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

by Taylor Lee

  “Have you ever thought about sharing? There’s room at this table for both of us.”

  Bai quirked an eyebrow and a wicked grin tugged at his mouth. He drew on his cigarette, then shook his head.

  “You can ask around, Rory, but you will get the same answer from anyone you ask. I don’t share.”

  He looked over at Elena, making it clear he was talking about her, then added, “Or anything else.”

  Rory nodded as if that was the answer he’d expected and then undeterred, he pointed to Wyatt.

  “My understanding is that you share with the governor.”

  Both Elena and Bai smiled and he caught Nianzu and Wyatt’s corresponding grins.

  “The only way I became Wyatt’s apprentice was to become a kung fu grandmaster when I was seventeen years old; a year younger than Wyatt did, and over the years saving his son’s life once and his daughter’s twice.”

  Nianzu, who had been quiet throughout the discussion, turned to Rory and said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “You have a ways to go, Mick.”

  Rory felt his face flame at Nianzu’s rude slur when Wyatt spoke up, softening the blow.

  “Understand, Rory. In the years following that apprenticeship, the apprentice has become the master. For many years, it was my comfort to know that Bai had my back. Now it is my honor to have his.”

  Bai stood and bowed slightly to Rory and his men, indicating the conversation was over.

  “Thank you for a pleasant evening. I trust you will have a good journey back to your territory.”

  He motioned to Elena, who came and stood beside him. Both Wyatt and Nianzu rose and nodded to the three men left sitting at the table.

  As the four of them turned to leave the room, Rory sat back in his chair and slapped a big grin on his face. In a voice dripping with his best brogue, he pointed to Elena and said to Wyatt, “Sure ‘en you canna tell me, govner’ there ain’t Irish blood flowin’ in that sweet little lass!”

  Wyatt’s eyes twinkled and he took a deliberate puff off his cigar.

  “Tell you what, Rory, if there is, it has been dominated by a stronger power – Apache.”

  ~~~

  Later that evening, Rory, Mike, and Patrick sat in the hotel bar licking their wounds and drowning their frustration with the finest Irish whisky available.

  Patrick looked Rory in the eye and raised his glass to him.

  “I know you think I’m trying to cheer you, Rory, but there isn’t any question that the Frenchman liked you. It’s clear he’s a loner and, hell, if you think about it, why would he want to share, territory or any other damn thing? He’s sitting on the top of the mountain like the fuckin inscrutable Chinaman he is. Look at the people he’s close to. His wife, her father who he’s known since he was a kid, his lieutenant who is more like his brother than one of his men, and I understand he and his father, Wan Chang, are inseparable. And, hell, that old Chink is a legend. From everything I hear, he and Wyatt McManus are the only ones who come close to the Frenchman in ferocity and imaginative ways of killing their enemies.”

  “Yeah, Pat, I know you’re right. But, goddamn, what I would give to be associated with the Frenchman. Holy fucking Christ, he is most impressive man I’ve ever seen, and without question the scariest son of a bitch any of us will ever meet.”

  Rory lowered his eyes and didn’t try to hide the sad smile that crept across his face. He kept his voice low, almost a whisper.

  “And Holy Mary, Mother of God, that beautiful little wife of his…”

  “Any chance you’ll tell us what happened between you two before dinner? Sure as hell something did,” Mike said with a knowing grunt. “I know you, Rory. I know what happens when you get around a sweet smelling pussy and, from the look of that possessive son of a bitch, I’d say you stuck your stinger in the wrong honey pot.”

  Rory was too good humored to stay morose for long. At heart, he liked a good story as much as he liked a pretty pussy, even if the tale made him look like an ass. That gift had made him the best-liked gang leader in New York and sought after company up and down the East Coast.

  He chuckled, then with a good natured grin, filled Patrick and Mike in on the results of his overwhelming attraction to Elena.

  “Sweet Jesus, how was I supposed to know that a little Irish lass was married to the Frenchman? Hell, I saw her coming down the hallway and my goddamned prick about jumped out of my pants and introduced himself. I’m tellin you, I ain’t never seen anything like her. I can’t remember the time I’ve reacted that strongly to a woman, I don’t care how pretty a pussy she had.”

  He shook his head, recounting the length and breadth of the blarney he swilled, never guessing that her husband, the fucking Frenchman, overheard him. Mike and Patrick sat wide eyed at the story. A frown crossed Mike’s face, clearly thinking what might have happened to his boss and his best friend.

  “Hell, Rory, I had no idea. You’re fuckin’ lucky to be alive.”

  “Well, I almost wasn’t. I might of made it out of there without injury if I had enough sense to tell her she was a beauty and then gone on my way. But no, as usual, I was thinking with my dick.”

  He smiled, his eyes dancing at the memory.

  “Christ, she looked like she stepped right out of a meadow in Killarny. She stopped me cold. Hell, for a minute there, I was absolutely speechless. When I got my prick out of my throat, I started sweet talkin’ her, softening her up and then, damnit, I just couldn’t stop myself. I leaned over to touch her hair. I tell you, I couldn’t help it. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I reached down to touch her and I swear on my Grandma O’Reilly’s virginity, my fingers weren’t two inches above her head when out of nowhere a knife comes flying across the room and pins my fuckin’ sleeve to the wall.”

  He stopped for a moment for emphasis and took a hearty swig of whisky. He shook his head and continued with a disbelieving grin.

  “I gotta tell you, the most amazing thing wasn’t that he could throw a knife like that--or that he would take a chance, be so sure he wouldn’t hit his wife. No, boys, the most amazing thing was that the fucker was smoking a goddamn cigarette when he threw that knife twenty feet and pinned me to the wall.”

  Patrick and Mike sat dumfounded, looking as stunned as Rory had felt.

  Rory rolled his eyes and a wistful smile curved his mouth.

  “Then, and Christ, I still can hardly believe this…but then that little lass, that beu- ti- ful little lass… reaches up to take the knife out of my sleeve and twists it, cuts me about a quarter of an inch deep on my wrist. I’ll be damned if it isn’t still bleeding.”

  He held up his wrist with a bloody handkerchief wrapped around it. Rory looked down at his wound, admiration shining in his eyes.

  “Hell, it’s a scar I’ll carry to my grave in her memory,” he said with a rueful smile.

  He quirked an eyebrow and a salacious grin spread across his face.

  “Can you imagine the kinda sex that takes place between those two? Hell, any man whose wife trusts him that much and he trusts her not to move… Christ, there probably ain’t a thing he couldn’t or wouldn’t do to her or, hell, that she wouldn’t do to him. Sweet Jesus, just imagining it is enough to make my prick stand at attention, leakin’ like a sieve.”

  ~~~

  Bai and Elena planned to spend the night at the Palace Hotel. As they said stood in the hallway saying good night to Wyatt and Nianzu, Bai took a puff off his cigar and didn’t try to hide the twinkle in his eyes or the grin on his face.

  “I’ve been thinking about our plan to take down Aldo. Since Rory is anxious to work with us, it might be interesting to incorporate him.”

  Wyatt looked at him in surprise.

  “I sure as hell didn’t think I’d hear you suggest that, Bai!”

  Bai smiled and took another puff off his cigar.

  “He wants to be our apprentice? How about we make him one – an unwitting one, that is.”

 
; A minute later, after listening to Bai’s idea, both Wyatt and Nianzu were grinning in admiration.

  Wyatt shook his head and clapped Bai on the shoulder.

  “Hell, that’s rich, Bai. Christ, I’m always reminded of how goddamn happy I am to be working with you, not against you! But you’re right. That son of a bitch wants to work with us? Crazy bastard. Yeah, let’s give him a taste of what that means. Especially since he’ll be doing it without his knowledge.’

  All three men laughed in appreciation at the thought of Rory’s unwitting participation.

  ~~

  Chapter 25

  Bai sat sprawled against the back of the chair, his feet crossed at his ankles, a large snifter of brandy in one hand, his cigar in the other. His hair was loose, tousled from running his fingers through it. His fine linen shirt was open at the neck, revealing the smattering of soft black hair on his chest. He had unbuttoned most of the buttons and rolled up his sleeves. His relaxed posture showed his bulging arousal to excellent effect.

  Elena peeked over at him, not sure what to expect. Though Bai had been cordial, charming at dinner, she knew he was furious that Rory had propositioned her and angry that the four men had openly fought for her attention throughout the evening.

  Elena thought with an exquisite shudder, he looked as though he was ready to go to work – on her. Only his eyes, hard, dark, gleaming yellow, telegraphed his quiet fury. His voice was soft, clipped.

  “Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Elena?’

  “Very much, did you?”

  “Did you like having four men lust after you?”

  “Hmm, I thought that there were five men lusting after me, but I guess you were too busy charming our guests.”

  “Ah, I see. My naughty little whore, my vilain petite puta is feeling feisty, challenging? Do you think that is wise, cherie? To taunt me when you know I am angry?”

  She was determined not to be cowed by him. She knew she had done nothing wrong and, damnit, she couldn’t help it if those men thought she was attractive. She walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a tumbler of brandy. She took a sip and turned to Bai with a haughty toss of her head.

  “Why are you angry, Bai? I thought you liked knowing that every man in the room envied you, wished that your woman belonged to them.”

  “Ah, cherie, is that why you tempt them? Taunt them? To rub their nose in the truth that they cannot have you? Is that why you let the top of your dress slip ever so slightly?”

  “For God’s sake, Bai, you bought this dress for me.”

  “Mais oui, so I did. But did I tell you to wear a silk chemise that emphasizes rather than conceals your lush curves? Did I tell you to bend over in such a way that every man at the table had a tantalizing glimpse of your beautiful breasts? Did you want them to think about your nipples? Wonder if they are hard or soft? Pink or rosy? Is that why you do those tempting things that you do so well, cherie? To tease, taunt?”

  Elena knew at some level Bai was correct. She was a bit of a tease. She had always loved to flirt. All her life men looked at her the way they did tonight. Damnit, it was flattering. She decided to take Bai on. They were married, for God’s sake. He was going to have to get used to men reacting the way they did. Look at how he reacted to her body.

  She gave a little shrug and said, “It’s not my fault that men find me beautiful, Bai. You’ve told me often enough that I am.”

  Bai leaned back further in his chair and, though he appeared relaxed, Elena felt her stomach clench. She had seen that look in his eyes many times; it was sultry, hot, threatening. It made her feel small, helpless, like a field mouse frozen in place, watching a grinning cat casually licking its paws preparing to pounce. She took a large swallow of brandy, hoping the burn in her gut would give her courage.

  Bai watched her for another moment and then his eyes narrowed ominously.

  “Take off your dress, cherie.”

  She hesitated then leaned back against the cabinet and swallowed hard when his eyes blazed.

  “Now.”

  She waited for another moment, then with a nonchalant toss of her head reached behind her and unbuttoned her dress. She let it slip to the floor, then stepped out of it and kicked it aside, taking a casual sip of her brandy.

  Bai took a long drag off his cigar and blew the smoke up in the air. He raked his eyes over her scanty underwear: her silky revealing chemise and matching French drawers. She shivered when he focused on the bare skin on her thighs above the lacy garters holding up her sheer silk stockings, then let his eyes drift down her legs to land on her indigo high heeled slippers. She took another sip of brandy and forced herself to meet his eyes, trying to ignore his sardonic grin and the rush of heat in her core.

  “Show me your breasts, Elena.”

  “Ask me nicely and maybe I will.”

  Her pulse jumped and she stepped back when he slowly stood up, unwinding his long lean frame from the chair in a graceful threatening movement. He looked like a pirate with his tousled hair, his dark skin, and his gleaming eyes. All he needed was an eye patch to be thoroughly intimidating. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his body, his taut muscular arms, hard chest, and strong thighs. Her groin clenched and, to her dismay, she felt a flood of moisture between her legs.

  He looked at her for a long moment. A smile that didn’t reach his hard eyes curled his lips. He ground out his cigar in the ashtray on the table then picked up the riding crop next to his chair. He held the carved handle in one hand and with the other casually stroked the leather striking strips.

  Elena gasped, startled. She stared at the wicked looking crop, took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the cabinet trying to cover her fear—and her excitement.

  “I…I didn’t know…I wasn’t aware the wicked warlord was here.”

  “Mais, oui, cherie. He most certainly is here and from what I can tell, he is as displeased with his petite puta as I am.”

  His voice dropped to a soft whisper.

  “May I assume you didn’t hear my request, cherie?”

  She bit her lip and looked down.

  “Non? In that case I will say it again. Show me your breasts.”

  Elena tried to ignore the shivery need washing over her. She knew she was asking for trouble, but she was annoyed by his blatant attempt to frighten her and frustrated by her body’s wanton response to his erotic commands. She hesitated, then shook her head no.

  Bai’s smile tightened and he took a step toward her, slapping the end of the crop against his palm as he approached.

  “Elena, I don’t want to tear another of your lovely chemises. Be a good girl and take off that enticing bit of lace and – for the last time – show me your breasts.”

  Elena snapped, “Fine, damnit!”

  She defiantly ripped the chemise down the middle and tossed it on the floor. She resisted the impulse to cover her breasts, instead glared at him, her chest rising and falling in angry pants. Without looking down at her breasts, she knew from Bai’s grin that her nipples were already peaking.

  “Ah, mon petite putain is angry? Angry but also aroused, mais oui, amour?”

  He reached out and ran the end of the crop over one hardened nipple and then the other. He chuckled softly when she gasped and tried to cover her breasts.

  “Non, non, petite putain. Hands at your sides. Now.”

  Elena felt her anger rise. She dropped her hands, holding her fists tight against her thighs, then glared at him, daring him to touch her.

  He smiled and shook his head as if amused by her response.

  “That’s a good girl, cherie. I like your hard, pointed nipples. They remind me of how they feel on my tongue, my teeth when I lick them, bite them, and suck on them.”

  His grin widened when her nipples tightened more and she flushed trying to keep her faithless body from responding to his provocative words.

  “Now, cherie, show me your pussy.”

  “Bai, stop!”

  “Stop, cherie? Why
ever would I do that?”

  He reached out and tucked the end of the crop under her chin and lifted her face to his. His voice hardened and the lines by his eyes tightened.

  “Je le répète. I repeat. Show me your pussy. I want to see it.

  “ Now, cherie.”

  Elena stepped back and tried to squelch the angry tears in her eyes. Her lips hurt from biting on them. With a defiant toss of her head, she reached down to drag off her drawers, taking her stockings with them

  “Non, non, petite fille. Leave your stockings on and those sexy shoes. Just your drawers. That’s the way. See how obedient you can be? And now, cherie, lean back and open your sweet little cunt for me.”

  Elena gasped in shock, then gathering her pride and her anger tight around her she shook her head no.

  “What’s the matter, cherie? You don’t want me to see how aroused you are? Hot and wet, my jolie petite puta?”

  Bai reached out with the crop and slid the handle between her soft outer folds. He ignored her startled gasp and attempt to squeeze her legs together. Without taking his eyes off of her, he brought the crop back to his mouth and licked the creamy moisture off the end.

  His voice was thick, taunting.

  “Mm hmm. Ah, mon amour. So wet, so soon. I haven’t even touched you, yet your pretty little pussy is dripping wet.”

  Elena tried to hide her embarrassment, furious at her body’s betrayal. She was determined to take control of the situation. She couldn’t allow Bai to torment her like this. She crammed her thighs together and did what she could to keep her nipples from hardening more.

  She thrust out her chin, trying to ignore the sultry gleam in his eyes, the knowing smirk on his lips and said in as dismissive a voice as she could, “If I had known the wicked warlord was going to be here, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay tonight.”