Ruth Lee (TAMING THE MAFIA PRINCESS )

Ruth Lee

The name "Frank Xia" didn't mean a thing to me. Sound like he's some investment banker or, like one of those self-help gurus with a podcast, anything but some guy who just shot his way out of a house raid.

"Are you some sort of financial genius or something?" I snapped, well-laden with sarcasm. Not that it mattered. It was better than sitting in silence while this stranger drove us deeper into the night.

Frank didn't even glance at me. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead, his grip sure on the wheel. "No."

"Then what are you? Because I know for a fact we didn't grow up as childhood friends."

"I don't blame you for not remembering me," he said, his voice as flat as the highway unfolding before us for miles.

I snorted. "Oh, good. I thought you were about to hit me with some sob story about us being best friends back in the day."

Still no answer. Frank tapped the brake as we approached an intersection. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. I followed his gaze and, several cars back, saw a car-a sleek black sedan-that had been tailing us for ten minutes.

"They're still following," he growled low.

I huddled closer, clutched the satchel tighter while my fingers were quivering, "How could you know it's them following us? Perhaps those people are in the same direction? "

"You don't survive much in my line of work without knowing if you're getting hunted," he said calmly but laced with something sharp that I wasn't quite so sure of-is it fear? No, it is focused.

"Your line of work?" I pressed. "What exactly is your line of work, Frank? Because so far, all I've seen you do is kill people and drag me into a car chase."

"It's not something you'd understand," he said. That infuriating calmness in his tone was starting to grate on me.

"Try me."

Frank didn't answer. Instead, he made a sharp right at the next junction, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The black sedan followed, its headlights glaring in the side mirrors.

"Okay, great. So, we are being followed," I said, my voice rising with every word. "Care to explain why?"

"Because they want you," he said simply.

I blinked. "Me? Why the hell would anybody want me? I am not special. I'm just a woman trying to put together what's left of my life."

"Your family's name carries weight. More than you know," he replied, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "And that makes you a target."

"Right," I said, with a bitter laugh. "So, what, I'm just supposed to trust you? A man I've never met before today?"

"You don't have to trust me," he said. "You just have to stay alive."

His words fell on deaf ears. I turned towards the window, neon city lights blurring into streaks of color. We were somewhere on the outskirts of Shanghai now; the city's heartbeat was growing remote as we sped towards the unknown.

---

Frank pulled into a dimly lit gas station, its fluorescent lights flickering like something out of a horror movie. He cut the engine and turned to me for the first time since we'd gotten in the car.

"Stay here," he said, his voice low and commanding.

I crossed my arms. "Not a chance."

"Ruth," he said, and my name on his lips sounded like the whisper of cold. "This isn't up for debate. Stay. Here."

In an instant, he'd opened the door and was out, slamming it behind him. I sat there in shock, my eyes following him as he strode into the store, deliberate in the beat of his steps, tension across his shoulders proclaiming this man was ready for battle.

I peered into the rearview mirror. The black sedan pulled into the lot and parked several spots away from mine. My heart went into high gear as the driver's-side door swung open, spewing a tall, muscular man clad in a black suit that seemed to scream the word "thug".

Instinctively, I hunched down, my breathing in short gasps. What was I supposed to do? Stay in the car like Frank said? Or make a run for it?

The passenger door opened suddenly, and I let out a startled yelp. It was Frank. He shoved something into my hands - a small object wrapped in cloth, cold to the touch. A gun.

"If anything happens, use it," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "Do you understand?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don't know how to use a gun!"

"Point and shoot," he said. "It's not rocket science."

Before I could utter a word of protest, he was off again, striding toward the man in the black suit. They met in the middle of the lot, their voices low and tense. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the body language said it all. This wasn't a negotiation. It was a standoff.

---

Frank Xia

He was bigger than I had expected, shoulders wide, neck thick, hands the size of bricks. "Enforcer" was etched across him in bold, red letters.

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be," the man growled in a low timbre of voice. "Hand her over and we'll let you go on your merry way, unscathed."

I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "You know, I've always found threats more convincing when they come from someone who actually knows what they're doing."

The man's jaw tightened. "Don't test me, Xia."

"Or what? You'll huff and puff and blow my house down?" I said, taking a step closer. "Let me save you the trouble. She's not going anywhere with you."

The man didn't say anything. Instead, he reached into his jacket, and I moved on instinct. My hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could draw the weapon hidden there. We struggled for a moment, the sound of grunts and scuffling feet echoing in the quiet night.

"You should've stayed in the car," I growled, driving my elbow into his ribs. He grunted in pain but didn't go down. Instead, he swung at me with his free hand, catching me on the side of the jaw. Pain exploded in my head, but I didn't let go.

---

**Ruth Lee**

From my vantage point in the car, I could see them grappling in the dim light. My fingers tightened around the gun Frank had handed me, my palms slick with sweat. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to do something, but what? I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't brave. I was just. me.

Yet, as I watched Frank struggle against the larger man, something inside me shifted. I couldn't just sit here-not anymore.

I opened the car door and stepped out. The gun shook in my hand. The coolness of the night bit my skin, but I ignored that also to keep my focus on the events before me: Frank was getting whaled on. The enforcer had him pinned to the side of a parked car, his huge hands wrapped around Frank's throat.

"Hey!" I shouted, my voice shaking, yet loud enough to be heard. The man turned around, and I jerked up the gun as awkwardly as possible in a threatening posture.

"Let him go," I said, still trying to get my voice level. "Or I swear I'll shoot."

He laughed, this deep, throaty growl. "You don't even know how to use that thing."

"Try me," I shot back, astonishing myself with the steel in my voice.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then, in one smooth movement, Frank drove his knee into the man's stomach, breaking free from his grasp. He moved quickly, disarming the man and sending his weapon skidding across the pavement.

The enforcer staggered back, clutching his side, and Frank turned to me, his face unreadable. "Put the gun down, Ruth."

"Are you crazy?" I said, my voice rising. "He's still standing!"

"And he's not a threat anymore," Frank said, firm but calm. "Put it down."

I hesitated, my hands shaking so badly I thought I might drop the gun anyway. But then I saw the look in Frank's eyes—not fear, but something close to it. He didn't want me to become like him.

Slowly, I lowered the gun.

---

The enforcer groaned, dragging himself to his feet. Frank stepped forward, his expression dark. "Go back to whoever sent you. Tell them she's under my protection now."

The man gave him a dirty look, but didn't argue. He stumbled back to the black sedan and drove off, leaving us alone in the empty lot.

Frank turned to me, his face filled with a mix of relief and anger. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you were about to die," I returned.