Julie’s heart began a rapid tattoo. He was too close. She could smell the citrus-and-sandalwood scent of his shaving soap. It mingled with the smell of the liquor, tickling her nose, imploring her to investigate. He was holding her too closely. She could feel his breath on her neck and the shell of her ear, feel the heat of his body as he gripped her below her bosom. Having him pressed against her, having him surround her, made it hard to breathe and impossible to think of anything but pleasure. It took all the concentration she could muster to keep up with the conversation and be able to form coherent sentences. “You are the liar. I don’t care a morsel about your personal . . .”
“Passion?” he suggested. “Pleasure? Desires?”
Julie shivered in his arms as warmth spread through her. “Nature,” she squeaked in a voice that sounded nothing like hers. “My sole concern is for those poor unfortunate girls you purchased and installed on the second floor of your establishment.”
Will loosened his grip enough to slip his arm beneath her jacket. He felt the boning of her corset through the wool covering her bodice, pictured the whalebone cupping her breasts, and remembered the curves beneath the coverlet in Ah So’s bed. If she was the one who had hidden behind the barrels at the Jade Dragon, was she also the one who had raided his kitchen larder and slept beneath his roof? “How do you know where they’re installed?”
She hesitated a moment before she answered. “Everybody knows the second floor of a saloon is reserved for the girls who entertain the male customers.”
“For your information, Miss Parham, I don’t slake my passions on poor unfortunate Chinese girls.” Will didn’t know why he volunteered that bit of information. Maybe it was because he didn’t like the idea of her thinking he was a monster who bought and raped young girls and children. “I save them for willing young ladies with red hair and blue eyes. . . .”
Her legs went weak. “Oh.”
Will held her tighter, keeping her upright and against him. “Yes, ‘oh,’” he murmured.
Caught up in Will’s presence, Julie found it nearly impossible to think of anything except the feel of Will Keegan surrounding her—the way she felt in his arms. Until she met him, she’d never engaged in any manner of verbal sparring with a member of the opposite sex. But something about him spurred her on. Something about Will Keegan intrigued her. Excited her. He was big and handsome and nearly twice her size. He was unscrupulous and a trafficker in human flesh. She should be terrified. But she wasn’t terrified. She was exhilarated and fascinated and thrilled. And she discovered she liked playing with fire—as long as he was holding the torch. As strange as it seemed, when she was with him, Julie felt safe and reckless, and entirely secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t allow her to get burned. “You bought them for someone’s pleasure,” she accused. “If not your own.”
Will didn’t like the idea of her not believing him any more than he liked the idea of her thinking he was a lecher. “Did it ever occur to you that I bought them in order to give them better lives than the ones they would have with Madam Harpy? Did it ever occur to you that I bought them to keep other men from buying them?”
Julie was ashamed to admit that the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She had done the very unmissionary, un-Christian, uncharitable thing and automatically believed the worst of him. “No. Did you?”
He nodded.
“Let me go,” she said softly.
Will hesitated.
“I promise to behave,” she added. “And not to smash anything else.”
He loosened his grip and let his arm drop to his side, then took a step backward, putting the proper distance between them.
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I’m not going to slake my passions on them or strangle them in their sleep or cut their throats or sell them to anyone else,” he assured her. “I’m not going to rent them out.”
She looked up at him. “Then what?”
“I’m going to keep them safe from the people who would harm them,” he admitted.
“Why should I trust you?” she asked. “When you lied to me before.”
Will looked her in the eye. “I didn’t lie to you. There weren’t any girls upstairs.”
“Only because you hadn’t bought them yet,” she countered. “What about now? What will I find if I go up the stairs this morning? Are the rooms still empty? Were you alone up there last night?”
“I was alone in my bed last night.” His voice was low, melodic, tempting. “As you well know, since you spent the night in the bedroom down the hall from mine.”
She had spent the night in the bedroom down the hall from his last night, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Not yet. Nor would she overlook the fact that he’d chosen to evade. “You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Keegan.”
“You either trust me or you don’t, Julia Jane.”
“You bought human beings.”
“Would you rather I had left them to Madam Harpy’s tender care?” he asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Then you agree they’re better off today than they were last night?”
“That depends on where they are today, and with whom.”
“They’re safe from the person who would do them harm,” Will reminded her. “As are you, for the moment.”
She was clearly surprised. “Who would harm me?”
Will frowned at her, then turned to look at the damage she’d done to the grand parlor. “That depends on how many saloons you’ve smashed and how many questions you’ve asked, how many people your singing has annoyed, and how many girls you’ve tried to rescue. . . .” He paused for effect. “There could be hundreds of people in Chinatown alone.” He hoped he was exaggerating, hoped there weren’t hundreds of angry purveyors of vice out to silence Julia Jane Parham. He didn’t know whether there were more; he knew of only one. And it was only fair that he warn her.
“I haven’t smashed any saloons, done any singing, or tried to rescue any girls,” she protested.
He shot her a wry look. “All evidence to the contrary.”
Julie had the grace to blush. “Except here today.”
“I hope not,” Will said. “Because you’ve already made one powerful enemy. And believe me, this one is enough.”
“I may not believe you’re a gentleman, entirely,” Julie began, “but I don’t believe you would do me harm.”
Will gave a short laugh. “Damned with faint praise once again.”
She tried again. “I’ll pay for your window.”
“My window is the least of your concerns,” Will told her. “The gossip around Chinatown is that Madam Harpy wants to quiet your singing.”
Julie pretended to misunderstand his meaning. “What has that woman got against my singing?” she demanded to know. “And who is she to criticize? She’s got a voice like a screech owl.”
“She doesn’t like the song you sing. And she doesn’t like the questions you ask.”
Julie pulled herself up to her full height and began brushing the bits of glass from her cape and from her dress. “As you pointed out, this is the United States. Free speech is a right guaranteed by the Constitution.”
“In theory, yes. In reality, no,” he said. “It may be in San Francisco, but Chinatown isn’t the United States. Not yet.”
Reaching over, Julie bent down to get her broken parasol. “I’ll take my chances.”
Will placed his foot on the umbrella. “Your chances aren’t very good. Not when she’s hired a professional to kill you.”
Julie felt the blood drain from her face, and her knees shook so badly she lost her balance. She would have fallen if Will hadn’t reached out to steady her. “She hired someone to kill me?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“From whom?”
Will didn’t answer.
“From whom?” she repeated. “Where did you hear this? Who told you?”
“Li Toy.”
“Dear Lord.”
Julie lost her fight to stay on her feet and sat down hard on the chair Will shoved at her. “She told you she hired someone to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You either trust me or you don’t.”
“I don’t mean you,” Julie said. “I mean the situation. If she admitted to you that she hired someone to kill me, it should be a simple matter of going to the police, telling them what you told me, and letting them take care of it.”
Will didn’t mince words. “The police intend to take care of it. They intend to take care of you for Madam Harpy. At least, one of them does.”
“The police?” Her teeth began to chatter.
Will walked to the bar, stepped over the broken glass and puddle of whiskey on the floor beside it, and grabbed a clean glass and a bottle of brandy from the row of bottles in front of the mirror. He poured a measure of brandy into the glass and carried it back to Julie. “Here,” he said, pressing the glass against her lips, “drink this.”
She drained the glass, coughing and sputtering as the liquor burned a path from her mouth to her stomach.
“Better?” he asked when her coughing subsided and color returned to her face.
“Yes, thank you.” Julie’s voice was very small, her words very polite as she looked up at him. “Do you know who?”
Will shook his head. “It could be anyone.”
“I can’t believe a policeman would . . .”
“Agree to eliminate a problem for a notorious madam?” Will finished her thought. “And accept payment for doing so? By now, you must realize this city is filled with corrupt police, politicians, and city officials . . .” Will told her. “Get out of San Francisco. Go home. Madam Harpy’s reach is long, but if you leave here and lie low, if you stop asking questions and stop poking your nose into other people’s affairs, there’s a chance Li Toy might call off her dog and forget about you.”
“I can’t. I can’t go home. Not yet. Not until I’ve done what I came here to do.” She looked up at Will.
He read the trepidation in her eyes. She was afraid, but not for herself. Her fear was for someone or something else. Will wanted to shake her. Or take her in his arms and keep her there until he knew she was safe. “Is what you’re trying to do worth your life?”
Julie handed Will her glass, then pushed to her feet. “Is what you’re doing worth your immortal soul?”
“Touché.” He acknowledged her point. “But our odds are different. My risk is minimal. I lost my soul a long time ago.”
“I believe in redemption,” Julie said. “I’m a Salvationist.”
“You may be one of them,” he conceded. “You may be the best of them. But being a Salvationist doesn’t mean they’ll protect you.”
She turned and walked back across the broken glass and through the empty windowframe. “They don’t have to, Mr. Keegan.” Julie managed a tremulous smile. “I can take care of myself.”
Chapter Twelve
“Faith in oneself is the best and safest course.”
—MICHELANGELO, 1475–1564
What a mess! Who would think one little lady could do so much damage with a frilly little umbrella?”
Will turned from the front window to find Jack O’Brien behind the bar. “I would. Now that I’ve seen Typhoon Julia in action.”
Jack laughed at the appellation. “Typhoon Julia?”
Will glared at him. “Or its near equivalent. Where the devil were you? And how did you get in here without my hearing you?”
“I was coming up from the wine cellar when I heard glass breaking.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Call me a coward, but I decided to wait until the firestorm ended before I put in an appearance. I wasn’t all that keen on giving her another target or adding fuel to the flame. I knew you were here and I was sure you could handle the situation.”
“That makes one of us,” Will replied, although if truth be told, he had handled the situation and enjoyed every minute of it. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to catch Miss Parham’s exit through what’s left of our window.”
Will arched an eyebrow in silent query.
“You were concentrating so fully on her departure you wouldn’t have heard a brass band march into the saloon. I’m considerably quieter.” Jack smiled. “I take it she went back on her word and broke her promise to you.”
Will grinned. “Along with everything else.”
Jack let out a whistle of admiration. “She managed to put the temperance sisterhood to shame. You must be so proud. . . .”
Will welcomed Jack’s tongue-in-cheek humor. “Strangely enough I am. I’m in need of a new front window, a new place setting of Meissen china and bar glasses, liquor, and replacement crystals for the wall sconces, but it took a great deal of moral courage for her to do what she did. And I find that quality in a woman quite admirable.”
“From what I’ve seen, Miss Parham is a young lady to be admired,” Jack agreed. “She’s a lot stronger than she looks, and she has a devil of a redhead’s temper.” Grabbing a broom and a dustpan, he began sweeping up the glass around the bar. “What set her off?”
“The fact that we have upstairs guests.”
“That would do it.” Jack bent down and began to pick up the largest pieces of the broken bottle and the bar glasses. “She is a Salvationist, after all. ’Tis a crying shame about the whiskey, though.” His brogue was strong, and his inflection made it seem as if the loss of the whiskey were far more serious than the purchase of the seven Chinese beauties sleeping one floor above them. Though how they could sleep through the racket Julia Jane had made was anyone’s guess.
Will laughed. “That was an accident. She was swinging for my head,” he explained as he began righting tables and chairs that had been knocked over during Julia Jane’s struggles. “The whiskey bottle got in the way.”
Jack nodded. “It’s good to know she wasn’t on a mission to destroy our store of liquor.”
“She was on a mission to destroy, and the bar was a target, but not because she believes alcohol is the devil’s brew as the temperance women do. She willingly drained the brandy I gave her when her teeth began chattering and her knees gave out,” Will elaborated. “Her mission was to smash as much glass and inflict as much interior damage to the Silken Angel as she could.”
“Glad you were able to save the bar mirror and all the display bottles, which is more than I can say about our last encounter with the Women’s Temperance League.”
“Luckily I managed to get an arm around her before she reached the bar.”
“You were taken unawares the last time glass breakers came to call. This time you knew what to expect.”
“And whom to expect,” Will admitted. “I heard her singing a block away.”
“That must have been a relief,” Jack said. “After the past few nights . . .”
Nights Will had spent searching for her after learning Li Toy had hired someone to kill her.
Will couldn’t deny it. He gave Jack a wry smile. “It was such a relief, she was brandishing her parasol outside the window before I realized what she intended.” He shook his head. “I’m amazed she was able to break the window, and I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. . . .”
“She gave you her word,” Jack reminded him. “You believed her.”
Will glanced at the damage Julia Jane had inflicted. “Imagine me trusting a missionary. . . .”
Jack laughed, well aware that Will and his two older sisters had grown up in Hong Kong with Scots-Irish Presbyterian missionary parents. He put down his broom, then walked over and clapped his boss on the shoulder. “Live and learn, boyo. Live and learn.”
Will smiled. “We’ll have to move our plans back a few hours while we take care of the debris left by Typhoon Julia.”
Jack nodded. “We’ll manage.”
“When Luis comes in, send him around to Montgomery Street Glass to order a new storefront,” Will
directed. “Thicker this time.”
“Any changes in style or lettering?” Jack asked.
“No,” Will answered. “Same lettering. Same gold leaf. They have the particulars. Ask them to send white canvas and some workers to hang it until the window is ready for installation. And ask them to send the bill for it to Miss Julia Jane Parham in care of the Salvationist mission.”
Jack looked stunned. A gentleman did not demand payment from a lady for any reason. And Will Keegan was every inch a gentleman. “Will . . .”
“She said she’d pay for the storefront.” Will thought for a moment, then came to his senses. “Never mind. I’ll take care of the storefront.” He turned to Jack. “And I’ll take the matter up with Miss Parham later. . . .”
That discussion wouldn’t go well for Miss Parham. Jack had seen that determined glint in Will’s eyes before. Will Keegan had earned his reputation for being an iron-fisted negotiator, making thousands of dollars for Craig Capital, Ltd. “Should I warn Miss Parham of the impending negotiations?” Jack joked. “Or should we simply install a fence around the new window?”
“And give her another challenge to overcome?” Will retorted.
“It’s either that or leave the canvas in place.”
“Lumber would be a better option,” Will deadpanned. “I was thinking shutters might be a good idea. The canvas would save us money replacing storefronts, but what we’d save there, we’d lose in whiskey. There would be no protecting our liquor from temperance women or drunks or even our thirsty guests, and no privacy or protection for our other enterprises from enemies with sharp knives or a pair of scissors. And think what we’d have to pay out in additional security. . . .”
The two men exchanged looks. Sometimes you simply had to find the humor in a situation. The stakes were high. For them. For Julia Jane Parham. And for the seven young women upstairs. The fact that an intruder had spent the night in a bed upstairs had played a major part in their decision to hire additional men to help protect the occupants of the second-floor bedrooms. “I see your point.”
“Where do we stand on that issue?” Will asked.