed and nodded, clearly anxious. "I had to run. The Enforcer was coming."

Samuel cursed and spit onto the floor.

"But I would never return to you empty handed," she continued. "You know that." Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "I know that."

Samuel pursed his lips. "A husband with a new province. Hmph. We shall see." His gaze flicked back to Zhi-Gang. "I'll be in the office. Don't make me wait." Then, with a clenching of his thick jaw, he turned and walked out. His men followed, the one with the knives leaving last.

Zhi-Gang waited until the door shut behind them before turning to his wife. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, already reaching for her clothing. "You?"

"I don't know how I didn't hear them." He said the words, but he did know. Last night's experience had been so overwhelming, so exhausting, he had lost all sense of the world. All that seemed real to him was her. Even now, with the threat of the men gone from their room, his eyes traveled to her body as she pulled on her skirt. His gaze followed the curve of her hip and the bounce of her breasts while his memory recalled her scent, her taste, her joy.

Their joy.

Their love.

He sat down on the bed, covering his shock by pulling on his trousers. Had he truly fallen in love with a white woman? An opium runner and the adopted daughter of one of the worst of her kind? It was insane. And yet, was it a surprise?

"Are you all right?" Anna asked, her voice slipping into his thoughts as easily as every other aspect of her had infiltrated his body and mind.

He nodded, pulling on his boots without comment. He had to focus on the situation at hand. He was the Emperor's Enforcer, which needed his attention. Both their lives depended on it.

And yet, his mind was still soft with the memories of last night. Never had he thought he would live a Chinese love story, one of doomed lovers and tragic death. He had worked hard, his whole family had sacrificed everything—including his sister—so that he would gain the status and power he now enjoyed. He had his choice of brides. Why ever would he pick a white drug-runner?

He wrapped his tunic about him, leaving it just tight enough to keep him warm but loose enough to allow him to fight. He could not allow Samuel to continue to ply his hideous trade. He would do better to establish an agreement with Samuel, then return later with a battalion of men. That would be safer for him. Safer for Anna. But would he get a better opportunity?

"Almost done," she said as she offered him his glasses.

He frowned as he looked at her. She was fully dressed. Even her hair was pinned up out of her way. At his confused expression, she smiled and continued. "You are almost done with me," she said softly. "We need only finish with this, then all will be over. We can both move on."

She meant she could board Captain Jonas's boat and head for her family in England. Which was as it should be. He nodded, though the motion felt as though it tore his chest open. The pain was almost unbearable.

"It would be safer to delay," he said, slipping on his glasses. Anna abruptly became that much more beautiful. "We are vulnerable this way."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then she slowly stepped up to him. He spread his arms, welcoming her into his embrace without hesitation. And just that easily, his heart sealed, the pain faded. He pressed his face into her hair, closing his eyes as he gripped her tightly. She lifted her face, and he drew back, thinking she meant to kiss him. But before their mouths met, she whispered into his ear.

"You cannot maintain this fiction long. Someone will recognize you and you will never get close to Samuel again. We must end it now."

He swallowed, feeling a surge of anger that she could think so clearly. This was his job, and yet she was the one who focused on the task, who spoke logically while he was still trapped in the mists of last night's wonder. Was she truly as unmoved as she appeared? Or...

He drew back, searching her eyes. "Last night you said you loved me."

He saw a momentary panic swirl through her eyes before her gaze steadied. She did not hide from him, merely met his eyes with an open sorrow. "I did," she finally whispered. "I do." Then she glanced toward the door. "He will not wait much longer."

Zhi-Gang nodded, knowing she was acting exactly as she ought: putting away the past to concentrate on the present. And how easy it seemed for her. He ought to be following her example, and yet his belly churned with doubt. Had he misjudged everything? Did she truly love him? And did that matter?

"I have other wives," he said, stunned that he would speak of it now. "Some dead, another a political alliance. They mean nothing to me, but I am marrie—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping his words. "I don't care." She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against his. "It's the truth: I love you the same whether you have no wives or a million."

"Only one," he whispered. "Only you."

He would have kissed her then. He would have tried to express what was in his heart, but he didn't have time. Only one thing was clear: nothing could be decided by hiding in this room. To move forward, he had to deal with Samuel. He had to be the Enforcer. As soon as that was done...

She would leave for England and it would be done for good.

He nodded, taking one last moment to breathe in her scent. "So be it," he finally intoned. Then he set her away from him and turned to face one of China's darkest enemies.

* * *

The office smelled something like burnt tea. It took a moment for Anna to recognize the scent, but then she closed her eyes in memory. Her real father had loved Turkish cafe. That Samuel enjoyed the same brew was one of the ties that had bound her to him in the first place.

Beside her, Zhi-Gang frowned as he sniffed the air, and so she explained. He would not likely know the smell.

"Turkish cafe," she said, her eyes sliding from Zhi-Gang to the men framing the doorway just inside the office. The pistol and the deer-horn knives were out, but not aimed. They were there as warning, and Anna's back prickled with awareness as she and Zhi-Gang stepped into the room. Samuel sat at Halfy's desk, his eyes half lidded as he sipped from a cup.

"Welcome, daughter." He set his cup down and eyed Zhi-Gang. "Welcome, Mandarin."

Zhi-Gang nodded briefly, his gaze canting to the thugs. "Are they truly necessary?"

"Yes." Samuel flicked his gaze to Anna. "Do I not deserve a kiss from my daughter?"

Anna felt her face flush. "Of course," she said, ducking around the desk. But as she moved, she wondered at her actions. This man was not her father. This man had used her affection for his own ends. This man...

Had given her exactly what she'd asked for, and a great deal more. She wanted him dead for what he'd done to her, for what he was doing to China. And yet, she still felt a tie between them. He was, after all, her last link to her real father.

All these thoughts spun through her mind as she bent over to place a kiss on his cheek. He lifted his face, and she smelled the familiar scents: tobacco, perfume, opium. He rarely used himself, but he was always prepared to offer. He even carried a needle for his favorite customers.

She eyed his clothing, guessing that the wooden box would be in his left jacket pocket. She straightened, knowing he watched her closely. Was there any affection, as she'd once believed? Or suspicion? What did he feel for her?

"So, this is your new husband," he drawled. "Tell me how that came about."

"Oh, yes, well," Anna began breathlessly, slipping easily into the fairy tale. "I was running, you know, from the Enforcer..." The words flowed sweetly from her lips. In truth she had retold the story to herself a dozen times since that night she'd fabricated it for the governor's widows. It had become magical for her, a talisman, this idea that she and Zhi-Gang were desperately in love and could never be parted.

"You made it alone all the way to the Grand Canal?" Samuel asked, clearly skeptical.

She stiffened. Of all the things to doubt, he chose that? "I can be quite resourceful when I need to."

"That, I believe," Samuel said.

Zhi-Gang stepped forward, his irritation a palpable force in the room. "Women's tales are for the women's room. Wife, you will stand by my side now."

Anna blinked, startled by his tone. Gone was last night's lover. Back indeed was the Enforcer. She moved immediately to obey, but was stopped by her father's hand on her wrist. Samuel held her tight to his side, and no matter how hard she twisted her wrist, she could not escape.

"Father," she admonished softly, "I am married now. My place is at his side."

"He is a Chinaman," Samuel retorted. "And perhaps I do not recognize any wedding not performed in a Christian manner." He smiled up at her. "Stay here. Convince me of this marriage."

Anna blinked, thrown. How many times had he looked at her in just that way, his heart in his eyes, love pouring off him in waves? She knew it must be a lie. He could not have true feelings for her and still push her into the dangerous life of a runner. And yet, his love felt real.

Or it would have, if she had not known Zhi-Gang's attention, Zhi-Gang's love. Samuel was a liar and a manipulator. So she smiled sweetly—stupidly—down at her adopted father, and her heart remained with Zhi-Gang.

"Acknowledged or not," she said, "Zhi-Gang and I are—"

"He does not care," Zhi-Gang interrupted. "He cares only about the truth of the business you bring." He looked hard at Anna. "He thinks I have fooled you."

"To what end?" Anna asked, lost.

"To the end that all runners are disposable," answered Zhi-Gang. "I only needed you to meet with him. Now it is time for you to leave while I make arrangements with your father."

Anna narrowed her eyes, trying to read Zhi-Gang's expression. Was it true? Could he truly have used her just to meet with Samuel? Of course not. They had shared so much more. He intended to get her out of the way so he could kill Samuel without danger to her. She knew that. Her heart even warmed at the thought. But she could not be dismissed. Not yet. She had to see this through to the end.

Zhi-Gang continued, his voice as curt and cold as any of Samuel's mercenaries. The Chinese were never this openly derisive. Politeness was practically a religion, and yet Zhi-Gang's emotion seemed to darken the entire room.

"You want girls," he said. "I want opium. As the new governor of Jiangsu, I can supply you with what you need. You must prove that you can get me opium."

Samuel arched a bushy eyebrow. "You doubt that a white man can supply opium?"

"He doubts everything," Anna said with a shrug, using the movement to try to dislodge her father's grip. It didn't work. His fingers were strong, and he kept her tight at his side. So she turned to Zhi-Gang, staying with the pretend game of negotiation. "He has it," she said firmly.

Samuel spoke to Anna. "Does he have the girls? Young pretty ones?"

Anna wrinkled her nose. "It's a poor province. But as long as the peasants keep having babies, they'll keep selling the girls. That's how it works in China."

Samuel sneered, curling his lip as he took a sip of cafe. "Heathens."

"And yet you profit from it," Zhi-Gang growled from across the table.

Anna twisted to glare at him. What was he doing? He could not kill Samuel from across the desk, and he would never cross it without some show of congeniality.

"What else would these girls do?" Samuel sighed and shook his head. "How many starve to death or spread their legs as eighth concubine to some old man? At least this way they're getting paid for their work." Samuel pinned Zhi-Gang with a hard gaze. "And you get your opium."

Zhi-Gang didn't answer. He was, after all, pretending to be a buyer. But Anna could feel the anger that radiated out of him. Luckily, no change appeared on his face. In the end, he simply nodded, as if acknowledging Samuel's point. Then he stared pointedly at where Samuel still gripped Anna's arm.

"Release my wife," he ordered. "She has no place here."

"Oh, but she does," Samuel drawled. "She is my best runner. Or she was until she started tasting the product." He leaned back in his seat as he eyed her. "Is that why you married him? Because you knew I wouldn't give you any more? Not after you left the real buyer high and dry—"

"He was dead, father," Anna snapped. "Sliced open like a side of beef right before my eyes."

"Who was the buyer?" Zhi-Gang asked, his voice casual.

"Governor Wan," Anna answered softly. She remembered the night all too well, despite the opium haze. And sometimes when she looked at Zhi-Gang—moments like now, when his eyes were hard, his lips set in an angry grimace—she feared who he was and what he could do.

Zhi-Gang simply shrugged. "An idiot with even more idiotic wives." He shook his head. "A man can be forgiven for marrying a stupid woman, but only if he keeps her out of public view, away from ears that report to the Enforcer."

Samuel turned. "Is that what happened with Wan?"

Yes, realized Anna.

"I have no idea," answered Zhi-Gang. "But if I knew he and his friends ate opium—lots of opium—then how hard could it be for the Enforcer to know?"

Samuel slowly reached for his teacup, his eyes narrowed. "And you would avoid this fate?"

Zhi-Gang released a sharp bark of laughter. "I have not married an idiot."

The white man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" he drawled. "She takes opium. Loves it. Craves it. Isn't that right, Anna?"

Anna had been momentarily lost in her memories of Governor Wan's death. She had been thinking of her husband and wondering when he would finally act, finally be done with this game and kill Samuel. But at her father's words, she felt her face heat with shame. "You gave me my first taste!" she cried.

"How much did you eat?" her father replied. "How much even of what was meant for Wan ended up in your stomach?"

"None," she whispered. "None at all." It was the truth, but she could see by Samuel's smirk that he didn't believe her. She looked to Zhi-Gang. He believed her. She could see it in the gentling of his mouth, the twist of his lips, and most especially in the fathomless darkness of his eyes. He saw she had given up the drug, that she had continued to resist despite the cravings that plagued her. He believed in her, and in his eyes she found the strength to play her role.

"Maybe just a little," she said with a cringe.

Samuel barked with laughter. "See!" he bellowed. "See what you have married."

"I'm careful!" Anna cried. "I only celebrate with the customer. Just like you taught me!" She dropped her voice. "I'm not an addict," she lied, knowing in her heart the magnitude of the lie. She was an opium addict, she would always crave the sweet heaven that it offered. But more than even that wonderful oblivion, she respected Zhi-Gang. His touch, his caress, his love—all were a hundred times more fulfilling.

She glanced at her lover, wanting him to see the truth in her eyes. She needed him to know that she wasn't lying, that she wasn't the fool her father suggested. But when she looked up, he wasn't there; He had crossed to her side. He enfolded her in his arms and dropped his face to her hair. He simply held her; and she closed her eyes, feeling his warmth, his acceptance, and his love.

In the background, she heard the guards shift in worry. But Samuel released her hand—probably to defend himself in case of a problem—and nothing happened except a husband hugging his wife. All the room settled into silence.

Anna lifted her gaze to meet Zhi-Gang's. "I'm sorry," she whispered, staying with the role she had adopted. "I don't long for it like I did before—"

"I know," he answered, and by the look in his eyes, she knew he did know—both the truth and the lie of what she said. "Now, go to the room while I finish with your father."

She knew what he meant. He was on the near side of the desk now. He would kill Samuel when she was out of the way. So she nodded, acquiescing. It was time she allowed him to do his job. She bowed her head in acceptance, but before she left she turned one last time to her pretend father.

"All I wanted was a father who loved me. You turned me into an addict for your own ends."

Samuel shook his head, his sneer all the uglier for the way it tilted his moustache. "Do not blame me, little girl. You've been running from the day I met you—from the orphanage, from Shanghai, from wherever you are to something else." He looked at Zhi-Gang, his expression clearly indicating the marriage was just another of her way stops. "I just gave you a direction, that's all."

Shock hit Anna. At first it was a simple recoil in her gut even as her head began to shake, denying his words. But nothing she said or did could change the truth of his statement.

Her gaze leapt to Zhi-Gang, looking for strength and comfort. "It's not true," she said. "He created the situation. He manipulated..."

Zhi-Gang frowned, but not in the way of a man who believed her, who was outraged on her behalf. He was confused by her denial. "I have always known you are a runner," he said.

It was the simple, bald truth.

Her breath shuddered in her chest. She was a runner. She had always run—from her nurse, from the orphanage, from Shanghai, and even from her entire life, every time she ate opium. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she shuddered from the stark reality.

"It doesn't matter," Zhi-Gang said softly. "Go upstairs. I will follow soon."

She looked at him, and the truth hit her even harder. Her lover was offering her exactly what she most wanted: another escape. She would run while Zhi-Gang avenged her. Then she would run to England. She might as well light up a pipe.

"No," she murmured, anger stiffening her spine. It was time she stopped running away. It was time she finished something.

Where she found such strength of character was beyond her. A scant few weeks ago, such thoughts would have sent her scurrying for her opium pipe. But now, looking at the breadth of Zhi-Gang's shoulders, the dark slashes of his eyebrows, and the kind understanding in his eyes, she knew she couldn't release her burden onto him. He was more than willing to take it, but she knew the darkness in his soul. She knew the pain he suffered for decisions he had made as a boy, and as the Emperor's Enforcer. She knew, and she would not add to his burden. She would not be another soul for him to carry. It was time she took responsibility for her own life, her own decisions.

She straightened, squaring her shoulders though her heart beat in her throat. "You know, this business always made my head ache," she lied. "The truth is, you will both end up at the same place no matter how much you dicker." She stepped easily into the role of bargainer. She knew better than anyone the terms Samuel would accept.

"Three girls a month," she suggested to Zhi-Gang. "Agreed?"

Zhi-Gang nodded. It was a curt dip of his chin, and in his eyes she read fear for her safety. He did not want her in the middle of the coming fight.

She smiled in reassurance at him. For the first time in her life, she was going to fight for herself rather than run. The thought was terrifying, but it was also heartening. She might die in the next few moments, but she would at least die after having been fully alive.

She turned to her adopted father. "Where do the girls go? Which brothels?"

"He can bring them—"

"No," she interrupted. "Which brothels, Father? Write down the names. I will ensure that the girls get where they need to be."

Her father narrowed his eyes at her. "Since when do you want to run girls?"

Anna let her gaze drop to the floor. "I have come to accept the world as it is. And I wish to please my new husband."

Samuel released a sharp bark of laughter. "You mean you are not so high and mighty about running girls when your opium supply is at stake."

She looked up with pretend insult. "I will take better care of them than Halfy! I will see that their life is tolerable, that all profit from their sacrifice." She could see that he didn't completely believe her, so she pushed on as quickly as possible.

"Halfy's gone, Father. We can make this a partnership, and you keep your profits. Who else knows your ways, who can run the brothels? Who else do you trust to oversee them?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And I won't sample this merchandise."

Her father frowned. Zhi-Gang did, too. He didn't understand what she intended. But that didn't matter; he would understand as soon as she handed him the list of all her father's brothels. He would then know the names of all the hellholes that tortured girls, drugging them into prostitution. And he—the Enforcer—could decide what to do so that no one else suffered like his sister had.

Meanwhile, Samuel was obviously thinking hard. "I thought you were a married woman now. That you had no interest—"

She sighed loudly. "Enough, father. My husband understands that I have no wish to spend all my time in backwater Jiangsu. And we both want the money that can be made in Shanghai. Do you not trust me to do this? To let me take Halfy's place?" She waited, her breath held as Samuel judged her worth—or lack thereof. And then he followed where she was leading.

"You are rushing to get to the celebration," he said.

She flushed, her eyes dropping to his left jacket pocket. "I'm not rushing," she said.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the wooden case. In it lay the glass hypodermic. It landed on the desk with a muted thunk. From his other pocket he drew out a small bag that held opium. She could smell it in the air, taste the smoke on her tongue, even feel the sweet drug as it slipped into her bloodstream. She had just resolved to stand strong against her father, to act instead of run, and yet here she was, already weakening at the sight of a bag—a simple velvet bag.

"Should we start?" Samuel asked. "Do you want to celebrate now while your husband and I finish the last of the negotiations?"

"Yes." No! She took a deep breath and spoke a truth she had never voiced. "As long as you control the opium, father, you control me." She glanced sideways at Zhi-Gang. "And him. Therefore, let me run your trade in girls. Pay me in opium." She allowed herself to stretch her hand forward toward the velvet bag. "We can both get rich off the trade."

Samuel's hand shot out to grip her wrist. The bag contained a great deal of opium. He would not allow her to get to it. Not yet. Not until he had the deal he wanted. Beside her, Zhi-Gang stiffened. He wanted to protect her; she could feel his need like a wave that surrounded and supported her. With him here, she felt strong enough to face her father, to do what needed to be done.

"How many brothels? How will I run your trade?" she pressed.

"How much opium do you want?" Samuel asked.

She shrugged. "We can sell thirty pounds a month." An exorbitant amount, and it was roundly scoffed at by all in the room but Zhi-Gang. She had expected no less, even hoped for the reaction, as the two guards visibly relaxed with their laughter. They knew the rhythm of dicker, then celebration. Their services would not be needed, and so they relaxed, thinking they would simply be observers.

"Not so ridiculous an amount," Anna began. But Zhi-Gang stepped forward.

"For three beautiful girls? Twenty-five pounds a month. No less. There is a great hunger for opium in Jiangsu."

Samuel relaxed his grip on Anna's wrist and turned to Zhi-Gang. The two men engaged in a heated back and forth, apparently both enjoying the exercise. And as the negotiation continued, Samuel relaxed even more. He allowed Anna to take the velvet bag and the wood box.

She wasted no time. It only took her a moment to find the other necessary implements in the cabinet behind the desk. Then she was heating the opium and filling the needle with practiced movements. Behind her, Zhi-Gang had stepped closer, but not close enough to strike—she still stood somewhat between him and Samuel. There simply wasn't a lot of room behind the desk.

"I need the list, father," she muttered as if fully entranced with what she was doing. "The list of all your suppliers of girls. Not just the brothels. I might as well run all your shipments."

Samuel glanced at her. She barely noticed, so careful was she being with the flame as she heated the opium. But she realized he was checking the steadiness of her hands. If she trembled at all, he would believe she was untrustworthy, still an addict.

But she had been weeks off of the drug now, thanks to Zhi-Gang. Her hands were rock steady. She glanced at Samuel. "Did you want the first taste?"

It was a calculated choice. No addict would offer that; they would say there was enough for both of them, then would take that first taste. She was proving she was not the fool he'd believed. In truth, the words were unnervingly difficult to say, but she forced them out with a smile.

Samuel shook his head, seemingly pleased. "Give it to your husband first."

Zhi-Gang declined.

"More for me," Anna said—and at that point her hand did tremble, for the hunger hit hard. Would it be so bad to just take a little? For show? It might even help their cause.

She deftly maneuvered the hypodermic needle, drawing up the potent liquid. Pure opium injected directly into the veins gave joy like no other. Then she glanced at Samuel, her words off-hand: "I need all of Halfy's records, father. I have to go over them to understand who brings girls for how much opium."

"Of course, of course," Samuel said with a casual wave. "All in good time."

Anna set the bag of opium back on the table. She tossed aside the stick that had heated the spoon that melted the powder. She set everything down except for the needle, which she kept gripped and aimed for her arm.

"Have I ever done something you didn't expect, Samuel? Ever?"

He blinked, surprised. A slow smile slid over his features. "You have been an excellent daughter."

"I assume that means no. I have always done as you expected, always performed up to expectations. Even beyond, I think."

His smile grew. "Of course. I was nervous when you ran off, but... you have done very well for yourself."

"For you," she corrected.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then let me do this now. Let me show you how valuable I can be. You can supervise everything I do, but let me show you how profitable running girls can be. Tell me where Halfy's records are."

Samuel glanced at Zhi-Gang, then back to her. "You searched but couldn't find them?"

She nodded.

"That's because I have them. Here." He pointed to a leather satchel beneath his feet. "Halfy couldn't write worth a damn. Kept it all in that idiot brain of his."

Anna nodded. "So you had to keep his records. I will be a much better manager."

Samuel smiled. "Yes," he said as he bent down. Anna watched him haul the satchel up and flip open the cover. Inside were the thick books she remembered from a day long ago. She remembered Samuel writing her name in that book, and how proud she had been at the time. These indeed were the records Zhi-Gang needed. The books held enough information to end a large chunk of illicit trade—drugs, child prostitutes. Which meant it was finally time to end Samuel's hold on her for good.

It took an act of will. In the end, killing the man—even an evil man—was still damn hard. But she remembered all the lies he had told her, the families his opium had destroyed, and the girls he had bought and sold. Most of all, she knew that he wouldn't stop unless someone ended his reign. Someone like her. Right now.

While Samuel was bent over, she slammed the hypodermic down, straight into his neck. He reared up in shock, but not before she squeezed down, shooting a massive dose of pure opium into his body.

It was enough to kill him three times over. It certainly would be if it had been shot into his veins. But she hadn't hit his vein. While he would die, it would not be as fast.

The room erupted into chaos. Samuel roared, his massive hand going to his neck to pull out the needle. His movements were supposed to be slowing, his fingers fumbling from the drug. They weren't. His arms were very strong as he knocked her backward against the wall with one hand and dragged out the needle with the other.

"Kill them!" he bellowed.

The guards hadn't needed the order. They were already readying their weapons. But Zhi-Gang didn't give them the chance. As soon as she struck Samuel with the needle, he had dived for the bag of opium and whipped it at the face of the guard who held the pistol. The bag exploded, powder erupting into the air around him, fouling his grip and his vision.

But that didn't stop the other man, the one with Zhi-Gang's knives. He attacked with the speed of a monkey. He barreled forward without subtlety, going for Zhi-Gang, raising the blades with a roar of fury. Zhi-Gang took a step backward, reaching for Anna as Samuel straightened, his eyes blazing with fury.

"I'll handle Samuel!" she cried. Her voice rang out loud and strong, despite the fact that she felt slightly dazed from striking her head on the wall, and she couldn't understand why Samuel hadn't fallen to the ground dead.

Zhi-Gang meant to argue. She could tell by his expression, but the guard with the blades was swinging wildly across the wood expanse of the desk, and so he backed up with her nearly to the wall. The only one truly in danger from the blades was Samuel, who was heading for Anna, barely keeping himself out of range of the blades.

Samuel was breathing hard and his movements were erratic. "You whore!" he spat. "Bitch whore!"

He raised his massive fists, probably to strike her. But Anna had learned a few fighting tricks—some of them from Samuel himself. She ducked and slammed her shoulder into his chest. He gasped, and she felt the heavy impacts of his fists on her back. The first was a glancing blow that numbed her shoulder. The other landed like a hammer on her lower back. She cried out and dropped to her knees.

She barely had the strength to draw breath, much less tense for the coming rain of blows. But it didn't matter, she told herself; all she was doing was buying time for the opium to take effect.

The shower of blows never arrived. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw Zhi-Gang step over her and slam his fists into Samuel. She heard her adopted father grunt in surprise and watched as his feet stumbled over his satchel that lay open and abandoned on the floor. She looked up in time to see Zhi-Gang throw her adopted father backward over the desk and into the man swinging the deer-horn knives.

With a gasp of surprise, the guard tried to recover. Samuel, too, stretched forward to grab at Zhi-Gang. Neither succeeded. A blade sliced across Samuel's shoulder and bit into his neck. Blood spurted everywhere and both the guard and Anna's father screamed.

Anna straightened. She needed to see what she had wrought. She would not spare herself the consequences of her actions. But before she could rise, Zhi-Gang slammed his open hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. A second later, a pistol shot sounded. The other man.

Zhi-Gang leaped across the desk, slamming his fist into the face of the horrified guard with the knife embedded in Samuel's neck. Anna heard two, maybe three blows land—flesh hitting flesh, a grunt of pain and then a telltale gurgle. She prayed it was the man with the knives who was dead. It couldn't be Zhi-Gang...

She lifted her head far enough to see over the desk just as another pistol shot deafened her, and dropped back down with a squeak of terror. But not before she had seen Zhi-Gang, one of his knives back in his hand, leaping for the guard with the pistol.

Anna cringed and half crouched, half crawled around the desk. She had to help if she could. She had created this situation; she couldn't allow Zhi-Gang to face it alone.

But she was too late. She rounded the corner in time to see that both Samuel and the first guard were dead. And as she looked up, the one with the pistol was slowly sinking to the floor, a deer-horn knife sticking out of his chest.

She gaped. She was no stranger to blood or death, but it still took a moment for her to absorb the sight. Her gaze went to Zhi-Gang. He was spinning around, his black queue coiling around him as he moved. His eyes were fierce, his grip strong as he pulled his blade out of the last guard and scanned the room.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Are you all right?" he said at the same time.

Both answers came equally fast.

"Fine."

"No injury."

Then there was a long moment of silence as both of them stared at each other, at the room, and processed the knowledge of what they had done.

"It's finished," Anna said quietly. "I'm free."

"I would have done it," he answered, equally softly. "You didn't need to—"

"I did. You have enough of a burden. This was mine." She straightened to her full height. "I am not running anymore."

He paused then nodded, his eyes grave as he looked at her, looked at the dead men around them and then, as if a cord holding him back abruptly snapped, he closed the space between them. She was enfolded in his arms before she had a chance to draw breath. His arms surrounded her, she buried her face in his chest, and then she wrapped her arms around him, gripping him with all her strength.

"You have his records," she murmured into his chest. "You can trace all the girls coming into his brothels—not just from Jiangsu, but all over. You can stop it now. You can—"

He stopped her words with a kiss. His mouth landed on hers with a fierceness that sent a thrill of delight through her body. He was marking her with his tongue, was claiming her as his own as he thrust against her tongue, stroked her teeth, even teased the roof of her mouth. She opened herself fully to him. More; she filled herself with him, allowing his brand to sear her.

She was his. Body and soul, she gave herself to him. And in the moment when he at last pulled back, his breath coming in aching gasps, she looked into his eyes and realized the truth: she was still going to run—this time from herself. She could go all the way to England, but her life in China would always be part of her, would always break her heart.