turned a hundred shades of crimson.
“Not to change the subject—”
Thank God, she thought. He was going to
change the subject.
“—but I’d like to spend some time
familiarizing you with a lady named Fang Baolian.”
“A friend of yours?” she asked, trying to
keep the conversation going in the new direction.
A kiss of
death
. She could just imagine what it was—barely. Maybe. She
cast a glance at him, wondering if he’d ever had one. Then she
chastised herself for prurient curiosity.
“No,” he said, leaning forward to get his
briefcase. “Not a friend. A pirate, the worst of the lot.”
“Is she someone you’re after . . . in a
professional sense?” She ought to be ashamed of herself, and she
was, but she was also curious. What kind of man was he, anyway? she
wondered.
He snapped open the briefcase and removed a
batch of files. “Until I get her,” he said, “she’s the only one I’m
after.”
“What about Pablo Lopez?”
“He’s a stepping-stone to Baolian. He used
to be her man in Manila before he decided to go out on his own. He
should have stuck with Baolian. She never hits the same line or
shipping federation twice in the same year, not anymore. By
concentrating on Somerset, Lopez has made himself known and
notorious. Somebody has to take him out.”
The phrase, and the way he said it, set off
all of Jessica’s warning bells. Masking her alarm with a casual
tone, she asked, “What exactly do you mean by ‘take him out’?”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Langston,” he drawled. “I
didn’t hire you for the dirty work.”
Somehow, she didn’t take much comfort in his
answer. She was tempted to ask him what he thought negotiating the
price on a man’s freedom was, if not dirty work. Instead she asked
something else she’d been wondering about. “What did you hire me
for?”
He spent some time organizing the files
before he replied. “You mentioned a lot of the reasons yourself,
last night.”
“But not all the reasons?”
“The rest of it is a little hard to explain.
I guess you could call it a last-ditch effort.”
She hadn’t thought she could slip any lower
than a fatal error in judgment or a dandy little helper. She’d been
wrong. Being hired as a “last-ditch effort” took the prize.
“A hundred men have died trying to bring
Baolian to her knees,” he continued. “I want her stopped. I think a
woman can help me do it.”
“A woman?” She didn’t like the sound of
that. She also wondered if his brother was one of the hundred
men.
“Strictly behind the scenes,” he assured
her, looking uneasy for the first time since she’d met him. It was
the only crack she’d seen in his armor of arrogance, and like his
laughter, she found it remarkably appealing.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” she
said.
He was quiet for a moment, his unease
obviously increasing. “Women . . . well, women are different from
men. They see things where men see nothing, and they respond to
what they see. I can’t get at Baolian by playing a man’s game of
strength. It’s too obvious. She’ll never let herself be
outgunned.”
“Smart woman,” Jessica said while she
wondered what it was he thought women saw that men didn’t.
“She is that,” he agreed. “But according to
your transcripts and Elise Crabb, so are you—very, very
intelligent. I’m gambling that if I give you enough information,
you can tell me something about Baolian I never would have figured
out on my own.”
He was full of surprises. From what she’d
seen of him so far, she wouldn’t have taken him to be a closet
feminist. Personally, she doubted if his theory about women knowing
women would hold even an ounce of water, but she wasn’t sure if she
should tell him or not.
“I see,” was all she said. She’d wait until
she had a better understanding of what he wanted, if that was
possible, considering the vagueness of his description.
“There’s a million-dollar bounty on
Baolian’s
“Not to change the subject—”
Thank God, she thought. He was going to
change the subject.
“—but I’d like to spend some time
familiarizing you with a lady named Fang Baolian.”
“A friend of yours?” she asked, trying to
keep the conversation going in the new direction.
A kiss of
death
. She could just imagine what it was—barely. Maybe. She
cast a glance at him, wondering if he’d ever had one. Then she
chastised herself for prurient curiosity.
“No,” he said, leaning forward to get his
briefcase. “Not a friend. A pirate, the worst of the lot.”
“Is she someone you’re after . . . in a
professional sense?” She ought to be ashamed of herself, and she
was, but she was also curious. What kind of man was he, anyway? she
wondered.
He snapped open the briefcase and removed a
batch of files. “Until I get her,” he said, “she’s the only one I’m
after.”
“What about Pablo Lopez?”
“He’s a stepping-stone to Baolian. He used
to be her man in Manila before he decided to go out on his own. He
should have stuck with Baolian. She never hits the same line or
shipping federation twice in the same year, not anymore. By
concentrating on Somerset, Lopez has made himself known and
notorious. Somebody has to take him out.”
The phrase, and the way he said it, set off
all of Jessica’s warning bells. Masking her alarm with a casual
tone, she asked, “What exactly do you mean by ‘take him out’?”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Langston,” he drawled. “I
didn’t hire you for the dirty work.”
Somehow, she didn’t take much comfort in his
answer. She was tempted to ask him what he thought negotiating the
price on a man’s freedom was, if not dirty work. Instead she asked
something else she’d been wondering about. “What did you hire me
for?”
He spent some time organizing the files
before he replied. “You mentioned a lot of the reasons yourself,
last night.”
“But not all the reasons?”
“The rest of it is a little hard to explain.
I guess you could call it a last-ditch effort.”
She hadn’t thought she could slip any lower
than a fatal error in judgment or a dandy little helper. She’d been
wrong. Being hired as a “last-ditch effort” took the prize.
“A hundred men have died trying to bring
Baolian to her knees,” he continued. “I want her stopped. I think a
woman can help me do it.”
“A woman?” She didn’t like the sound of
that. She also wondered if his brother was one of the hundred
men.
“Strictly behind the scenes,” he assured
her, looking uneasy for the first time since she’d met him. It was
the only crack she’d seen in his armor of arrogance, and like his
laughter, she found it remarkably appealing.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” she
said.
He was quiet for a moment, his unease
obviously increasing. “Women . . . well, women are different from
men. They see things where men see nothing, and they respond to
what they see. I can’t get at Baolian by playing a man’s game of
strength. It’s too obvious. She’ll never let herself be
outgunned.”
“Smart woman,” Jessica said while she
wondered what it was he thought women saw that men didn’t.
“She is that,” he agreed. “But according to
your transcripts and Elise Crabb, so are you—very, very
intelligent. I’m gambling that if I give you enough information,
you can tell me something about Baolian I never would have figured
out on my own.”
He was full of surprises. From what she’d
seen of him so far, she wouldn’t have taken him to be a closet
feminist. Personally, she doubted if his theory about women knowing
women would hold even an ounce of water, but she wasn’t sure if she
should tell him or not.
“I see,” was all she said. She’d wait until
she had a better understanding of what he wanted, if that was
possible, considering the vagueness of his description.
“There’s a million-dollar bounty on
Baolian’s
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