Silent Warrior Read Online Free Page B

so new to me. I might be getting light-headed. Say something shocking so I can return to the unpredictable chaos of my life.”
    She grabbed his hair with one hand, then slapped his cheek. “I’m called Silence,” she grated out. “Now please, for the love of the Dragon in the fiery Chasm, shut the fuck up.”
    Hark opened his mouth to laugh. Another shadow in the doorway cut off what should’ve been a glorious release of tension and giddy triumph. Kang. And Wu. And another seven thousand guys. This woman Silence had probably shoved the limbs of Konnor’s comrades into boxes posted to Zimbabwe—guaranteeing a little alone time—but these hard-asses were a reminder that they’d lingered too long. They’d practically been holding hands in the shadows.
    Hardly. Her fingers clenched his hair like talons, down to his scalp, and his cheek stung with a surprisingly erotic burn.
    “Go,” she snapped, giving him a shove.
    This time Hark did laugh. He laughed all the way down the alley.
    Silence had noiseless footfalls, which was no surprise. She was agile, tall, and willowy, and she even managed to keep her shield quiet. The bruisers behind them were not so fleet of foot. Hark led the way out of the narrow crevice between buildings, which leaned like crooked teeth. Adrenaline became another wild ride. Fight or flight was a cliché, too, but it was well and truly true. Better to run than risk another beating. Beatings were no fun.
    Well, except for that slap. Was she the type to crave a bit of rough?
    He’d put faith in his luck when facing far riskier prospects.
    For a reason he might never comprehend, Silence followed him when he veered sharply left. Maybe she knew Sham Shui Po, too. That was practical. Maybe she ran in a path that happened to match his. That would mean coincidence or destiny. He was willing to believe in his own luck, because most of the time he made shit happen by his own hard—or devious—work. But he wouldn’t ever give up his belief in free will. No one controlled his fate.
    Maybe she just wanted a steak, a bed, and a fuck as much as he did.
    He smiled again, dodging a pair of hookers in pigtails and four-inch thigh-high boots. A night full of neon beacons became his means of measuring progress and staving off the specters of the darkness. He hadn’t returned to his homeland in Egypt since he was a little kid, but he remembered its vivid glare. There, the sun became more than the sun, greater than the sun, as it reflected off mica, sand, and blindingly white buildings. Cairo didn’t know the meaning of the word silence —the constant chatter of a city. Kowloon, however frenzied, contained housing complexes so high and all-encompassing that sunlight never made it down through the towers.
    No thanks.
    He counted three streets up, two over, then past a hotel he knew housed a hentai fetish club in the basement. His lungs pumped exhaust-filled air. Silence ran like a gazelle at his side, perhaps in pure spite of her injury. He really hoped she had some weakness, other than an obvious phobia of vocal cords. The woman was too Snow White for his tastes, if Snow White looked like a warrior princess with spiked white-blond hair, a collar, and a sawblade shield across her back. Her golden pale skin practically glittered under the high-speed rainbows of flashing, smeared neon.
    Sure, he had a destination in mind, but it was more fun to see if Silence— how very original —would follow him there. Or how long she’d run with him at all. Or if she’d call out, asking him questions.
    So many possibilities. This had turned into an unexpectedly entertaining evening. He’d enjoy it while it lasted, pay off the most influential and violent of his loan sharks, and never step foot in fucking Hong Kong again.
    He slipped to a stop on the far side of a pokey noodle shop that reeked of salt. And chicken.
    “Our feast awaits.” He gestured to the eight-foot-wide concession stand trailer. “Only the best after a