Author's Note:

I'm so pleased at how many reviews I've gotten! You guys are amazing!

I don't know if you've ever been on an international flight, but they suck. Business class isn't so bad if you don't mind paying an arm and a leg- they actually have seats that turn into beds, and you get plenty of foot room. Unfortunately, I had no idea how much my rescue mission was going to cost me, so it was coach all the way. On the other hand, I still felt pretty lucky. One of the perks of being a producer of 'forged documents' is that I have a fantastic set all my own. My passport was impeccable, my birth certificate (with a new name, of course) was on hand, and I even had papers that declared I was already checked through customs and free to go. The plane ticket was the only thing I couldn't fix up.

My disposable cell phone started ringing as I neared my gate. Was it my imagination, or were a hundred eyes suddenly staring at me?

"…Hello?"

"You haven't boarded yet?"

"Obviously, Loco, or I wouldn't have answered."

"No shit. Look, this is the last favor I do for you…unless you feel like doing some sweet favors for me?"

"Give me the name."

"Your contact is Huan Lo. This guy runs an auto repair shop outside Shanghai in some place called Dafoonra…Darafoon? I don't know. He should be able to get what you need, for a price. Yo, Meg, you can't hold these guys up like you do me. They'll kill you."

"No shit. This repair shop got a name?"

"I don't remember. All those fucking Chinese names give me a headache. Are we done now?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Thanks, Loco."

"Yeah. Peace."

My phone clicked shut. I stood nervously outside the rows of chairs and tables set up for waiting passengers, moving only when the flight's boarding process began. The seat designated on my ticket was near the back, and I pushed through what must have been hundreds of Chinese families. Business men in suits, tiny women in floral prints and strappy sandals, and a handful of well-behaved children; these were people with money.

Exhausted, I closed my eyes and hoped to God nobody would notice me. On a plane full of Asians, how noticeable could a tall, white American woman be?

My ears felt clogged with cotton as fast-paced Chinese blared over the plane's speakers. After a slight pause, the flight attendant took up a much slower and less comfortable English.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying China Eastern Airlines. We will be landing in a few minutes. Please gather your belongings and have your passport on hand. Thank you."

I felt, and looked, like shit. My brown eyes had turn bloodshot and puffy, my blonde hair was a greasy mess, and my mouth desperately missed the feeling of a toothbrush. 14 hours on a commercial flight is exhausting, and a 13 hour time difference makes it even better. All I could think about was hitting my hotel room and having a hot cup of coffee and then a shower. Or maybe a shower first… No, fuck it. I was ready to suck down a hot cup of coffee in the hot shower.

It's understandable, then, that I didn't sense the guy tailing me as I stepped off the plane.

I took a cab to the Holiday Inn Express on Zhongxing Road, about seven miles from the dead center of the city. My cabby, an older man lacking a handful of teeth, called it 'Zhabei Shanghai'. Apparently Shanghai is made up of twenty different districts (Zhabei being one of them), kind of like how New York, New York has the four burgs.

Twenty different districts. Twenty different police forces. Twenty different gang families. Twenty million people. Kind of funny how it all comes together, isn't it?

It was a pretty drive that early in the morning. The sun was just rising, reflecting blood-red light off the glass and steel of a thousand different buildings. Men, mostly in business suits and nicer clothes, marched in tightly packed groups towards work. I could see a lot of signs written in Chinese, American, French, and a small handful of other languages.

"Tourist spot?" I tried to ask, but the words became lost in a yawn. The cabby smiled and nodded emphatically, as most mysterious Asian men do.

He helped me drag my bags to the bell hop, and I tipped him nicely. He handed me a handmade business card in return and became my first connection in China.

"Thank you, Miss…Coburn."

The concierge handed me my credit card back. It was my real card- I hadn't been able to arrange for a new one with a fake name. It's amazing how people avoid you after you murder a crime boss and all his local flunkies. Even with a handful of cold, hard cash, there were still people that turned my business away. People that had once been very good clients of Mr. Wei's, at least.

But having my name out in the open was what I needed, at least for now. In a cheap local hotel, they wouldn't have even bothered with my name. Nobody would know I was there. But here my name is on a server that any two-bit hacker can get into, and there are at least twenty different gangs in the area that keep an eye on foreigners moving through Shanghai. My name might set off a general alert, and then the whole of Shanghai will know I'm here. Including John.

And in any case, I wanted a clean bed to sleep in. It was a damn nice hotel; nicer than the last few apartments I've lived in. The bathroom was partitioned off by thick, glass blocks and there was a large television opposite the two single beds. I had the miniature coffee maker brewing while I turned on the hot water in the shower. The steam started fogging up the bathroom almost instantly, and by the time I got out, my coffee was ready for consumption.

Since I didn't have to go anywhere until the next day, I took my time sleeping, watching television, and raiding the mini-bar. I'm not much of a drinker, but I figured a little liquid courage couldn't hurt considering that I had no guarantee of leaving China alive. You can't exactly fuck with mobsters and expect to live.

I was full of a delicious, complementary breakfast when I finally left the hotel. The fact that nobody had come to assassinate me in my sleep had kind of surprised me. But then again, I didn't know shit about the underworld of China. Maybe someone had already taken over Wei's place and didn't care about his unfinished business. My name might not have meant anything to these people.

My cab took me past the railway station and on to a city just outside Shanghai called Darunfa. Huan Lo's shop there was a reputable business; the guy did everything from fixing cabs and motorcycles to custom paint jobs on classic automobiles.

The building looked antique as we approached. Aging wood paneled the sides, but there was a bright neon sign just above the door. It was very vintage, like it had come straight from an American 1950s car repair. Whoever this Lo guy was, he had taste, and he liked American things. I stepped out of the cab as smoothly as possible. I was wearing a pair of black boots that zipped up the sides, a hunting knife tucked into my socks, a pair of tight black Levis, and a white t-shirt that showed off my assets. My hair was up in a messy bun and my lips were a bright red. My image screamed 'FOREIGN WHORE', which is always good for business.

"You gotta' be Meg Coburn. I'll bet my garage on it."

A young Asian stepped out from behind a piece of shit Chevy Nova that was lacking paint and full of rust. He wiped the grease from his hands on a rag and tossed it to the ground before taking my hand in his and giving it a firm shake. Huan Lo was attractive- muscular, tanned, and tattooed. But he didn't look Chinese to me. Japanese or Vietnamese, maybe. There were a handful of guys scattered outside, working on scrap, and another handful on the inside working on much nicer cars. Lo led me to the very back of the decently sized garage where there was a small office.

"What can I do you for?" he asked, eyeing me appreciatively. I smirked and let him admire my general splendor for a moment. He was sure cute, but me, I don't do 'cute'.

"Guns and information."

"Let's start with the guns then. Am I backing an army? A handful of people?"

"…" I hesitated, not sure whether to tell the truth. Did he really need to know it was just me? I would find others, maybe, but there were no guarantees. My life just doesn't grant many of those.

"Oh? Alone?" he guessed. "How interesting. Are you an assassin?"

"Something like that. I'm not sure you need to know all the details." I kept my tone light, not wanting to lose my flirtatious edge. He smiled and I relaxed a bit.

"Of course, how rude of me. It's just that I'm curious to know what a sexy American woman is doing in China, and what she needs a gun for."

"Protection. There are bad men on the streets," I said sweetly.

"There are bad men in here, too."

"I'm going to need a few different options." I pretended not to have heard him. "Basic assassins tools, some handguns, and some automatics."

"Hm, options. Sounds like you don't know what kind of trouble you'll be getting into. I'll add a bit of everything into the mix, okay?"

"Lovely."

"That you are. So let's move on to the next matter of business. What kind of information are you looking for?"

"Have you heard of a man named John Lee?" Huan paused at that, thoughtful.

"I have one in the sideyard scrapping an '84 Ford pickup truck. But I'm guessing you mean one in particular." I wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. He didn't know about John Lee, and aside from Loco, he didn't know much about me.

"Nevermind. I need maps of the city, information about who's who around here, and a list of men-for-hire."

"Sweet Jesus, you don't know nothing about nothing, do you? You came to China, ready to start a fight with some poor bastard, but you don't know what you're doing."

"It was a sudden flight," I stated through gritted teeth. He was right, and I wasn't happy about it.

"This isn't a planned hit. Revenge, maybe?"

"I'm hoping to avoid confrontation. These aren't my streets, and I don't want to pick a fight with a big dog. I just want to scurry around like a quiet rat, you know?"

He looked me over again, trying to figure me out. "Sounds like someone's in trouble then. You got documents, in case you need to make a quick getaway?"

"I'll take care of those. Why the concern?"

"I can't help it!" He laughed suddenly. "You look like a classy American dame, even if you are a little rough. Ain't a way in hell I can say no if a pretty little thing like you is in trouble."

"Bullshit. The more you offer, the more I accept, and the more profit you make. But it was a sweet lie, nonetheless."

"I don't get many girls in here. Some are here to pick up their boss's cars, some are here to pick up their boss's guns, and some even come here for a handgun so they can raise hell and take the whole neighborhood with them."

"I don't know about the raising hell part, but I'll take this entire country apart if I have to."

"All by yourself?"

I laughed, and it came out too harsh. "Yeah, all by my little lonesome."

"I knew I liked you for a reason. Alright, I'll get you the guns, the maps, the information, and a couple of phone numbers. The mercenaries around here aren't reliable or safe, but you'll find more of them here than you will in the City of Angels. And…uh…what was that guy's name again?"

"John Lee."

"Right, right. Can you give me a little more than that? It'll be hard to find out anything when I'm asking about the most generic name in China."

"He used to work for Mr. Wei." Huan Lo looked less than pleased, but he didn't say anything. One of his men called for a taxi as he escorted me outside, and he even helped me into the cab like he was some kind of gentleman.

"Come back tomorrow, I'll have what you need."

As we drove away, a black SUV pulled up to the garage and a handful of men in suits got out. Lo kept his eyes on me, ignoring them, and I turned and watched as he became just a speck in the distance.

I didn't like that he'd asked me back the next day. Usually business men like Lo took their time with dealings, despite that most of their guns were stockpiled nearby. It was just the professional thing to do- a way for men to exercise a little power over their customers. Besides, it'd take hours for us to agree on a price, and he'd probably hold back some of his wares just so I'd have to come back and do more business later. Coming back tomorrow meant that he wanted the business finished quickly. He really hadn't liked Wei's name being brought up (not that I blamed him) and that made me uneasy.

I came in through the back entrance of the Holiday Inn Express, where the employee entrance was as well. I slipped my knife out of my boot and stuffed it in the pocket of my jeans as I made my way to my hotel room. The door, to my surprise, didn't look like anyone had forced the looks open. I took a cautious step inside, knife in hand.

My room was completely undisturbed. Nothing had been moved or rifled through, and I had been absolutely thorough about memorizing the room before I'd left. The hair I'd stuck over the door of the closet was intact.

That scared me most of all. John's last communication had been one of distress, but it didn't look like anyone was putting his face on any 'WANTED' ads. I'd come as publicly as I could, using my real name in an American hotel, and nobody had done so much as follow me down the street. There was silence where I expected gunshots and threats.

I was hard to fall asleep that night, since all I could think about was the fact that John was…well, more than likely…

Already dead.

Author's Note:

Hope you're liking this so far! I don't have a Beta for this, so it might be a little messy. I'm so not an experienced author. Not yet. Anyways, I figure I'll only do eight chapters for this story. I have a short, beautiful plot planned and I really don't want any unnecessary chapters. Those are so boring!