The Grandmaster's Legacy (HOT Historical Suspense, Box Set)

by Taylor Lee

  “Oh, yes. He gave me this locket I’m wearing. Can you see it on my neck? It’s not real. But it kinda looks like gold.”

  “So that’s the price of a ticket to hell these days,” Wan said as he turned staring at the young girl who was smiling up at Bai. Wan caught Bai’s gaze and nodded.

  Bai stood up and moved toward Millie. With one hand he grabbed her by her hair and jerked her head back. With the other hand he pulled a wire from his pocket and whipped it around her neck. With a quick twist, he strangled her to death.

  ~~~

  Wyatt and Chief entered the reservation, followed by a cadre of Caballeros. Wyatt turned to the men. “We’re safe here. Please wait for us here.”

  He and Chief dismounted and went into the ramshackle shed that served as the reservation saloon. They saw Alono at one of the tables. He was with two other young men, talking quietly. When they saw Wyatt, both of the men stood up and moved aggressively toward him. Their faces darkened with anger.

  Alono shook his head and waved them back. He stared down at his beer. The men stood where they were until Chief stepped up and motioned them to move to a nearby table.

  Wyatt and Chief sat down at the table across from Alono. Alono didn’t look up. The ugly bruises on his face were visible. Wyatt’s heart lurched at the sight of the blotches that spoke to the damage beneath the skin. Joey and Chief had pushed the bone fragments back together as best as they could and bandaged them in place. The reservation healer had augmented their work. Someday he would be as handsome as he was before. For now, he looked battered and worn. A wave of remorse welled up in Wyatt. He smothered it. He would deal with that later.

  Wyatt lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

  “I need you, Alono. I need you to come back and help me.”

  Alono didn’t look up.

  “You are my brother. I need you with me.”

  Alono took a swig of beer, refusing to look at Wyatt.

  “It wasn’t about you, Alono. It was all about Lei and me. We used you—like a pawn on a chess board. I know how much you love Lei. I put you in an impossible position. It was an ugly thing to do. I’m sorry.”

  Alono looked up for the first time. He stared at Wyatt, but didn’t speak.

  “You love Lei and you treated her with honor. You were even more honorable to me. I didn’t deserve it. You were honorable. I was not.”

  Alono flushed and stared back down at the table.

  “You have taken good care of us, Alono, protected us. You even tried to protect us from ourselves. I don’t blame Lei and I sure as hell don’t blame you.

  “I don’t know if you will forgive me for what I did to you. I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself.”

  He waited for a minute, but Alono continued to gaze at the table.

  “Alono, look at me.”

  He waited until Alono looked up, pain and anger fighting for supremacy on his face. Wyatt leaned forward and snuffed out his cigarette. He held his gaze.

  “I need you, Brother. I need you to watch over me. Keep me safe while I go kill the son of a bitch who took Nicolas Deshi.”

  Alono was shocked. He listened without speaking while Chief and Wyatt told him what had happened. He stood and spoke for the first time.

  “Let’s go.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 30

  Two of the Caballeros met Wyatt, Alono, and Chief coming out of the saloon. They told them that Bai and Wan had found Nicolas Deshi. He was alive. Safe at the hotel. The three of them leapt on their horses and galloped toward Cheyenne. Their men thundered behind them.

  The hotel was surrounded by at least sixty men, some white, some Chinese. They leapt off their horses. The three of them bounded up the stairs to Lei’s and Wyatt’s room. Lei sat beside the bed where Deshi curled, fast asleep. Wan, Bai, and Nianzu stood off to the side. Tom was bleary eyed staring at the table.

  Wyatt, Chief, and Alono shot over to the bed. Wyatt reached down and put his hands gently on the little boy. He touched the bruises on his face. He pulled down the blankets and surveyed his little body. He lifted his nightshirt and ran his hands over him, feeling his shoulders, ribs, stomach, arms, legs, then turned him over and grimaced at the bruises on his back and bottom. He looked at Lei with a questioning look. She smiled through her tears and shook her head no. He covered him up and leaned down and kissed him on his forehead. He pulled Lei up next to him and they held each other tight. He kissed her, then stood and turned to the others.

  Chief and Alono were standing behind him, tears tracking their faces. Wyatt’s face was stone cold. He went to Wan and bowed low and then bowed to Bai and Nianzu.

  “Tell me.”

  Bai recounted the night’s work. He confirmed Millie’s role and told him they had killed two men with hatchets, strangled and dismembered one man in addition to strangling Millie. He described Charlie Morales’ role and what Charlie and Dirk intended to do, including the likely assault that would have happened before they killed Deshi.

  Wyatt asked, “Why?”

  “They are Demonios. They’ve been waiting since New Mexico to take you down. And because of what Lei did to Charlie.”

  “Where are they?”

  “At the Back Door Saloon.”

  Wyatt, Chief, and Alono turned to leave the room. Wan reached out and took hold of Wyatt’s arm. He spoke for the first time.

  “Wyatt, let Bai and me handle this for you. Bai will kill them in a way they will only wish it had been you.”

  Wyatt pulled away, his face grim, his eyes hard.

  Wan continued, “Listen to me, Wyatt. A candidate for governor can’t be killing people.”

  Wyatt glared at him. His eyes were as cold and hard as Wan’s. A cruel grin slowly spread across his face.

  “Well then, Wan, we have a problem, don’t we? You and I both know who I am. I was a killer long before I was a candidate. And, sure as hell, I’ll be one long after I’m a candidate.”

  He bowed low to Wan, who bowed in return, confirming he understood. He handed Wyatt the tin locket he had torn off Millie’s neck.

  “The price of a ticket to hell.”

  Wyatt nodded, took the locket, and left the room. Chief and Alono followed close behind. At the base of the stairs, ten of the fiercest Caballeros joined them as they headed over to the Back Door.

  ~~~

  The men in the saloon glanced up from their card game when the Caballeros entered. They didn’t recognize them. Dirk turned back to the game and nodded over his shoulder to the door.

  “Can’t you assholes see we’re closed? Get the hell out.”

  Chief walked in, followed by Alono.

  “There must be some mistake. Looks to us like you’re open.”

  All of the men jumped up, startled when the Caballeros drew their guns and motioned to them to line up against the wall. Within minutes, all seven men cowered against the wall their hands held high overhead as two of the Caballeros collected their guns.

  “Where’s Charlie?” Chief asked in an impassive voice.

  Several frightened men jerked their chins pointing to the back room.

  The saloon door opened and Wyatt walked in. He was smoking a cigarette and took a drag on it. He strolled to where Charlie’s men were huddled against the wall and stood for a moment perusing each with a leisurely once over.

  “Which one of you is Dirk?”

  Dirk’s face flamed. He tried to back away, his eyes wide with fear, when he saw that it was Wyatt. Wyatt walked over and stood in front of him. He squinted at the frightened man. A soft smile crept across his face. He took another unhurried drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke languidly up in the air.

  “I heard that you like little boys. Is that right?”

  Dirk’s face was a ghastly white now. His body was shaking.

  Wyatt took another drag off his cigarette. “Step out here. Right over here, next to me. That’s right.”

  Dirk stumbled forward, stopping at the place where Wyatt po
inted.

  Wyatt’s voice was low, ominous. “Take off your clothes. Now! All of them. Now!”

  The terrified man began taking off his clothes as Wyatt watched him, his eyes cold, piercing. Dirk was shaking so hard he almost fell as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt, and then the belt on his pants. When it was clear his trembling body wouldn’t hold him up to do the job, he sunk to the floor to jerk off his boots. When he was naked, he huddled in a ball on the floor, as though to make himself smaller, less vulnerable.

  Wyatt glared at him. “Stand up. Here”

  Dirk struggled to his hands and knees, then with a great effort clambered to his feet. He crouched over trying to cover his body with his hands. Tears rained down his face. Blubbering sobs racked his body.

  “Step out here. Stand up straight. Put your hands behind your head.”

  Wyatt took a drag off his cigarette. He circled the naked man, examining him slowly, carefully, as if looking for clues. After a lengthy scrutiny of Dirk’s body, he nodded as though he understood.

  “I see. Anyone with a dick that small would feel more comfortable with little boys. Now turn around in a circle. I want everyone here to see what a coward looks like.”

  Dirk’s choked sobs wracked his thin pale frame. The skin on his arms sagged; pale, flaccid flaps. His gut hung down, a round melon of soft fatty flesh. His spongy ass cheeks quivered when he moved in a humiliating circle.

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. He took another drag off his cigarette and then tossed it to the floor and crushed it with his boot.

  “Now, I want your friends to see what happens to cowards. And to anyone who comes up against me or my family.”

  Wyatt glided toward him with quiet, predatory ease. As though he was winding up a spring Wyatt turned in a tight circle and spun around. With an upside down kick he drove the heel of his boot full force in Dirk’s face. It exploded with a fearsome crack. Blood spurted across the room. Dirk’s screams were smothered in a torrent of blood and broken flesh. Over the next three minutes the men in the saloon witnessed a horrific sight—their boss being beaten by a kung fu grandmaster warrior. The expert spins, kicks, and strikes would have been stunning to watch if it wasn’t for the effect they had on Dirk’s body. Particularly the area between his legs, where Wyatt focused special attention. When there wasn’t an unbroken bone or a square inch of Dirk’s body not bruised and bleeding, Wyatt stepped back.

  He nodded to Chief and Alono, who picked up Dirk’s bloodied, shattered body. They pulled on his pants that were soon soaked with blood. They shoved him into his shirt and buttoned it up. Holding him upright between the two of them, they dragged him to the door of the back room. His head hung down. He coughed and choked on the blood oozing from his nose and mouth. Alono reached out and knocked on the door.

  “Who the hell is it?” Charlie’s voice called out.

  “Dirk.”

  The door opened and Charlie looked up from his dinner to see Dirk in the doorway, his head hanging down, his face covered with blood.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Too late. Charlie saw Chief and Alono holding him up. Both of them had drawn their guns and were pointing them at Charlie.

  They moved aside as Wyatt strode in.

  “I happened to him.”

  The color fled Charlie’s face. His eyes bulged out in fear.

  Wyatt’s smile didn’t reach his cold eyes.

  He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He nodded to Chief and Alono, who closed the door behind them. Dirk fell in a heap on the floor.

  Wyatt gazed at the terrified man sitting at the table. He said with a grin, “What’cha havin’ for dinner, Charlie?”

  He walked around behind him and drove his thumb into his shoulder. Charlie screamed in pain and tried to pull away. Putting his cigarette between his lips, with a quick twist, Wyatt snapped Charlie’s other arm behind his back. It broke with a loud crack. Charlie screamed a loud, long terrified scream.

  “Hmm, looks like chicken,” Wyatt said, answering his own question. “Damn, didn’t anyone tell you, Charlie? You gotta be careful with those chicken bones?”

  He let go of Charlie’s shoulder and stepped back. Charlie’s face was slack with pain, tears spurted from his eyes. He clutched his arm that was hanging at an odd angle. Wyatt circled slowly, watching the sobbing man cling to the edge of the table. Wyatt’s eyes were narrow, searing. His body was taut, coiled like a snake, anchoring his prey. His voice was cool, taunting.

  “Heard you’ve been waiting eight years for this meeting, huh, Charlie? Guess we need to make it memorable, given all that time. Also heard what you tried to do to Lei. How did it feel getting the crap beat out of you by a woman? Did you brag to your Demonios buddies about that one? Or did you keep it to yourself? I bet you did. I also bet you’ve spent the last year of your life wondering if you’ll ever get your dick and asshole back to where they were.

  “Well, Charlie, tell you what. And the news isn’t good. I came to finish the job Lei started. Lei is more principled than I am. She doesn’t kill her victims.”

  Wyatt was a graceful fighter. Those who watched him spar often remarked on the beauty of his intricate aerial moves – elegant lethal power in flight. But those on the receiving end of his killing talent knew what it was to be beaten mercilessly. His hands were like mallets. His powerful kicks could break a leg or crush ribs with a quick strike. An elbow to the shoulder would shatter it or leave it paralyzed for life. And that was nothing compared to what he did to internal organs.

  “You were going to kill my three year old son, is that right, Charlie? And torture him? Assault him before you killed him? That’s what you had in mind? You fucking son of a bitch. Is that right?”

  Charlie was crying, deep gulping sobs, begging Wyatt to let him go. Wyatt’s eyes were cold, fierce. The soft smile never left his face.

  “How about we do some role reversal, Charlie? I’ll play you and you can be the victim. The helpless one. The one crying and begging. The one who just wishes he was dead. Are you up for that? Huh, Charlie? Are you? Well, then, let’s have at it!”

  Wyatt dragged him out of his chair by his broken arm. Charlie’s piercing screams filled the air. For the next several minutes Charlie became a human punching bag. The recipient of a dozen fierce kicks from his neck to his feet. Followed by pummeling fists and finally a skin splitting roundhouse kick to his groin.

  When he was finished, Wyatt hoisted the broken, wailing man back up in his chair. He purposefully had ensured there was no blood on his face.

  “You can finish your dinner now, Charlie. Here, let me help you.”

  He grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head back. Prying his mouth open, Wyatt stuffed a piece of chicken down his throat. Charlie gagged and started to choke, his face was a hideous shade of dark purple. Wyatt stepped behind him and put both hands around Charlie’s his neck and pressed. There was an audible crack. Charlie’s head snapped to the table.

  Wyatt muttered, “Goddamn. I think Charlie choked on a chicken bone. Hmm. Well, hell, you can’t say I didn’t warn him.”

  He opened the door into the saloon. As he walked out, he nodded over his shoulder to Chief and Alono.

  “You can call the Sheriff now. Let him know we found Nicolas Deshi.

  “Probably too late to call the doctor for them,” he said, nodding to Dirk’s and Charlie’s bodies.

  He ambled into the saloon where Charlie’s men cowered against the wall, their eyes wide with terror. He lit a cigarette and slowly walked back and forth in front of them, looking each one of them in the eyes. As if he was memorizing their faces. He took a lazy drag off his cigarette.

  “Craziest thing in there, fellas. Dirk and Charlie really went at it. Had a real falling out. Charlie damn well killed him. Hell, since Dirk isn’t breathing, I guess you could say he did kill him. Then I’ll be damned if that old Charlie didn’t go back and sit down to his dinner. Hell, the next thing you know, Charlie choked on a chicken
bone.”

  Wyatt shook his head in mock dismay. His eyes twinkled. “Gotta be careful of chicken bones, fellas. They can be deadly.”

  He turned and walked out the door, muttering, “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen…”

  The Caballeros holstered their guns and followed him out. Chief and Alono were the last to leave. Chief stood in the doorway and studied the terrified men plastered against the wall.

  “When the Sheriff gets here you will need to tell him what happened. If any of you forget the details Wyatt just told you, Alono and I and the rest of the Caballeros will find you. Help you remember. Oh, and there are fifty men who ride with Wan Chang who also know what happened tonight. They can remind any of you who forgets. Like Wyatt, they are kung fu warriors. Unlike Wyatt, when they finish beating a man within an inch of his life, they bury a hatchet in his skull.”

  He left the saloon to join the others, closing the door behind him.

  ~~~

  In the morning, people across the state were poring over newspapers if their town had one, or going from ranch to ranch consumed with the awful news of Nicolas Deshi’s capture. It was the biggest news to hit the state. Several national papers picked it up. By Noon, the word was spreading that the boy had been found and people rushed from place to place eager for confirmation. By evening it was confirmed; Nicolas Deshi was safe. The big questions now were who kidnapped him and did Wyatt agree to quit the race to get him back.

  Publically, the sheriff concluded that the Tongs were responsible for the kidnapping and the six seemingly related deaths. Privately, he didn’t know what the hell happened. He listened quizzically to the convoluted explanation from the seven terrified men in the Back Door Saloon. Knowing Wyatt’s history and skills intimately, he had a good idea of how things went down. In fact, a damn good idea.