by Joanna Shupe
“Some, but not you.” The stark lines of Lee’s face deepened. “I do a considerable amount of good here in Chinatown, helping others to get settled in America. Finding jobs and places to live. Yet your papers have not had complimentary things to say.”
“They have not called you out specifically by name,” Calvin hedged.
They both knew the excuse a lame one, an insult to Lee’s intelligence, and Lee’s eyes turned hard. Calvin was done playing nice, however. He needed something from Lee, a favor he’d been quite uncooperative in providing. Patience eroded, Calvin was prepared to fight with any means at his disposal, which started with his newspapers.
The door opened and one of Lee’s men carried in a simple clay tea set on a lacquered tray. For a few moments they waited while the tea was prepared and poured, the ritual both predictable and soothing. Calvin had missed true Chinese tea. The English thought they knew tea, but China had perfected it first.
The cups were placed in front of Calvin and Lee, after which the man departed. Calvin lifted his cup, reached over, and switched it with Lee’s. “A precaution, you understand,” Calvin said, taking Lee’s original cup.
“Of course. I would do the same in your position.”
They both lifted their cups and drank. The flowery warmth slid down Calvin’s throat and he relaxed. At least any attempts to poison him tonight had been thwarted.
“It seems you lied about your wife in Yuen Long, the one you would like to bring to New York,” Lee said. “Or were you hoping to keep more than one wife?”
“She is my wife,” Calvin lied, “and I still need to bring her here. That hasn’t changed. How did you find out about my marriage to Lillian Davies?”
Lee’s lips twisted in a knowing smirk. “You are not the only one who gathers information, Mr. Cabot. Your second wife, I assume, would not care for the news to be discovered.”
“The marriage was annulled.”
“Yes, your father-in-law stepped in and convinced you to walk away. You were not a suitable match for his only daughter.”
Convinced was a nice way of putting it, Calvin thought, hiding his reaction in his teacup as he sipped. “I only want one thing from you, which you’ve promised now for more than a year. The stories won’t stop until I get what I need—or rather, who I need.”
“It seems we both have someone lost to us that we must recover.”
Calvin frowned over the enigmatic comment. He realized his ears were ringing and the air around him had slowed considerably, as if he were swimming in molasses. “Who have you lost?” he asked, his tongue strangely thick.
Lee watched him carefully, setting his own teacup on the tray. Cold realization settled in Calvin’s bones. “Diu,” he cursed. “You drugged me . . .” He gripped the sides of the chair, looking for purchase, trying to stop the inevitable.
“I knew you would switch the cups,” Lee said from far away, as if underwater.
The world upended. Calvin tumbled from the chair. Once on the floor he noticed the door swing open, and one of Lee’s men dragged in a woman wearing a golden gown. The breath left Calvin’s chest, a crushing fear turning his blood cold. What in hell was Lily doing here?
And then blackness swallowed him whole.
* * *
“Calvin!” Lily broke free of the men holding her and rushed forward to his side. She patted his cheeks, hard, but the man was out. Why was he here?
She glared at the older Chinese man, the one who’d been in the room with Calvin. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing he did not deserve, Miss Davies.”
She blinked. “How do you know my name?”
“Most everyone knows you, at least in New York. I am Mr. Lee.”
Beneath her fingertips, Calvin’s chest rose and fell steadily, and she exhaled in relief. He was fine, for the moment. From the little she’d seen tonight, Lily did not care for Mr. Lee’s tactics. She had arrived at the Pell Street address a few moments ago with her Pinkerton escort. After words were exchanged in the store on the ground level, a guard had forcibly removed Lily to the second floor, while her escort was restrained, unable to follow.
Lee was shorter than she’d expected, dressed in a dark suit with a matching vest. A black beard covered the lower half of his face and a long black braid ran down his back. His eyes were hard, the dark irises impatient and knowing, as if he were barely tolerating her. She hardly cared if her presence annoyed him; she needed to know what all this had to do with Tom.
Rising, she threw her shoulders back, determined not to be intimidated. “You sent me a letter. It said my brother has something that belongs to you, but I don’t have any idea what he has taken. My brother is traveling at the moment.”
“Would you care to sit, Miss Davies?”
She glanced at the tea set on the table, Calvin’s half-empty cup, which had clearly been poisoned. “No, I prefer to stand.”
“If that is your choice.” He clasped his hands and cocked his head, studying her. “Do you know where your brother is?”
“No. He does not always inform me of his plans.” Which was a lie. After their father died, she and her brother had grown closer, and they made every effort to keep each other notified when traveling. Except Tom hadn’t this time, which was how Lily had known something was terribly wrong.
“That is unfortunate. I will give you until the end of the month to bring him to me, and then I must take action.”
“Revealing news of the annulment?”
“To start, yes.”
A shiver went through her at the dark promise in those few words. What else would Lee do to get his hands on Tom? “You must tell me why you are interested in my brother. The note said he’d taken something that belonged to you. What was it?”
“That is between your brother and myself. Needless to say, he must return what he has taken.”
“I’m certain I can pay you whatever—”
“The value of this item cannot be measured in dollars, Miss Davies. Ming Zhu is priceless to me.”
Frustration and nerves rolled around in her stomach. She’d hoped to reach an accord with Lee this evening, but she could see the prospect was hopeless. “I have no idea how you learned of the annulment, but I do not want word of it or the marriage to be spread.” She would be humiliated and Montgomery might well be hurt. He had no idea she’d ever been married before.
“Then I hope to see your brother before the first of next month.”
Damn it. She glanced down at Calvin, still unmoving on the floor. “What did Mr. Cabot wish to speak with you about?”
“That business is between Mr. Cabot and myself.”
“Then why drug him—” Then the answer became clear. Lee had planned to harm Calvin tonight. Or worse.
She swallowed and marshaled her courage. No way would she leave him behind. “I am taking Mr. Cabot with me. If you try to stop me, I’ll have the police commissioner here in less than an hour.”
Lee’s expression revealed nothing, but Lily felt her first true stab of fear as she realized her vulnerable position. Would anyone help her here, in Lee’s place of business? With the Pinkerton on the ground floor and Calvin unconscious, she was truly on her own.
“Mr. Cabot has obviously fallen ill and he will be much too heavy for you. I think it’s best if he slept it off upstairs. You may come back tomorrow.”
Everything inside her screamed no, not to leave Calvin here. Whatever Lee planned, Calvin would suffer. And despite their past, she would not allow him to be hurt.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I have a man downstairs. He’ll be able to carry Mr. Cabot.”
Lee strode to the door, opened it, and spoke in his native language to someone in the hall. When he turned he met her gaze. “You are a very spirited woman, Miss Davies. You would be wise not to return, lest someone decides to see what it would take to break you.”
Her stomach clenched at the threat, but she remained quiet. Two men entered, one being the Pinkerton
she’d hired and the other Calvin’s valet, Hugo. She hadn’t seen Hugo downstairs earlier, but it stood to reason he’d be nearby.
“You get his head and I’ll get his feet,” the Pinkerton told Hugo. The two men then worked together to lift Calvin’s dead weight off the floor. It couldn’t have been easy.
How much of the drug had he been given? Would he die? She had no experience with nursing someone through anything of this sort. Hugo would look after him, of course, but he should be seen by a doctor. Regardless, she didn’t want to let him out of her sight until he awoke. “Put him in my carriage, please.”
“Not sure he’ll appreciate us doing that, missus,” Hugo murmured. “He’s likely to wake up spitting mad.”
Lily shepherded them out of Mr. Lee’s office. Her only concern was Calvin’s safety. “He does not have a choice.”
* * *
The pounding in his skull woke him, an insistent thud of spikes being hammered into his brain. Calvin blinked in the dim light and immediately recognized the garish corner of hell to which he kept returning.
For God’s sake, how had she found him again? Why wouldn’t this woman leave him alone?
He shifted under the covers, testing his limbs to see if she’d removed anything vital. Exhaling, he found all was, thankfully, in place—then he remembered. Lee. Chinatown. The tea. His breath caught and he closed his eyes. Shit, what had happened after he fell to the floor? The last thing he recalled was Lily’s face above him.
A chair squeaked and he heard light footsteps. “Please let that be Hugo.”
“I sent him away an hour ago. He wouldn’t leave your bedside despite being dead on his feet. I ordered him to a guest room to rest and freshen up.”
Calvin felt the cool, smooth slide of her fingertips over his forehead. Warmth worked its way down limbs gone lax from the drug. He nearly arched into her touch, begging for the soothing motion to continue, but sanity returned. He turned his head and she promptly dropped her hand.
“And you’re welcome,” she said, a bite to her voice. “Good thing I arrived when I did. I don’t know how you displeased Mr. Lee, but I fear he had unsavory plans for you last night.”
Unsavory was one way to put it, he supposed. Lee wouldn’t dare kill him—Calvin was too notorious and influential in New York—but there were many ways to make a man suffer while keeping him alive. Calvin would need to remain more vigilant in their future encounters.
He lifted his lids, frowned at her. “Wait—what were you doing there? Lee is dangerous, Lily.”
One blond eyebrow rose. “Weren’t you the person who told me to hire a translator and see Lee myself? That is precisely what I did.”
Well, he hadn’t expected her to actually follow his advice. After all, when had she ever listened to him? If he said the earth was round, she’d argue until doomsday that it was flat. “Out of all the vows we exchanged, obey was never the one I expected you to adhere to.”
“The marriage was annulled, in case you’ve forgotten, and I needed to reason with Lee. Six days—now five—is not nearly enough time to find Tom.”
“What did Lee say?”
“That Tom has taken something priceless and Lee wants it returned. I tried to offer him money, but he would not accept it.”
So the situation was as Calvin suspected. It seems we both have someone lost to us that we must recover, Lee had said. “It’s a person. That’s why Lee won’t accept money. Has Tom been frequenting Chinatown of late?”
“A person? I cannot imagine Tom knows any of Lee’s associates.”
He knew he had to break it to her. The question was, would the stubborn woman believe him? “Not an associate. An employee.”
She started to shake her head before he even finished. “No, Tom wouldn’t know anyone who works for Mr. Lee. He’s not an opium eater, nor does he gamble.”
“You’re forgetting Lee’s other trade.”
Realization dawned in her chestnut-colored eyes and she drew away, gliding toward the window. “Are you saying Tom ran away with . . .”
“One of Mr. Lee’s prostitutes. Yes, that is precisely what I am saying.”
She looked over her shoulder, a stubborn set to her jaw that he well recognized. “I do not believe you. Tom would never visit a . . .”
Calvin almost laughed, but he knew she would not appreciate the humor. He struggled to a sitting position. “Yes, he very well might. He’s a man, Lily.”
She seemed to mull that over for a moment, blond brows lowered in concentration. “Have you, then? Visited a prostitute, I mean.”
“Yes. Years ago in Hong Kong.” Her lips pursed, angry white lines appearing to bracket her mouth, and he held up his hands. “Prostitution is legal there.”
“I suppose you believe that absolves you of any wrongdoing. Men are disgusting.”
“Yes, we most definitely are,” he said, “which is why I know what happened with your brother. Now, where might he take a woman to hide her away? Does your family own any other properties?”
“A few. There’s the apartment in Paris. An estate in Northumberland. Daddy’s hunting lodge on the Saint Lawrence River. A house in Palm Beach. Oh, and the Newport cottage, of course—”
“Please, stop.” Jesus, his head spun with the amount of money Warren Davies had accumulated—and spent. Calvin had a fortune as well, but he certainly wasn’t wasting it on houses no one used. “You’d exhaust a year just traveling to check on all those places. When was the last time you saw him?”
“April second. I finally got him to agree to visit the mine. The trip takes a week, but he never arrived. No one’s seen him since he left Grand Central. What did you want with Mr. Lee last night?”
He blinked at the swift change in topic. “Nothing that concerns you. Let’s return to the problem of your brother.”
“No, I prefer to spend more time on why you absconded with my note yesterday and then I found you in Chinatown last night. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. I’ve been honest with you.”
She snorted. “Please. You’re more slippery than a snake oil salesman. Tell me what you want with Lee and why he tried to incapacitate you last night.”
Calvin sighed and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. Placing his bare feet on the carpeted floor, he rose slowly, giving his head a chance to adjust to the change in altitude. Christ, he hurt all over. And he needed to get to the office. It was already nine o’clock and the boys would be laying out tomorrow’s front page.
Hoping to placate her, he gave her a half truth. “I’m running stories about the corruption in Chinatown in the Mercury. Mr. Lee is not named, but he’s heavily implicated.”
“So he hopes to intimidate you into stopping the stories?”
“Yes.” Of course the stories were Calvin’s way of pressuring Lee, but he saw no need to mention that.
“I hope you aren’t putting yourself at risk for the sake of selling a few more papers.”
He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and gave her a taunting smirk. “Worried about me, sweetheart?”
Her lip curled slightly. “Hardly. You’re indestructible. So what are we going to do about Tom?”
He didn’t want to help her, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of her tramping around Chinatown, searching for answers about her brother, even with Pinkertons at her side. Lily was tough as nails, but she couldn’t protect herself in some quarters. The thought of her at Lee’s caused the hair on the back of Calvin’s neck to stand up.
Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to do some investigating. He had a wide web of friends and informants in Chinatown; surely one of them would know what had happened to Tom Davies. If the man had been frequenting one of Lee’s brothels, someone would have heard.
Furthermore, it would make one hell of a story for the paper. . . .
He reached for his frock coat, which had been folded neatly at the end of the bed. God bless Hugo. “Let me do some digging,” he told her as he pulled on t
he coat. “If I promise you that much, will you stay out of Chinatown?”
She chewed her lip, the smooth flesh disappearing between her two rows of teeth. A familiar heat rolled through him, tightening his skin. He dragged his eyes down the womanly form he remembered so well. A cream shirtwaist clung to generous curves, the cloth showing off long limbs and the slim column of her throat. His fingers itched with the need to peel back the layers of clothing and reveal the softness he knew lay underneath.
He could still imagine the tight clasp of her around his erection, her warm, sweet breath on his cheek. She had been so eager, so passionate, that the skin of his cock had rubbed raw on their honeymoon. Never had an injury brought him more pain . . . or pride.
“Fine,” she agreed, breaking into his inappropriate thoughts. “But I want to come with you.”
“That’s preposterous. You cannot shadow me in such dangerous parts of town. It’ll be easier if I go alone.”
“Also making it easier for you to lie to me about what you discover. I don’t trust you, Calvin.”
He ground his teeth together, clamping down on the angry retort burning his tongue. She didn’t trust him? He’d only broken his promises because of his debt to Hugo, not to mention protecting her from a life of penury.
If they’d stayed married, he’d be toiling as a reporter somewhere and she would be . . . He couldn’t even conceive it. Darning his socks and looking after their children? Doing wash for neighbors to earn a few extra pennies each week? To imagine Lily—who traveled to Paris to purchase her drawers—performing those tasks was laughable. The woman should be prostrate with gratitude considering what he’d saved her from.
And if one had reason not to trust the other, it was surely he. What about her running off to serve on Pulitzer’s board?
Forget the past. They’d both moved on, living different lives since the annulment, and he certainly had no reason to keep his word now.
“Fine, princess. I’ll cable you when I’m ready to go sleuthing. And if you can drag yourself away from your high-step lifestyle for a moment or two, perhaps you’ll tag along.”