A Talent for Trouble (27 page)

“I told him I did use the front door, although I'm not certain he believed me since he found me already at the top of the stairs. However, I convinced him I'd been sent to deal with you, and without a blink of an eye, he allowed me to continue.” Mr. Blackheart's lips twitched just a touch. “I think the poor man believes you're deranged.”

The world, it seemed, was turning more peculiar by the moment.

“Tell me, what are you looking for?”

Felicia blew out a frustrated breath. “A safe, one that Grayson told me was behind a picture of an unattractive lady.”

“It'll be in his bedroom.” Mr. Blackheart motioned her forward. “Lead the way.”

Felicia straightened her spine. “I certainly don't know where that is located.”

Mr. Blackheart's lips twitched once again, and then he nodded and strode forward, checking one room after another as Felicia told him all she knew about Grayson's capture.

“Here it is,” Mr. Blackheart said, walking into a room decorated with masculine furniture but without a smidgen of style. He moved over to a painting of a large woman holding a bowl of fruit, swung it open, and nodded to Felicia. “What's the combination?”

Felicia pulled out the small piece of paper she'd shoved into her glove and read it off, holding her breath as Mr. Blackheart
spun the dial, then spun it again in the opposite direction, then back again. He tried spinning it different ways for a full minute, then held out his hand. “Let me see those numbers.”

Felicia handed him the paper and watched Mr. Blackheart read it, his lips mouthing the numbers. Then he looked up and shook his head. “He gave you the wrong combination.”

“What?”

“You heard me, but I bet he did so to protect you.”

Temper was swift. “I'm going to . . . Well, I don't know what I'm going to do when I see him, but . . . Now what are we going to do?”

Mr. Blackheart looked around and then, to Felicia's annoyance, smiled.

“There is nothing amusing about this, and you never smile. Why are you smiling now?”

“Because Grayson is only renting this house, and the furnishings, while nice, aren't made of the most expensive materials, which means, neither is this safe.” He walked over to where a pitcher of water and a glass rested on a table, picked up the glass, and then moved back to the safe.

“You know how to crack safes?”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Stop talking.”

The man might have smiled earlier, but it was clear he'd rapidly returned to his normal grouchy self.

Felicia fidgeted as Mr. Blackheart placed the glass to his ear and then to the safe, and began slowly turning the dial. Fear settled over her as the minutes ticked away.

Would Francisco let Grayson and Ming go if she was able to deliver the jewels, or was the man just playing a cruel joke? Did he and whomever he was working with want something beside the jewels—something she thought Francisco might have hinted at?

“Got it.”

Felicia watched as Mr. Blackheart swung open the door of the safe, extracted a fairly large black case, and then turned. “We should make sure the jewels are in here.” He walked over to the bed, set down the case, opened it, and drew in a sharp breath. Felicia couldn't say she blamed him. Rubies, diamonds, and what looked like a tiara encrusted with priceless gems winked back at her from the case.

“I guess I understand Francisco's incentive to cross an ocean,” Mr. Blackheart muttered. “But now, how to proceed?”

“We wait for instructions, and then I take these to wherever they want.”

“I've been paid to protect you, Miss Murdock, not watch you place yourself in danger.”

“I won't let Grayson and Ming die.”

“I'll make the delivery.”

A loud cough had Felicia and Mr. Blackheart spinning around. Grayson's butler was standing in the doorway, looking more confused than ever and holding a slip of paper in his hand. “I've been instructed, by two Chinese men who spoke only limited English, to give this to the young lady who burst into the house.”

Mr. Blackheart walked to the butler's side, pried the piece of paper out of his hand, and read it. “They want you to take the . . . case to the docks. Someone will meet you there.”

The butler coughed again. “Should I mention that those men are waiting on the front stoop?”

Felicia's nerves began to jingle. “Well, there's nothing to do but go through with this.”

“I can't allow that,” Mr. Blackheart growled.

“You can follow me. I know perfectly well you'll keep me safe.”

Mr. Blackheart looked at her for a long minute, then reached into his jacket, pulled out a gun, and pressed it into her hand. “Can you shoot?”

“About as well as I can drive.”

“God help us all, then.”

Felicia made Mr. Blackheart and the butler turn around before she lifted her skirt, looked around for a place to stash the pistol, and finally settled for shoving it underneath her garter. She wasn't certain her garter was up for the task of holding it for long, and if it did fall off, she could only hope she wouldn't shoot herself in the process.

She shoved her skirts back into place, squared her shoulders, and released a breath. “I'm ready.”

Mr. Blackheart caught her eye. “I'll be behind you, although I'll have to keep out of sight.” He moved closer to her and surprised her by taking her hand. “You're a lady of faith, Miss Murdock. Don't forget that, and remember, no matter that you'll be driving the phaeton alone, God will be sitting right next to you. Draw courage from that.”

Felicia smiled ever so slightly and headed for the door, realizing that Mr. Blackheart was exactly right and that God, in His way, would show her what to do.

T
he minutes kept ticking away, and with each tick, Francisco seemed to become more agitated.

What would he do when he discovered Felicia was not coming back?

Surely she would have discovered she couldn't get into his safe by now, and surely someone, hopefully Theodore and Mr. Blackheart, had taken note of her making off with his phaeton, realized something was amiss, and would be protecting her from the men Francisco had sent to follow her.

“Your ladylove is dragging her feet.”

“So it would seem.” Grayson settled Ming more comfortably against him, relieved to discover that even amidst the mayhem they were now in, the little girl had fallen asleep. “You said you didn't track me down simply for the jewels but also for Ming. May I assume you intend to use her in some manner to take over where the Wus left off?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Ming's a baby, and she's not the heir to the Wu fortune.”

Now they were finally getting somewhere. “So . . . you need me more than Ming?”

Francisco frowned. “I'm not certain I'm following you.”

“Am I the heir—being the surviving husband of the eldest daughter?”

Francisco looked at him, his eyes widened, and then he laughed. “Of course you're not the heir, you idiot. Really, Grayson, did you ever understand the Chinese at all? They wouldn't tolerate a white man running one of their most lucrative businesses.”

Confusion was immediate. “I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage then, Francisco. If I'm not the heir, and Ming's not the heir, why were we not killed along with the rest?”

“You are still alive because I hoped, as did my new employers, that you would be willing to join us as we combined both families' resources and created the strongest opium network in the world. The Zang family was quite impressed with your abilities to secure trade routes. I convinced them you would be only too willing—for a substantial fee, of course—to lend those abilities to their organization. To my dismay though, you did the unthinkable and fled China, taking Ming and the jewels.”

“You're not intending to kill Ming, are you?”

“Of course not. Ming's just a child, and she's the reason I've been promised a rather nice reward.”

“I'm afraid I don't—”

The cabin door opened and two men entered, causing Francisco to scowl at them, his scowl turning to a look of disbelief when . . . Felicia followed the men, carrying the case filled with jewels in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Grayson felt the urge to shake her and kiss her all in the same breath.

“Hello,” Felicia said with a smile as she sauntered into the room. “I've got the jewels, and a pistol, as you can see, and just
so everyone understands, my mother makes the claim that I'm entirely too proficient when it comes to the matter of shooting.”

The urge to kiss her overtook the urge to shake her. She was smiling in an entirely too confident manner, but her eyes were blazing, and it was apparent, at least to him, that she was furious. All he could do was hope she wouldn't start shooting, because who knew what she'd hit.

“Now then,” Felicia said briskly as she dropped the case to the floor, “since you're getting the jewels—they are quite extraordinary, I might add—I think it only fair that you allow me, Grayson, and Ming to leave.”

Francisco narrowed his eyes. “Grayson can leave, but not Ming.”

“I'm afraid that's not acceptable.”

“I'm afraid it's nonnegotiable,” Francisco countered before he raised a hand that had been hanging at his side and pointed the pistol clutched in that hand directly at Grayson. “I'll shoot him. I've already told him that the only reason he was kept alive when the Wu family was killed was to have him help my new business associates secure trade routes. Since it's become abundantly clear Grayson no longer considers me a friend, has no interest in working with us, and is actually appalled that I was the one behind the Wu family's destruction, he's of no use to me anymore.”

To his surprise, not only did Felicia not lower her pistol, she laughed. “You can't shoot Grayson while Ming's on his lap. You could miss and hit her, and since it's
abundantly
clear you've traveled all this way not only for the jewels, but for her as well, I think you're bluffing.”

Francisco cocked the pistol, the sound loud in the room.

Before Grayson could brace himself, a scream echoed right outside the door, and then a woman rushed into the room, the sight of her causing his mouth to drop open.

“Mei,” was all he could whisper.

Ming's mother spared him not a single glance as she brushed past Felicia and began speaking in rapid Chinese, shaking her finger at Francisco, which had him uncocking his gun and putting it aside. When he'd done that, Mei slowly turned and set her sights directly on her daughter. Her eyes filled with tears, and she began speaking again in Chinese, and even though Grayson didn't understand the language, he understood all too well what she wanted.

He looked down and found Ming's eyes open, her attention firmly fixed on Mei.

What was he supposed to do?

Ming surely wouldn't recognize her mother. She'd only been two when they'd fled China, but Mei
was
her mother, which meant . . .

“Hand Ming over,” Francisco said.

Mei held out her arms.

“She's Ming's mother?” Felicia asked.

Grayson nodded.

“I thought she was dead.”

“Just like Francisco, she's not. I'm not certain how that happened, but . . .” Grayson drew in a sharp breath. “
She's
the heir to Wu Wah Hing's empire.”

Mei said something else, this time with a distinct note of pleading in her voice. Grayson was helpless against that plea. He leaned his head forward, pressed his lips against Ming's hair, and turned her on his lap so she faced him. “Ming, I want you to meet someone, someone you knew a long time ago, your mama.”

Ming looked up at him and scowled. “Mama?”

“Yes.”

He glanced to the door as a well-dressed Chinese man strode through it. The man came to an abrupt halt as his eyes went immediately to Ming.

“And there's your papa,” Francisco said, causing silence to descend on the room.

“What? I thought you were Ming's father,” Felicia said slowly.

“No, I'm not, nor was I even married to Mei—our marriages were, in fact, much the same, Gray. This is the eldest Zang son, Zang Chao. He and Mei secretly married before we arrived in China. Since I picked up Chinese rather easily, I was able to understand her when, right after she learned her father was insisting she marry me, she told me she was already married. She offered me a significant amount of money to go through with a farce of a wedding ceremony and to keep their secret.”

He released a breath. “Unfortunately, Wu Wah Hing discovered the truth and believed his daughter and I had dishonored him. When I learned there was a price on my head—as well as on Mei's and Ming's—I went about destroying every other Wu.”

Grayson held Ming a little tighter as a wave of revulsion swept through him. “Mei didn't mind that you ordered that her sister be killed?”

Francisco shrugged. “Mei thinks I arranged for Lin to be saved too. She believes her sister's death was an accident—just like it was an accident we lost Ming for a while. Ming was supposed to be smuggled out of the main house by a servant, but that servant was caught, and we thought Ming had been killed, until we started receiving reports about you leaving China with a small child.” He nodded to Mei. “She promised me I could have the jewels you took if I helped her and her husband locate their daughter.” He turned to survey all in the room. “Mission accomplished, I would have to say.”

Mei began speaking again, more rapidly than before.

“She wants to hold her daughter, Grayson, and as she is the child's mother, it is her right.”

“Tell her I'm concerned for Ming's future—the opium trade is a dangerous world.”

Francisco rolled his eyes but turned to Mei and spoke. Whatever he said caused Mei and her husband to shake their heads and start shouting things at Francisco. He held up his hand and the shouting stopped.

“Mei says she's done with the family business, as is her husband, because that business caused the death of her beloved sister. They want me to assure you that after returning to China, they will be taking Ming to live far away from the opium world.”

“Down,” Ming suddenly demanded.

“I don't think that's a good idea, darling.”

“Down.”

Grayson's hold instinctively tightened on the little girl as she began to squirm. He glanced up and caught Felicia's eye, and she nodded ever so slightly, even though her expression was decidedly wary. He drew in a breath, slowly released it, and helped Ming scoot off his lap. His vision blurred, and he wanted to pull her back into the safety of his arms, but the minute her feet hit the ground, she twisted out of his hold and scampered across the space that separated her from her mother. She stopped directly in front of Mei and tipped back her head.

“Mama?”

Tears coursed down Mei's face as she bent down and cupped her daughter's chin in her hand.

The next second, Ming was wrapped in her mother's embrace, with her father's arms around both of them, all of them crying—crying in a way that couldn't help but warm Grayson's heart, even though it ached at the same time.

Felicia let out a sniff, wiped her eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the pistol, and nodded to him. “I think it might be best for everyone if we were to get on our way.”

Grayson simply stood there for a moment as everything he'd learned in the past couple hours whirled around his mind.

Quite a few things he'd believed regarding his past had
changed, most importantly, the belief he'd been carrying around that he'd been responsible for the murder of his Chinese family.

“Grayson, are you all right?”

He turned to Felicia and opened his mouth but shut it as his gaze drifted down and he saw that the hand she was using to hold the pistol had begun to shake. Striding to her side, he took the pistol and smiled. “I'll be fine.” He nodded to Francisco. “Was there anything else you needed to say before we take our leave?”

“Do you really think we're free to go?” Felicia asked before Francisco could respond.

“Yes,” Mr. Blackheart said as he burst into the room, “Miss Murdock, you're definitely free to go.” Theodore, Zayne, and Hamilton followed right behind, all of them armed, and all of them looking rather lethal.

Grayson smiled. “Gentlemen, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Theodore returned the smile. “I'm sure you are, and just so you know, the police are here as well. They're waiting on the docks for my signal to board.”

“They have no reason to board this ship,” Francisco snapped. “We've done nothing wrong, and Grayson I were just finishing up a business deal.”

“Kidnapping is a serious offense, and . . .” Theodore gestured to the case. “Mr. Blackheart told me you forced Felicia to bring that case filled with jewels in order to keep Grayson and Ming alive, so you're looking at attempted theft as well.”

Grayson shook his head. “The jewels are Mei's to do with as she wishes.”

“Who is Mei?” Zayne asked, looking confused.

“Ming's mother,” Grayson said with a nod toward Mei, who was clutching Ming tightly against her as her husband stood in front of them, obviously trying to protect them.

“I thought Ming's mother was dead,” Theodore said.

“Yes, well, so did I, but clearly she is not.”

Francisco rubbed his hands together as he walked over to the case of jewels, bent over, and picked it up. He released a hearty laugh. “Since everything is wrapping up so nicely, and since it should now be clear that I'm not a jewel thief, I'll just take my prize out and leave all of you to conclude your business.”

“Wait.”

Grayson, along with everyone else, turned to stare at Mei, who handed Ming to her husband before she stepped forward.

Francisco was standing stock-still, his face turning deathly white as he clutched the case of jewels against his chest. “You speak English?”

Mei smiled a smile that was less than amused. “Enough to understand.”

Sweat began to immediately dribble down Francisco's cheek. “Understand what?”

Mei moved up beside him and tilted her chin. “You kill Lin.”

“It was an accident.”

Mei shook her head. “No. For that, you pay.”

“You promised me a reward if I got Ming back for you.”

Mei's smile turned downright frightening. “You not die. That be your reward. But you pay for my sister's death.”

She shouted something in Chinese that turned Francisco white as a sheet, and before anyone had a chance to move, two Chinese men—one of them the man with the scar Grayson had recognized in the pub—entered the room. Theodore and Mr. Blackheart shifted and repositioned their guns but made no other move. The Chinese men took Francisco by the arms and, without a single word, pulled him through the doorway, his protests drifting back into the room.