Page 3 of Last Violent Call
Her apology was sincere. She had once believed that inheriting the Scarlet Gang would give her immense power, that she would be able to help the people who needed it and stomp down the people trying to hurt her. But that kind of power was never supposed to be concentrated in one place, and a position like that would only draw up an unending list of enemies trying to cause her harm. She preferred a life free from the Scarlet Gang to a magnitude that was beyond words, and yet there was always going to be the little pang in her heart when she couldn’t make things happen with a snap of her finger anymore.
Yulun took the newspaper clipping, returning it to his pocketalongside the photo of his fiancée. His lower lip wobbled. Before it could happen again, he steadied his expression, giving an accepting nod.
Roma stood and circled around the table. “I will walk you out,” he said, clapping his hand down on Yulun’s shoulder. “Are you able to get yourself back home?”
Yulun stood as well, looking dejected. “Yes, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“Ah, we don’t mind being enlivened once in a while.” They disappeared into the living room, the murmur of conversation carrying on for a few more minutes before the front door opened and closed.
Juliette sighed, propping her elbows onto the table and resting her chin in her hands. She was still holding that pose when Roma returned to the kitchen, her eyes flicking up and latching onto him. He leaned against the archway, raising a brow as if to ask why she was staring, but she didn’t look away. She liked admiring him without being afraid of getting caught. She liked it when she spotted him at the open market unexpectedly, breaking into a run and surprise-attacking him from the back, getting a laugh in response instead of a gun pulled on her. Their past had made every moment of their future a novelty, and she would never get sick of peppering him with kisses when she woke him up in the mornings, waiting for him to draw away before she was willing to stop—only he always refused to draw away first, offering his face with the biggest grin.
She would have thought that the addictive thrill would wear off after the first year. Perhaps once they started getting used to living without fear, living without the weight of two families and a whole city on their shoulders. But the truth was that weight would never fully fade, so neither did the knowledge that they had achieved something unbelievable in finding peace. Sometimes Juliette still jumped if a restaurant owner dropped a metal bowl on the ground, convinced that there were gunshots in the distance and she needed to go break up a fightbetween gangsters. Even if she realized quickly that there was nothing to be afraid of, her thoughts would be foggy and her palms clammy all day long, unsettling her stomach until she managed to distract herself. Sometimes Roma still woke up panicked in the middle of the night, shouting Juliette’s name as if she had been pulled away in his dream, and though Juliette would be right beside him, her hands clasping his face, whispering, “I’m here, I’m right here, my love, it’s okay,” his heart wouldn’t stop thudding under her touch until morning, neither of them sleeping.
Juliette got out of her chair and walked toward him now. Put her arms around his neck without saying anything, letting him draw her closer until they were pressed flush.
“I’m sorry,” Roma murmured. “If I had known he was going to spring that on us, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“No, I’m happy you wanted to see if we could help,” Juliette replied. She searched his gaze, trying to communicate how deeply she meant it. The very fact that he could afford to be kind, that they could try to be ordinary people extending a hand wherever possible, was a beautiful thing. It was only unfortunate that the boy had such high expectations, and Roma and Juliette could hardly meet them without exposing too much of themselves.
It had taken a tremendous amount of coordination to make use of every old contact they had in Shanghai without giving away their identities. Some contacts required blackmailing before they were willing to cooperate; others required a very roundabout series of white lies to convince them that they had been plugged into this trading ring all along. Either way, the information that Roma and Juliette clutched individually was worth its weight in gold when put together, and there was no denying the power of their pasts each time they reached out to reinforce a connection. While a few seemed to suspect some leak in the former innermost gang circles, no one would guess it was Roma and Juliette resurrected from the dead. So long as the ones who gotclose enough to see their faces didn’t start spreading rumors, it was a fine setup. Preservation of their identities was always going to be the highest priority. They hadn’t worked so hard for this new life only for it to shatter.
Juliette did feel bad about it, though. About lying to the boy. About lying to those she had abandoned in Shanghai. She knew it haunted Roma, too, leaving his sister in the city. It was too dangerous to risk Alisa coming in and out if she knew that they were located here, and they had been waiting and waiting for the political upheaval in the city to lessen before making contact. Juliette wouldn’t even have told Celia if her cousin hadn’t been the one to smuggle them out here.
The years were wearing on. They were children growing into adult faces, waiting for a moment of contentment that might never come. She lived every day aware that Celia might get caught as a Communist agent while traveling into Zhouzhuang, that she would be hauled in by the current government and accused of protecting criminals who should have been reformed in Juliette’s case and executed in Roma’s. She was glad that her hand had been forced, achingly glad that she saw her cousin almost once a month, whenever Celia had time to visit, but Juliette would have accepted the burden of playing dead if it meant safety for those she loved most. She and Roma were the same that way. It was their greatest flaw and their greatest strength at once, and she doubted that would ever change.
Maybe if Yulun called again, though, Juliette would slide a handgun his way. Free of charge, and when Roma was looking in the other direction.
As if he could hear her frantic internal squall, Roma brushed his lips against her temple, quieting every thought.
“Well,” he said, “I’m always happy to make you happy.”
Juliette beamed. She couldn’t help it. As much as she thought ofherself as hardened steel, Roma turned her lovesick at a speed that verged on embarrassing. They had been together for four years now—together properly, not counting their terrible on-off phases, or else they would soon be approaching nine—and loving him was still soeasy, despite being removed from everything they once knew. All it took was her heart on her sleeve and his pulled open too, and she was constantly tickled pink by her favorite person.
“Also…”
Just as Juliette was about to pull away, returning her arms to her sides, Roma grabbed her jaw, stopping her from further movement. Though the move was made with the pretense of being daunting, Roma and Juliette hadactuallytried to kill each other a few times in those off phases—some of the instances coming quite close—so the feigned rough handling only made Juliette grin.
“?‘I didn’t realize you had such big feet’?” Roma mimicked. “Dorogaya, I’m shocked and disappointed.”
“At my terrible housekeeping?”
“No, that you have such poor observation skills.” He grabbed her by the waist suddenly and threw her over his shoulder. All of Juliette’s loose hair fell into her eyes as she turned upside down with a squeal, clutching onto the hem of Roma’s shirt for some semblance of balance while he walked them into the bedroom. “I guess I’ll just have to show you again so you are certain next time.”
2
Roma was a late riser by nature. He hadn’t realized this tidbit about himself for the first nineteen years of his life, when he would jump out of bed at the hint of dawn, frantically sorting through the day’s problems before they could arise. Time had never belonged to him back when he was the heir to the White Flowers; time belonged to whatever the city’s next task was, spurring him to run to the loudest call.
These days, he either let Juliette wake him—shewas an early riser by nature—or he stirred back into the world once he felt well rested enough, stretching his arms upon the sheets, half of him buried in the mass of pillows that took up most of their bed.
Roma lifted his head blearily, trying to listen for Juliette in the house. It was quiet. When he turned over and rubbed his eyes, the metal of his wedding ring cool against his cheek, there was a note atop the small table at his side, written in tiny English letters that he needed to squint to read.
I took your shirt hostage. The ransom is three kisses. Pay up or the whole wardrobe gets it.
♥J
Roma laughed under his breath, rolling out of the blankets and grabbing the trousers that she had been so kind as to not also take hostage. Mornings in late September meant that there was the slightest chill inthe air when he opened the bedroom door, but he still padded into the washroom without finding a second shirt, taking his time brushing his teeth and flattening his hair. He knew where Juliette would be waiting. They had adopted a regular weekday routine, and these early hours were for whatever entertained them the most, because the real work and meetings didn’t start until noon, when their suppliers started driving into the township to bring stock and their hired help came around with equipment and messages and whatever else the business needed.
“Has anyone ever told you,” Roma began, opening the front door, “that you leave threats like a gangster heiress?”
