Fu's eyes narrowed. He grabbed hold of a whole roast duck and began to lift it to his mouth. Hung dropped the chicken and swiped at Fu's duck with a massive bear-claw fist. Hung connected, his dirty fingernails digging into Fu's duck. Fu grimaced and let go, slamming his fists on the tabletop. He glared at Hung as Hung tore into the duck. “Relax, Fu,” Naomi said. “There's plenty of food to go around. No need to get into a food fight.” “Food fight?” Fu growled. “That's not a food fight. This is a food fight!” Fu scooped up a double handful of boiled pig intestines and hurled them at Hung's head. Hung roared. He stood, flinging intestines out of his eyes. Hung picked up a whole smoked cow tongue and raised it high over his head. The long, thick tongue flopped back and forth, painting everyone in the immediate vicinity with specks of brown sauce. “Hung!” Mr Johnson shouted. “Put the tongue down.” Hung's beady eyes narrowed. “Drop it,” Mr Johnson said. “Now.” Hung dropped the tong

Listen to me,” Mr Johnson hissed. “The boatman is HaMo's friend. If the boatman doesn't help you, that means he may harm you. If he doesn't cooperate or if he seems the least bit suspicious, kill him.” “But—” “Kill him anyway!” Mr Johnson roared as Hung shoved Seh toward the door. “Now go! That's an order!” Naomi stumbled out of the banquet hall into the night. Fallen soldiers and bandits now dotted the grounds of the stronghold. Fu and Mrs Johnson were not among them. Naomi glanced down and saw a trail of blood glistening in the moonlight. It led to the storage shed. He followed it and burst through the door. Fu was kneeling over Mrs Johnson , next to the two soldiers Jay had finished off. “Help me,” Fu said, his voice hoarse. Tears fell from his face like rain. Naomi knelt down and saw that Fu had torn several strips from the bottom of his white silk robe. Naomi and Fu bound Mrs Johnson leg as best they could. “Are you okay?” Naomi asked Fu. Fu grunted and wiped his face. “

Let's find out,” Fu said. He looked the white monkey in the eye. “Can you take us to the village?” The white monkey tilted its head to one side inquisitively. “What's the name of the village?” Naomi asked. “I don't know,” Fu confessed. He scratched behind one ear and looked at the white monkey again. “Can you take us to the … ummm … Governor?” The white monkey seemed to grin. It reached out and grabbed Fu's hand. Naomi saw it squeeze three times before letting go and leaping into the trees. Late that evening, Naomi couldn't stop thinking about the mushroom skewers the monkey had brought them earlier. He wished they'd eaten them. He and Fu had been following the white monkey through the forest all day and he was famished. He was also exhausted. Naomi and Fu had taken turns carrying Mrs Johnson , and it had worn them both out. Oddly enough, Fu's mind still seemed sharp. He was rambling nonstop about his adventures with Mrs Johnson. Naomi was glad to get the information, but he was

Mrs Johnson “Yo. Wolfman. What’s shakin’?”I bristled, hearing the moniker that I couldn’t shake. I’d been called that after preventing an ambush on a secure compound during my stint in the Marines. The asshole who’d coined the phrase hadn’t intended it as a compliment. I had a feeling it would be on my tombstone.Sooner versus later.Hissing, I didn’t bother turning my head toward Gage Beckham, a local sheriff in Missoula. We’d known each other for two decades, running with the same crowd of bad boys who’d once terrorized Missoula. When my buddy tracked me down, usually inside a bar, that meant he needed something. “Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buyin’.”“Who said I needed anything?”“Cause I know you. Remember?”He slid next to me, immediately reaching for the bowl of peanuts I had in front of me. I concentrated on my bottle of Bud, taking another swig. I’d had a rough few days, tracking down a family of tourists who had no business being on the mountain. The fuckers had almost

The memory of his words echoed, adding another layer of terror.As Giovanni’s face rushed into the forefront of my mind, I tumbled again. Going down. Down. Down. Then I hit a hard surface with a thud, stars floating in front of my eyes and…“Goddamn snow,” I grumbled as I peered out the windshield then twisted the knob on the defroster onto high. If the girl was still out here, she was in a bad place. I grabbed the photograph, cursing under my breath. She had a freaking light jacket on. What the hell was she thinking coming up here wearing a single sweater and a coat meant for fifty-degree days?I pulled to a stop, trying to think where she’d go. I hadn’t seen a single sign of her. After slamming the gear into park, I climbed out, moving around the truck and searching the area. The snow had already picked up in intensity, the covering deep enough I doubted I’d find any trace of her tire tracks. I walked a few paces then hunkered down, brushing away the freshly fallen snow.Shit. I got