Free The Red Heart of Jade by Marjorie M. Liu Page B

anything else. All she could do was fight her heart—stay calm, focused, clear and hard and ready to fight.
    Just like old times , she told herself, breathing around the gun. The backs of her knees bumped up against the bed. Miri sat down hard and the gun left her mouth, but only just. Metal touched her cheek.
    “You can scream if you like,” said the man, in a voice that was suddenly familiar, “but there will be no one to hear you. This entire floor has been rented out by my employer, and the soundproofing beneath us, state-of-the-art. You may also fight me, if that is your wish, but I think you know what will happen if you do. “ And he ran the barrel of the gun across her lips. Miri briefly closed her eyes.
    He stopped touching her and moved away, pausing over the cover on the floor. He picked it up and tossed it to her, waiting until she covered herself before turning on the lamp beside the bed. The sudden light made her blink, but she did not shield her face. She fought the glare and stared.
    Pale eyes. That was the first thing she noticed. The palest she had ever seen, a green that was almost white. Eyes that were just as familiar as the voice, the red hair, the silver around his neck.
    Robert. The man from the bakery.
    You knew , she told herself, but it was too little, too late. Miri kept her mouth shut, and the man mirrored her silence, unblinking and calculating, judging and measuring like he was holding her up to some terrible light. And the silence lasted; it grew, until each passing second felt like another kind of weapon, a bullet in her head and heart. She needed sound. She needed engagement. She needed to be something more than just an object, and if she could not fight a gun, then at least she could talk.
    Talk with the taste of metal still in her mouth.
    Robert finally sighed—a long sound, almost a word, a statement—the corner of his mouth curving into something wry and bitter, and when he spoke it was a murmur, a slow, crisp extension of every syllable, giving it a color, a taste, as it rolled off his tongue.
    “Dr. Lee,” he said. “Dear and lovely Mirabelle Lee. Professor of archaeology, with numerous accolades attached to the title. One of the world’s foremost experts on ancient China, second only to Dr. Owen Wills. Rumored to be having an affair with said colleague, though after meeting you, I believe that can be safely ruled out.”
    Miri’s fingers dug into the cover, holding on, holding on so tight, and she bit her tongue until she tasted blood.
    “You’ve done your research,” she managed, stifling a very strong desire to scream. “You know who I am. I can’t imagine why.”
    “Because I must,” he said. “Because that is my job.”
    “Which is?”
    “Whatever is necessary,” he said. “And I am a great believer in the motivational power of necessity.”
    “How nice for you,” Miri said, thinking wildly of escape, of any weapons close at hand. There was a lamp behind her, some heavy glasses above the minibar, perfume in the bathroom that she could spray in his eyes...
    Robert smiled. “I appreciate your level head, despite how sudden this must be for you. I do apologize for the way we are being introduced. But circumstances, unfortunately, have taken a turn for the worse, and I find that a proactive stance usually serves everyone better in the long run.”
    “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Miri said, “but you’ve got a gun on me, I’m naked, and that’s very uncomfortable. So if you have something actually important that you need to do or say, let’s get it over with now, so you can get the fuck out of here before I take that gun and shove it up your ass.”
    “I am here for the jade,” Robert said. “Or rather, I was. I was also sent to collect you. Is that clear enough?”
    Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was not it. Robert tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curving, and like a switch, she felt a flush creep