Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

Liu was slowly killing these men. Through Xiao, he was breaking their bodies and their spirits.

And soon Xiao would be afforded the supreme satisfaction of ending their lives.

“What I’ve just told you remains between us,” Liu stated. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. “The circumstances surrounding Meili’s death have been concealed. That’s the way I intend it to stay.”

“Of course, A Sook.” Xiao bowed his head. “You have my solemn pledge.”

“And you have my trust.”

That was that. In the blink of an eye, Liu was no longer the grieving father. He was the Dragon Head.

“It’s time to share the final phase of my plan with you,” he pronounced. “The Black Eagles will soon be arriving in America. They have been paid enough to ensure we reap millions of American dollars. Thanks to the groundwork you laid with their Albanian-American relatives, everything is in order for their arrival. You will run the entire operation. It is complex, but I know you’ll succeed. My niece and her amah will play key roles in the entire plan, especially in the demise of my enemies. It must unfold quickly, and with ultimate precision. After that, my personal scores will be settled, and the triad will be left wealthy and strong.”

“Left?” Xiao refused to ignore the finality of Liu’s statement.

Without responding, Liu rose, gripping the chair arms for support. The conversation had clearly worn him out. “I must rest now. Afterward, we’ll talk again. By the time you return to New York, you will be ready.”

“A Sook,” Xiao inserted quickly, also rising to his feet. “I’m honored by your faith in me. Have no doubt that I’ll make your plan succeed. I’ll bring great wealth to our triad. And I’ll take personal pleasure in killing your enemies. But your urgency causes me concern. Why have you so rapidly accelerated your plan?”

Liu faced Xiao without emotion. “You know the answer. My time here grows short.”

“I will not accept that.” Xiao had never spoken so disrespectfully to his Dragon Head. But this was one time he couldn’t contain himself. “You will not leave this earth. I won’t permit it. Whatever is ailing you, we’ll fight it.”

Rather than becoming angry, Liu looked somewhat amused. “Some fights cannot be won, my son. Not even by you. My cancer is advanced. It’s spread throughout my body. I’ll be dead in a month, maybe two.”

Hearing the news spoken aloud, Xiao felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. His Dragon Head was his inspiration, the man he’d modeled his life after. Others died. Liu lived forever.

“There will be no mourning,” Liu instructed Xiao. “Only acceptance and preparation. Live up to your potential. Put my affairs in order. Fulfill my final requests. Then I can die in peace.”

There was no room left for argument. Xiao would comply with Liu’s final wishes.

“All that you ask will be done,” Xiao replied, the icy purpose in his soul returning to his voice, his eyes. “Everything you’ve requested will become reality. And afterward, I’ll honor your memory. I’ll make sure you live on.”

“I never doubted it. If all goes as planned, the triad members will soon be addressing you as Dragon Head.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Matthew Burbank was pacing by the front door when Sloane arrived. He was sheet white, and looked ill.

“I’m here, Dad,” she said quietly. “I talked to Mom’s doctor. Everything is fine. They’ve set her arm, and she’s asleep. She’ll be in and out of sleep—mostly in—for a few hours anyway. So let’s take care of this first. Then, we’ll go pick her up. I also talked to the security agency. They’re starting a private search for Fred. When I give them the go-ahead, they’ll call the NYPD. But we all know the likelihood of finding Fred alive is zip. Organized crime doesn’t leave witnesses.”

A taut nod.

“Did you follow my instructions?”

“Yes. I haven’t said a word since we spoke. Nor has Special Agent Williams. He’s just sitting in the living room, like a lion waiting for his meat.”

“Then let’s make sure he knows he’s not getting any.” Sloane squeezed her father’s arm. “It will be all right. Just let me do all the talking.”

She walked inside and led the way into the living room.

Rich Williams was seated on the sofa with an empty coffee cup perched on the table in front of him. Quickly, Sloane sized him up. A distinguished, silver-haired man in a business suit, he was self-assured, comfortable in his own skin, and low-key in a way that suggested he’d already acquired everything he needed to call this a wrap.

An experienced agent. And a perfect demeanor to unnerve someone like her father.

“Hello, Agent Williams,” Sloane said in a crisp professional voice.

“Ms. Burbank.” He came to his feet at once, extending his hand to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”