Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

I chose a hammer. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“We’re still in Chinatown. The red brick is the giveaway. We might be underground, in a basement perhaps. I’ve heard rumors of an underground network of tunnels.”

“Tunnels? Under Chinatown?”

“Come on,” he motioned. “Let’s move.”

He put his head against the wooden door and listened. “Sounds quiet.” He cracked the door a few inches and peeked out before opening it all the way. We exited the room and entered a hallway. The walls and floor were cement, and there were bulbs lighting every few feet.

“Looks like the rumors are true. Which way?” I asked. Both directions looked identical.

Kang shrugged. “Hell if I know. The grade in this direction seems to angle up.” He pointed. “Maybe this is the way out.”

We walked ten or fifteen feet, Kang leading the way, before a doorway on the left side of the hall came into view. He placed his ear against the door and listened but heard nothing. He turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. He quietly pushed it open to reveal another small room, except the floor was covered with mattresses, and there were seven or eight girls sleeping in various states of undress. At least they looked asleep. Kang closed the door. “We’ll have to send help for them later.”

We continued down the dimly lit hall until we came upon another door on the right. Before opening it, Kang took the same precautions as before. This time, it didn’t work. Inside the room were three goons packaging marijuana into small bags. They sprang from their seats and came at us. Kang tried to shut the door, but the pull from the other direction was too great and his hand slipped off the knob. Within seconds, the three men had attacked us in the hall. Kang plunged his knife into the neck of the first guy out of the room and tossed the gurgling man off to the side, ready to defend against the second.

The third man slipped by and came right at me with his arm cocked, ready to explode. I ducked, causing him to miss, but his momentum sent his body into me, knocking me to the ground. He tripped, landing a few feet away. I flipped over to my knees and stood up quicker than he did. Not necessarily wanting to kill this guy, I spun the tool around and punched the handle into his chest. Oomph! He doubled over. I followed with an elbow to the back of his head and sent him to the ground unconscious. I turned in time to see Kang slam his guy into the wall face first, twice. He stopped moving and fell to the floor.

I looked at the guy with the knife sticking out of his neck. I still couldn’t believe that Kang was responsible for that and the dead body in the holding room. Killing a man in hand-to-hand combat is about as up close and personal as it gets.

“Come on; we need to hurry. Surely the noise will have alerted more men,” Kang said as he pulled the knife out of the dead man’s neck. We hurried as fast as we could. I kept waiting for more men to appear, wondering if I would have to use the other half of the hammer. We made a right and a left.

“There, up ahead.” Kang pointed at a door and we ran toward it. He yanked on the knob but it was locked. “Damn!”

“Move,” I said. “This knob looks pretty old.”

I hammered away at it. After the fourth swing, it broke off. I hacked at the area where the latch held the door in its frame. Two strikes and the old wood split apart. Kang backed up and kicked the door off its hinges, revealing a storage room.

We made our way past shelves of dry food, large cans of soy sauce, plastic containers of seasonings, jugs of cooking oil, and more. Toward the back, we saw a wooden ladder leading up to a pair of metal doors. Kang grabbed the hammer from my hand and struck the doors repeatedly. I thought for sure more goons would show up any minute.

But then the metal doors creaked, and a beat later, they opened. Staring down at us were three very confused cooks.

Chapter 66

For the second time in one month, I found myself in the hospital, except this time I was forced to spend the night for observation. The toxicity test confirmed traces of xylazine in our systems. My levels were higher than what they found in Kang and in Monte’s remains.

“They probably injected the same amount in all of you, but with your weight and size, the drug had a much more aggressive affect on your body,” the doctor had told me earlier. “You’re lucky you didn’t die. That stuff is meant to knock out a horse, not humans.”

Over to my left, lying in another bed, was Kang. He was out cold but in stable condition. Reilly had ordered that we be put in the same room and an officer be stationed outside for our safety and to keep us from leaving. We both had IVs stuck in our arms to replenish our fluids, the hospital’s way of keeping a leash on us—they didn’t want us bolting prematurely either. I don’t blame them. I wanted out of that sterile room with its fluorescent lighting. I kept the lights off and used the small table lamps instead.

I watched the subtle rise and fall of Kang’s chest and listened to his gentle breaths. He seemed peaceful in his bed. It was hard to imagine that, hours ago, he had been a raging ball of testosterone, battling enemies to see to my safety.
Talk about a partner having your back.

When I told the paramedic that I didn’t need to go to the hospital, Kang insisted. He told me how I continued to flow in and out of my catatonic state. One second, I would be right behind him, following him down the hall; the next second, he would look back and find me standing still and swaying. I didn’t believe him. I thought he was joking, but he insisted it was true. I had no recollection of it.

On the way to the hospital, I remember telling him about the room with the half-naked women and the other one with the three men who attacked us. “I took one of them out.”

“Yes, you did,” he answered in a neutral tone. “But what you’re not remembering is the group of men who came up on us in that hallway and attacked you from behind, knocking you to the ground.”

My brow narrowed.

“You don’t remember that, do you?”

It wasn’t until the doctor confirmed what Kang had said that I bought into his story. “It’s a known side effect with addicts who use xylazine. They tend to go in and out of consciousness even though they’re awake. It probably happened to all three of you but your effects simply lasted longer.”

I had to wonder what else had happened that I couldn’t remember.

Once we were alone in our hospital room, I interrogated Kang for all the details. He started by filling me in on what took place from the moment he regained full consciousness until we appeared in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. According to Kang, there was one other thing I didn’t recall.

“I threw myself at you?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you would get embarrassed.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not embarrassed, because I know it didn’t happen.”

“Do you? You heard what the doc said earlier.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t bother me. I have that effect on women, especially when I rescue them.”

I pressed my lips tightly together as my face turned various shades of red. He had officially embarrassed me.

Kang looked at me from his bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind being your hero,” he said before laughing and rolling over to his side.

I didn’t want to encourage him, but I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. As I lay quietly, I started looking at Kang differently. I knew he was still the same jokey guy I had worked with for the last month, but somehow, seeing him through the lens of an action hero changed things for me. Suddenly, he was a strong, take-charge guy who defended me from evil men and ensured my safety. He had become my knight in shining armor. I mean, what kind of gal wouldn’t want a guy like that coming to her rescue? I couldn’t help but feel like I had developed, how would I say this, a mild crush on the guy.
Me and Kang? Nah
. I tried to repress the feelings, but they lingered.

As I lay there trying to understand my newfound feelings, the door to our room squeaked open, and in walked Agent House.

“Hey there, Special Agent.”

I smiled at my friend, happy that she had come to see me. “What are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it they’re promoting you.”

I waved off House’s remark. “I’m not interested. More responsibility means more work. I already have plenty to deal with.”

House removed a Thermos of hot water from her bag and placed it on the table next to me along with a familiar little tin.

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” she said as she poured some hot water into a cup. “Swung by your house, and your Po Po gave me some of your tea. Speaking of, she hasn’t told the kids yet about what really happened. They think you’re at work. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

The kids were always the toughest part about my job. I thought it would be easier as they grew older. It’s not. Maybe when they’re eighteen I can tell them the whole story. “Hmmm, I’m not sure. The truth I guess.”

House squeezed my hand gently and smiled before looking over at Kang. “How’s he doing?”

“Fine. He’s sleeping.”

“You got lucky with him. I hear he’s some sort of Kung Fu master and that he dropped a guy with one finger.”

“Boy, the rumor mill is in full churn, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, and everyone is loving it. Wanna hear more?”

“No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of drama.”

A devilish smile grew on House’s face as she leaned toward me, a giggle escaping her lips. “I watched you from outside the window before coming in,” she said. “You were staring at him.”

“Shhh!” I said, my voice barely audible. “He might be listening.”

“So it is true; you did call him your hero,” she singsonged.

“It’s not, and I didn’t.” My cheeks burned, and I could barely make eye contact with her.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” she continued in a hushed tone. “He’s a good-looking guy.”

“It’s not like that. Our relationship is completely professional.”

“Relationships change.”

“This one doesn’t.”

“Why not? The case is pretty much over.”

“Where does it stand?”

“Good question. Quai Chan and his goons, had they survived, would have faced a long list of charges ranging from murder to kidnapping and assaulting a federal agent.”

“What about the tunnels?”

“A search of the tunnels garnered us a few more members from the local Triad gang, and we confiscated a large stash of marijuana and illegal fireworks.”

“And the girls?”

“They’re from China—underage and trafficked into the country. We turned them over to ICE’s Victim Assistance Program. Other than that, just bodies left from your rampage.”

“Mine? Try Hercules’.” I motioned toward Kang with my head.

“Nonetheless, Forensics has a long day ahead of them.”

“Kang mentioned a guy named Jing Woo.”

“Boy, you do need a briefing.” House looked down at her watch before lowering her voice. “In three hours, Reilly plans on hitting Jing. We got a tip that he holds court at a tong over on Waverly Avenue. Reilly’s dropping the hammer, using two full tactical teams. I feel sorry for anybody in the building when they strike.”

“I feel out of the loop.”

“You should be. You’re in a hospital. Look, not a lot of people know about the Jing hit, not even SFPD. Reilly didn’t want anything leaked. There is enough incriminating evidence in those tunnels to tie to Jing, app aside. I’m sure there’s more to be found at Jing’s place. It’s about time we cleaned house in Chinatown. SFPD has let that place police itself way too long.”

House motioned over to Kang with her head. “Isn’t there some festival in Chinatown this weekend?” The playfulness in her voice had returned.

“I think so.”

“Ask if he’s going. Tell him you are. You guys can hang out, it won’t feel like a real date, and you can kind of see how it feels without any pressure.”

I stole a look at Kang before turning back to House with a big grin on my face.

“See? I knew you liked him,” she said, laughing.

“That’s a really good idea.”

“What’s a good idea?” Kang said, interrupting our planning session.

Chapter 67

I froze, and my heart leaped out of my chest and hid somewhere under the bed.
How long had he been listening?
I whacked House on the arm, urging her to say something. She shook her head violently. Suddenly, the talkative one had rigor mortis of the mouth.

He rolled over to face us.

“You’re up,” I managed with as much normalcy as I could muster. “Uh, I was telling Tracy about that festival in Chinatown.”

“Oh, yeah, the music festival. I plan on going.”

“Maybe we can meet up.”

“Yeah, that would be great—granted, if they let us out of here. Text me when you two get there.”

“I can’t go,” Tracy blurted sharply. “I already have plans. Sorry, but Abby, you should go. It sounds fun.”

Man, the acting in this Girl Likes Boy skit is so bad. No way he buys off on it.

“Okay. Abby, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Okay, he did.

Just as I was about to suggest a time, the devil appeared, and it had a squeaky voice.

“Kyle!”

Into our room walked a thin, tall, high-heeled, Gucci-purse-carrying, pearl-necklace-and-jade-bracelet wearing, plum-lipstick-pouting, hand-towel-as-a-skirt-sashaying, fair-skinned, Asian beauty with a stuffed teddy bear holding a “Get Well Soon!” balloon.

She shuffled in with tiny steps as she shimmied her braless breasts under what had to be the sheerest blouse ever invented in the history of mankind. “I’m so sad to see you here,” she whined as her eyelashes batted hard and long enough to produce sustainable wind energy. “How’s my wovey dovey? Is my waby feewing better?”

She then made kissing sounds and had the bear kiss Kang all over his face. And damn it if he wasn’t eating the act up. Kang was in La La Land, laughing and giggling with that woman as she snuggled up to him. It wasn’t until House cleared her throat that the two broke apart from their over-the-top, puke-inducing public display of affection.