The Frenchman's Revenge (55 page)

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

“My u
nderstanding is that you share with
the
g
overnor
.”

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

“The
only way I
became
Wyatt’s
apprentice
was to become a
k
ung
f
u 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 way
s
to go
,
Mick
.”

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

“
Understand, Rory.
In th
e
years
following that
apprenticeship
,
the apprentice has become the master
. F
or 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 can
na
tell me,
g
ov
ner’
there
ain’t
Irish blood
flowin’
in th
at sweet
little
lass
!”

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

“
Tell you what, Rory, i
f
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
t
he 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
. F
rom everything I hear, he and Wyatt McManus are the only ones who come close to
t
he 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
t
he 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,
Mo
ther 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
. A
t heart
,
he l
iked
a good story as much as he l
iked
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
t
he 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 s
w
illed
,
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
t
hen
, 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
G
randm
a
O
’Reilly’s
virginity
,
my fi
ngers weren’t two inches above her head when out of
nowhere a knife comes flying across the room and pin
s
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 godd
amn cigarette when he threw
th
at
knife
twenty feet and pinned me to the wall.
”

Patrick
and
M
ike 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
be
u- ti- ful little
lass
…
reaches
up to take the knife out of my sleeve and
twists it,
cut
s
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
blood
y
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
w
ouldn’t do to him. Sweet
Jesus
,
just imagining it is
enough
to make my prick stand at attention
,
leakin
’
like a sieve
.”