Part 30 (1/2)

Yes. He was going to ask her for the sake of his oath. Never thinking beyond the ceremony because his mind refused to dwell on what must follow.

”Liam,” she whispered. ”Look at me. Look at me.”

He couldn't. There were ghosts in his way, the ghosts of defeat and those he had lost, phantoms of all the things he'd thought he wanted.

But Caroline was not among them. He did not want her. He couldn't. He knew it with a certainty beyond any he'd known in his life. He could protect her, cherish her, care for her. He could fulfill his vow. But he could never love her.

She wanted something he had forgotten the meaning of, had lost years ago in the tenements of New York.

Caroline moved closer. She put her hands on his chest before he could walk away.

”Kiss me,” she said. ”Kiss me like you did at Cliff House.”

He caught her wrists. ”No.” It was the only word that would come. ”Noa””

”You want her.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly. ”You want her, not me.”

He held her shaking shoulders gently and set her back. He stroked her hair once, only the ghost of a touch, and left her.

He could hear her sobs as he descended the stairs.

Mrs. Hunter was waiting, perched on the settee in the music room. ”Go to her, Amelia,” he said tonelessly.

”She needs you.” She started for the stairs and he stayed her with a gesture. ”Keep Caroline inside and admit no one. Do I make myself clear?”

He didn't wait for her answer. He walked the length of the hall, paused at the door, and slowly opened it.

The sun was beginning to set. Soon it would be darka”a time of oblivion, if he chose it to be. He could go back to the Coast and drink himself insensible, or take his riding horse and Norton and go racing along the beach until they could run no more.

But tomorrow everything would still be as it was.

He started toward the carriage house and had gone only a few steps when a man emerged from the garden shrubbery.

”Mr. O'Shea,” he said.

Liam stopped, instantly wary. ”Bauer. What are you doing here?”

The investigator was coolly professional as always. ”Your man Chen told me you might be here,” he said. ”I have news that might interest you.”

”Out with it, then.”

”I've located Mr. Sinclair.”

Liam took a sharp step forward. ”Where is he?”

”I tracked him to Chinatown. He was incognito, but once I recognized him I was able to follow him to one of the primary tong houses.”

A cold chill numbed Liam's body. ”And?”

”He apparently met with Yung Po. I don't know the nature of the conversation, but Sinclair seemed satisfied with the meeting.”

Yung Po. One of the most powerful tong lords, a man who controlled a quarter of Chinatown, who dealt in bribery and opium and, most especially, girls to fill the houses of prost.i.tution. Girls Liam's group had often been able to rescuea”until the last raid, which had ended in near disaster.

A raid that had been foiled by an informant. Until now Liam had suspected one of the group, or someone closely connected.

Perry had never been one of the group, but he'd been close to Liam. Close enough to learn of the raids if he'd been interested enough.

San Francisco was filled with city officials and police more than willing to be bribed to overlook laws broken by men like Yung Po. Some of them profited even more directly by the trade in opium and slaves. Perry was no official, but he had friends all throughout the city. If he had special knowledge he could sell to the tongs for a cut of their incomea”if he were working for the tongs and had promised to get a certain troublesome Irishman out of the way once and for all, it would doubly serve his purpose.

”When did you see him?” Liam demanded.

”Only last night. I couldn't find you until now. But I talked to a few men in Chinatown, and Sinclair's met with Po before. He was first seen at the tong house less than a week ago.”

Liam closed his eyes. Only a few days before the raid.

”I've had men trailing Sinclair,” Bauer said, ”but he went underground somewhere in Chinatown. It's very easy to get lost there if you want to disappear. The minute he surfaces again I'll send word.”

As if that could undo anything that had happened. Perry was more than a would-be murderer, more than a man who'd callously court an innocent girl for her fortune. He'd used Mac and then set her out as bait, indifferent to the harm that might come to her as a result. And he'd set himself to profit by the sale of children into lives of s.e.xual slavery.

”Listen to me, Bauer,” he said coldly. ”I want you to have men watching this house twenty-four hours a day. I don't care how much money you spend or what steps you take, but I want Miss Gresham safe from him. I've given orders that Caroline is not to leave the house. If Mrs. Hunter goes out she's to be followed.”

”As you wish. And when I find Sinclair?”

Liam stared blindly into the garden. ”He's my problem. I'll deal with him.”

”He's a dangerous man, Mr. O'Shea.”

”So am I, Bauer. So am I.”

Bauer had the good sense to leave then, melting away without so much as the crunch of a footstep on the gravel path. The chill in Liam's belly remained long after Bauer was gone, long after Liam retrieved the phaeton from the Gresham groom and drove out the gates.

He knew, now, where he needed to go. He'd done all he could for Caroline, but he had a second responsibility. One he'd never asked for. A woman who'd been in danger three times for his sake, whom he had to make safe in spite of her conniving ways and dubious motives.

He drove into the Grand Court of the Palace and his icy numbness washed away on the fierce tide of an emotion he understood.

It was impossible to be numb in Mac's presence, impossible to forget he was alive. She flouted him, defied him, forced him to fight. And it was a fight he wanted now, a fight to make his blood beat hard and his wits regain their edge.

Not by a single s.h.i.+ft in his expression did he reveal his purpose as he left his team in the care of hotel staff and went in search of the concierge. A quiet word and a sum of coin earned a.s.surances of discretion and privacy.

Then he was taking the stairs two at a time, refusing the sluggish dignity of the elevator, and standing before Mac's door.

It was locked. He thought better of breaking it down and confined himself to an ordinary knock.

Mac opened the door, took one look at his face, and started to shut it again. He wedged his foot in the door and pushed through. She retreated a few steps and then held her ground, braced like a matador waiting for the charge of a particularly nasty bull.

Liam closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock. He looked her up and down, taking in the lacy muslin chemise that was her sole garment. His body instantly tightened. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over a chair.