Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(34)
“Open it.”
“No,” Pyotr declared. Triumph settled into his manner. “I won’t. And you must put that gun away, because you cannot kill me or else the safe’s combination dies with me, and you will never fix that girl.”
The apartment fell quiet. Roma and Juliette exchanged another glance, communicating a decision. In the aftermath of his declaration, Pyotr looked very, very smug.
Then Juliette fired her gun.
The bullet embedded right into the man’s forehead. Blood sprayed, red as rubies, and Pyotr fell backward with a thud, landing on his carpet at an awkward angle before stilling. Dead.
“God,” she said, wiping the spatter from her neck, “he was so annoying. Does he think safes are bulletproof?”
Roma grimaced, shuffling back before the spreading puddle of blood on the carpet could touch his shoes. “Juliette…”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she assured, stepping away from the puddle too. “I came prepared.”
She patted her qipao and found the invoice she had been carrying around. A statement showing a high amount of money owed. She slapped it on the table and positioned it so that it could be easily spotted by anyone who walked through the door. The authorities were going to think this was a debt killing. Hopefully the rumors would spread back to the weapons ring operating out of Zhouzhuang. Two birds with one stone: a nasty elimination and their reputation aided.
Roma grabbed the safe, lugging it down from the top shelf. Curiously, he peered over the table while he walked a few steps, reading the invoice. “How long have you been carrying that around?”
“Too long. Put the safe down.”
Compliantly, Roma set the safe on the floor a distance away from the body. “One moment.” He stepped back, fingers plugged into his ears. “All right. Go on.”
Juliette shot at the lock. She emptied out the round in her gun, crouching down to peer at the damage. It looked as if a few more would do the trick.
She turned to Roma. “My love?”
He handed her his pistol without further prompting. Juliette aimed, and the next bullet tore the lock clean off, the door slowly creaking open.
Juliette snatched out the two vials.
* * *
“We can run some tests, I am sure,” Roma was saying as they got out of the car. He held the vials up to the early evening light. Something in the clear liquid was glinting each time it caught the orange sun.
“Tomorrow,” Juliette decided, visibly holding back a yawn. They stepped through Zhouzhuang’s main gate, trudging into one of its smaller paths. “We have one threat eliminated, so there’s no need to rush—”
She swiveled suddenly. Roma followed her line of sight, concerned as he put the vials away.
“What is it?” he asked. He could smell dinner from one of these houses, wafting out into the air.
“I thought I saw someone running past in that other alley,” Juliette answered. “I got a terrible chill.”
Roma didn’t know if he was simply too readily prepared to switch his demeanor the moment Juliette was on alert, but a shudder ran down his spine in an instant. He reached for her arm, pushing them forward. “Let’s get home. It’s eerie at this hour.”
They walked fast. Doors in the alleys blew open and slammed closed. Teahouse staff threw buckets of water out onto the streets. The canals ran and ran and ran.
One street away from their house, Juliette stopped short again. This time, Roma fully expected something to barge out from the shadows and looked around before he even asked what was wrong.
“Look, I know we’re both out of bullets, but if we hold our guns up threateningly…”
“Wait, Roma,” Juliette whispered. “Listen.”
It was Mrs. Fan’s shouting.
Juliette raced forward. Roma was close behind. He made a rapid scan of the outside of Mrs. Fan’s house, at first finding nothing out of the ordinary. Then he caught sight of a single shard of glass on the pathway from a half-broken window, and he drew his empty gun.
“Fan nǎinai?” Juliette yelled, kicking through the front door.
When Roma followed, the two of them charged into the room as smoothly as a zip parting along the middle. Juliette picked up a cup on the table and hurled it fast at the man lunging for Mrs. Fan; Roma raised his pistol at the man who had already gotten ahold of Mila, forcing him to freeze with one hand around her arm. She looked terrified. Her knuckles were bright pink, as if she had tried to fend them off. At the other side of the room, Yulun had a broomstick in his hands, raised in preparation, though he was shaking.
Both of the intruders had angels tattooed to the sides of their necks.
“Release her,” Roma commanded. He walked a step closer to the man. “Now.”
The other mercenary slumped to the floor. Juliette had thrown the cup hard enough to smash into shards between his eyes, knocking him out.
“Calm down,” the first man said. A syringe appeared in his other hand. “I am not here to retrieve her. I have only been told to collect a vial of blood for research. Then I will let her go, and we are all happy.”
“No, stop!” Juliette called. Extreme alarm filled her tone. “You don’t understand—”
The mercenary pricked the needle into Mila’s arm.
As soon as the needle touched her, Mila screamed and hurled herself away with unnatural strength.