The Frenchman's Woman

by Lee Taylor

  Bai’s jaw clenched. What the hell was wrong with Elena? She knew she wasn’t supposed to go off by herself. He and Nianzu had run into several outlaw gangs on their way to the compound. Although they were not as dangerous as the Tongs, they could cause a lot of trouble for a young girl alone. He went to the stable and saddled his stallion, Noire. Heading out of the barn, he called back to an anxious looking Mansu. “Mansu, please go to the big house and tell Mr. Wan that I went to find Miss Elena. We should be back within the hour. Go, now.” Bai’s tone was sharp.

  Mansu rushed to obey. Bai saw Mansu’s concern at his abrupt order. Bai enjoyed a respectful relationship with the servants, but he expected obedience and never hesitated to make his displeasure known. The result was that most of the servants feared him, or at least were careful to do what he asked quickly and without question.

  Urging Noire to a swift pace, Bai galloped toward the waterfall, a good thirty minutes from the villa. Wan’s sprawling compound was nestled in the California high desert. Scrub covered mesas, rocky canyons, and breathtaking views of the distant Sierras never failed to stoke Bai’s spirit. But, concerned about Elena, he was blind to the call of the desert. Even the brilliant blue skies and wide open spaces didn’t distract from his mission.

  The longer he rode, the more annoyed Bai was with Elena. Goddamn, he hoped Wan had done the right thing bringing her to the compound. In Wyoming, he knew a cadre of Caballeros, Wyatt’s security force, was assigned to guard Elena. She lived all her life protected by guards. Merde. She must know she needed them here. Now, three days after she arrived at the compound, she left by herself, against her grandfather’s direct orders. Bai shook his head and grimaced. Wan may not have impressed upon her the importance of obeying his orders, but Bai sure as hell would.

  As he neared the waterfall, a gunshot rang out, then men’s voices hollering. Seconds later, he heard a volley of shots, followed by terrified screams. Bai’s stomach heaved.

  Damn. They were the kind of screams that young girls in trouble make.

  ~~~

  Bai got as close as he dared on horseback then signaled to Noire to stay. Climbing through the brush to the top of the ridge, he gazed at the horrific scene below.

  Bai saw Elena run for her horse. A trio of men chased after her, firing wild shots. They just missed her and hit the mare. A fourth man lay on the ground, shrieking in pain, clutching his bloody shoulder. Bai watched Elena struggle to mount her horse then fall to the ground when the mare stumbled to a stop. Assessing the scene, he saw that three of the men were wounded, but all four still brandished guns. Bai was well armed, but the desperados surrounding Elena prevented him from getting a clean shot without hitting her. He watched in admiration as Elena took on two of the men with kung fu strikes, shaking his head when they overpowered her. He despaired that, like too many untried kung fu warriors who had done all their fighting in regulated sparring matches, Elena hadn’t been taught that some men don’t fight fair. Instead of graceful, powerful aerial kicks, cowards pull guns.

  He crouched in the bushes and watched in revulsion as they tied her hands behind her back. Seeing the pain and fear on her face, a cold surge of anger flooded every muscle of his body and tightened every nerve. Like the master warrior and leader of men that he was, he made his plans carefully, strategically, refusing to be rushed. He slid on his belly, silent as a cobra readying to strike. The bastard who had his knife to her throat had already drawn blood. Bai needed to kill at least two of them immediately. Two to one odds were a hell of a lot better than four to one. Merde, he thought with a disgusted grimace, given his expertise and their stupidity, no matter how many there were, he had the advantage.

  Bai’s jaw tightened when the men dropped their pants and tore off her riding britches. He shuddered when they stripped her, except for her drawers, and her torn camisole plastered against her breasts. Listening to the shit they were saying, he didn’t know if in his lifetime he would forget the terror he saw in Elena’s eyes as they prepared to rape her. As depraved as it was, their lascivious focus on her nearly naked body saved her life. It gave him the opening he needed.

  When the pervert ripped her drawers and spread her legs, Bai sucked in a deep breath and held it. Through the din of fury thundering in his ears, Bai heard the shameless bastard crow, “Whoopee! Hell, she is dry as a bone. I can’t tell til I git in there, but I think we might a got ourselves a little virgin cunt, Jake.”

  Jake threw his head back, roaring like the vile despicable beast he was.

  “Je-sus fuckin’ Christ! And who says God don’t love me?”

  ~~~

  “I do, for one.”

  Jake looked up to see a tall young Chinese man dressed in black standing four feet away from them. He had a pistol in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Two shots rang out. To his horror, Jake saw Pete drop to the ground, a bullet between his eyes. Sam hit the ground a second later.

  Jake stared in shock at the man who was practically standing next to him. Jesus, how the fuck could someone get this close and neither he nor Clem saw him or heard him? The fucker snuck up like an animal stalking his prey. Except that he had a goddamned gun, pointed at Jake’s face.

  The Chinese man studied Clem then said in a clipped, cultured voice, “Put the knife down.”

  Clem tightened his grip on the girl. His voice quaked, a shaky squeak. “I’ll kill ‘er if you make a move.”

  “And if you do, I will kill your friend.”

  Jake was shaking so hard he could barely speak. There was somethin’ about the man’s eyes, narrow slits with a yellow glint that made him think of a wolf. Somethin’ else hit him. From the terror on Clem’s face, he knew Clem heard it too.

  It was his goddamn voice. Jake prayed to God he was wrong. Christ, all of the Sing Leon were fierce, but the one they feared the most was Wan Chang’s lieutenant. The one they called the Frenchman.

  He was part Chink and part French. Jake wasn’t sure how. But one thing he did know was that the Frenchman was the most cunning, savage son of a bitch coming or going. He could throw a knife and hit a moving target forty feet away. Hell, he could shoot a guy dead before the fucker got his hand to his holster. Worse, he was one of them Chink fighters. Christ, just last week he kicked Seth Majors to death, after he chopped off Seth’s dick because the poor bastard raped some little Chink whore. The tales of what the Frenchman had done, the viciousness of his kills, made a man’s blood curdle. Looking at his gleaming amber eyes, Jake knew his worst nightmare was standing in front of him -- smokin’ a goddamn cigarette, for Christ’s sake!

  Clem tried to hide his fear behind bravado and answered in a too loud voice, “I’m tellin’ you, she’ll fuckin’ be dead if you move.”

  The Chinese man took a drag off his cigarette. “You kill her and I will kill him.” he added pointing to Jake. “One for one.”

  He paused, gazing at Clem, his voice soft, ominous. “And after they are both dead, I will kill you. Piece by piece, starting with that shriveled up prick cowering in your pants.”

  The man took another drag off his cigarette. He glanced from Clem’s horrified face back to Jake.

  “She dies, then you die, and then Clem dies. One, Two, Three. My only regret is that she will die in the process.”

  He glanced back at Clem. Ignoring the terrified eyes of the girl Clem held prisoner with his knife against her throat, he added, “Or…you drop the knife. And we negotiate.”

  “Goddamn you, Clem, you son of a bitch. It’s the fuckin’ Frenchman. Drop the fuckin’ knife or no tellin’ how he’ll kill us,” Jake shrieked. “Hell, we’ll make a trade. We’ll give ‘im the cunt if he’ll let us go.”

  “You heard your friend, Clem. That’s your choice. Drop the knife, we’ll negotiate. OR -- one, two, three – Bang -- all three of you are dead.”

  He took another careless drag on his cigarette, then said, “One… two… three...”

  Clem dropped the knife.

  Bai shouted, “Down, Elena!�
� then shot Jake between the eyes.

  As Jake crumpled to the ground, Clem, his face white with shock, stared at Bai. “You…you said you’d negotiate.”

  “I did. This is how I negotiate with cowards.”

  Raising his gun, he shot Clem in the face.

  ~~

  Chapter 3

  Within seconds of the last gunshot, Elena dropped to the ground when Bai yelled her name. Her arms tied tight behind her back, she smashed the side of her head against the ground. Bai rushed to her side, cutting the rope around her wrists with a knife that came from nowhere. She cried out in pain when he rubbed her arms and wrists to get the feeling back. He kicked Clem’s body out of the way, picked her up, then held her close. He whistled softly. In seconds, Noire, was beside them.

  “It is okay, Elena. You are safe, cherie. It is me, Bai. Do you remember me, petite fille? You are safe now.”

  He grabbed the extra blanket from behind Noire’s saddle and wrapped it around her. She was shaking, her body a slender trembling reed. Her face was so pale he thought she might faint.

  “Can you stand?”

  She nodded, her face ragged with fear.

  “We have to leave, immediately, mon ami. There may be more of their asshole buddies who heard the shots. Here, petite fille, I will give you my shirt. This blanket isn’t enough to keep you covered.”

  He took off his shirt and put it on her mostly naked body, leaving the torn camisole that barely covered her breasts. He buttoned the shirt, and pulled it down to her knees.

  He grinned. “We’ll start a new fashion with this, cherie. Lei will be impressed, oui?”

  Elena stared at him, blankly trying to focus on what he was saying. When she first heard him speak, she knew his voice from her childhood. She remembered the young man who rode with her grandfather, the man her father called a hero. She loved his voice then. It sounded soft, foreign, like he was from another country.

  He started to lift her up on his horse, but she jerked out of his arms.

  “No, don’t,” she cried out, her voice shaking. “Stop. I have to get my horse.”

  “Elena, your mare was shot. She is badly injured. You cannot ride her. You need to get on my horse. Now. We must leave. We are still in danger, cherie.”

  He reached out to pick her up, but she twisted away, darting to her horse. Magic stood in the puddle of blood dripping from the wounds in her chest and leg. Shallow breaths strained against her chest. Shocked at the pain in Magic’s eyes, Elena reached out to touch her, comfort her.

  She turned to see Bai coming after her leading his horse, a determined look on his face. She shook her head, backing away from him.

  “Please, please! You don’t understand. I can help her. I’m sure I can help her.” She was frantic. She had to make him understand. She couldn’t leave Magic.

  Bai’s voice was firm, unyielding. “We will send someone for her, Elena. Listen to me, cherie. We need to leave here. Now!”

  “NO! I won’t leave her. I won’t!” She screamed at him, her face wracked with grief.

  Bai stepped forward. He gripped the sorrel’s head between his hands murmuring soft words under his breath. He stroked the mare’s forelock, then gliding his hand over her heaving chest, he shook his head. Seeing the verdict in his eyes, Elena shoved him furiously aside. Sobbing in anguish, she threw her arms around Magic’s neck and clutched her tight.

  Bai muttered a curse under his breath. His eyes flashed. Before Elena could stop him, he grabbed her and threw her up on his horse. He climbed up behind her, constraining her easily with one strong arm. He jerked Noire’s reins with the other hand, signaling him to go. As he came up beside the sorrel, Bai pulled his pistol and shot her three times between the eyes. Magic stumbled back. With a loud wheeze, the air left her body. She fell to the ground with a frightening crash.

  Elena shrieked at the hideous sound. She twisted up against Bai, fighting him as fiercely as she had fought the outlaws.

  She screamed over and over, “You killed Magic, you killed Magic. You murderer!”

  Elena fought him wildly, yelling that they had to go back, she couldn’t leave her horse. Bai held her firmly. Urging Noire to a hard gallop, they rode away from the waterfall, away from Magic. Elena writhed against him, kicking, biting, and scratching. But his arms were a rigid, steely vise. She couldn’t break his lock. No matter how hard she fought, he just gripped her tighter. After several minutes, he slowed his horse to a walk, then stopped, dismounted, and lifted her off Noire. She struggled fiercely, trying to push him away, but he wrapped his arms around her, trapping her against his bare chest. She felt his big hands rubbing her back, heard him murmuring to her in a mix of English, French, and Chinese. Bursting in tears, she heaved against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “It is okay, petite fille. You are safe now, Elena. I will protect you. They can not hurt you, cherie. You are with me now. ”

  They stayed like that for several long minutes, until her sobs began to quiet. Elena pressed against him. She wanted his strong arms around her. She needed the comfort of his hard body. He looked slim, lean, when he confronted the bad men. Now without his shirt, she could see the knotted abs, the tight coiled muscles on his chest and arms. She remembered from years ago, that like her father, Bai was a kung fu grandmaster. His body was a lethal weapon. As angry as she was, she wanted him to hold her -- not let her go. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his strong, clean, male smell. With a shuddering sigh, she gave in to the comfort of his strength.

  Bai held her in his arms, murmuring softly. His lips traced the whorl of her ear. “I have you now, Elena. You are with me. They cannot hurt you, non, non. When I have you, cherie, no one can hurt you.”

  Once her sobs quieted to little more than watery gulps of air, Bai lifted her up on Noire. Swinging his leg with an easy motion, he climbed up behind her.

  “Here, little girl, petite fille. Put your head on my shoulder. Let me hold you.”

  He laid her head against his shoulder, brushing the fiery mane of sun-kissed curls off her face. He wiped the sweat and blood off her face and neck with his bandana, trying to avoid the myriad of scrapes and bruises ravaging her body. Even with his careful ministrations, she winced in pain.

  When he shifted in the saddle, her shirt rode up, exposing her bare bottom. The curve of pale, satiny skin beckoned him, but he resisted the urge to indulge. Sliding one hand under her naked thighs, with the other he smoothed the shirt over her tempting curves. Marveling at his restraint, he drew her close to him. He smelled the fear radiating from her, mixed with the odor of fragrant soap. She had an underlying spicy exotic smell he couldn’t place. She twisted her head against him, baring the long pale column of her neck. Her skin was soft, the pulse in her throat pounded anxiously.

  When she nestled against him, a trickle of sweat ran to the valley between her breasts, hidden beneath his shirt. He wasn’t surprised to feel his cock swell. Christ, he had been killing evil men since he was sixteen years old. He learned early the relationship between arousal and battle. Merde, you didn’t want to be around a band of men on a lethal mission. Adrenalin and testosterone were as related as lightening and thunder. In his experience, the brutality of the kill was the best harbinger of how big the storm would be.

  Mon Dieu, he admonished himself, ogling the frightened, half naked girl in his arms. The last thing he should be thinking about is sex. Hmm. Tell that to his cock. He had an urge to taste her, to run his tongue along her beautiful neck, follow the dampness to the top of her shirt, and below. Lick off the sweat, the fear. He rubbed off a drop of the sweaty moisture, smiling when he sucked it from his thumb. Ah, mais oui. She tasted like she smelled. Spicy, exotic, warm and frightened.

  Her breath was raspy. Occasional sobs shook her body. She moaned and grabbed at Bai’s chest as if she was afraid he would somehow disappear. She whispered, “Please, please. Don’t let me go.” She dug her fingernails into his hard chest, then flushed and jerked her hands a
way.

  He reached down and put his big hand over hers, clasping them tight against him. “Non, non. It is okay, cherie. You may hold me as tightly as you need to. I am here. I will not let you go.”

  She buried her head on his shoulder, then with a sigh, wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to the strength, the heat of his body. He held her close, prodding Noire to an easy canter, trying not to jar the injured girl.

  As they neared the villa, a group of riders led by Nianzu galloped toward them. With a clatter of hoof beats, they pulled up, staring in horror at the wounded girl in Bai’s arms. Their horses reared back as they formed a circle around Bai.

  “Goddamn, Bai. What happened? Who was it? ” Nianzu’s handsome face was rigid, his voice harsh with concern.

  “They looked like the Dunwoody gang. Four of them – up at the waterfall. You men,” he said, turning to the group with Nianzu, “Go to the waterfall. There are four bodies. Bring them back. We’ll get the sheriff to identify them. Her horse is there, too.” He nodded to Elena and shook his head no and added, “Later.”

  “You killed them, Bai? All of them?” Quitin was the youngest of his men. His eyes glowed with amazed hero worship.

  Bai lifted an eyebrow and nodded, his lips curling slightly.

  Nianzu met his gaze, unspoken questions creasing his brow. “Christ, Bai, is she all right?

  Bai’s voice was grim. “From what I can tell, she has no broken bones, but I don’t know the extent of her injuries. Nianzu, go to the villa as quickly as you can. Tell Wan she’s hurt but she’ll recover. Go to the infirmary. Get Dr. Wong. Meet me at the villa. Go, Nianzu. Go now.”