Utah Terror : Utah Terror (9781101606971) by Jon Sharpe Read Free Book Online Page A

out. He breathed mouthfuls of fresh air, climbed on the Ovaro, and headed deeper into the camp.
    Most of the Chinese studiously avoided looking at him. Except for the Tong. Here and there he saw men in black and they always glared. He imagined word had spread about him. But apparently they were under orders not to bother him because they left him alone.
    The House of Pleasure was a wonderment. The Chinese architecture, the finely wrought detail in the carvings, the gables, the place was a work of art.
    Surprisingly enough, a hitch rail had been provided. Fargo no sooner dismounted and took a step than a pair of grinning young women in tight dresses came out and attached themselves to his elbows.
    â€œLadies,” he said grandly, smiling, “you must be the greeters.”
    They giggled and shook their heads to signify they didn’t savvy.
    â€œWould Madame Lotus happen to be in?” Fargo asked, knowing full well they couldn’t answer.
    â€œI am always in,” said a husky voice with a lilting accent.
    She was a stunner. Her age was hard to guess but Fargo pegged it as thirty to forty. She wore an exquisite Chinese dress. Her hair, her face, her nails were immaculate. She reminded him of one of those little Chinese dolls sold in Chinatown, brought to life. Her teeth, when she smiled, were flawless.
    â€œMadame Lotus, I reckon,” Fargo stated the obvious.
    She smiled and bowed and snapped at the two girls, who bowed their heads and stepped away.
    â€œI don’t stink that bad,” Fargo said.
    Madame Lotus’s delicate nose crinkled in amusement. “It is not that,” she said politely. “I will escort you personally.”
    â€œI’m flattered.”
    â€œYou should be.” Madame Lotus took him by the right elbow but he lifted her hand off and lightly pulled her around to the left side.
    She was sharp; she glanced at the Colt on his right hip and her smile widened. But she didn’t say anything other than, “You have heard of the delights of my House, perhaps, and would like to taste of them for yourself?”
    â€œI’d like a look-see,” Fargo said. “It’s early in the day yet and I usually do my poking at night.” Which was a bald-faced lie. He’d make love any hour of the day or night.
    â€œI would be most honored to show you around,” Madame Lotus said courteously.
    It was like entering another world. Or stepping across the Pacific Ocean into China. Everything was Chinese. By any standards, her whorehouse was luxurious. The furnishings, the decorations, had been brought all the way from the mother country.
    A fragrant scent tingled Fargo’s nose. To the right was a parlor where more than a dozen brightly dressed young women sat primly awaiting gentlemen callers. Their painted faces, their rouge, they were more China dolls.
    â€œIf you should see a lady you like,” Madame Lotus said, “you will find it is never too early for pillow talk.”
    Her melodious voice stirred Fargo where he had no intention of being stirred. “How about you?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œIs it ever too early for you?”
    Madame Lotus’s eyes widened slightly, and she laughed. “Oh. That can never be. I do not offer myself. I must reserve my affections for someone special.”
    Fargo could guess whom. “That’s a shame,” he said with forced regret. “I’d give you a poke here and now.”
    She was pleased by his flattery but tried to hide it. “I am most sorry that I am not available. We have dozens of other ladies for you to choose from.”
    The hallway was as elegant as the parlor. Everywhere a feast for the eyes. A turn took them into another corridor where the walls were made of rice paper.
    Fargo stopped and touched the wall on the right. The paper was smooth to the touch, and thinner than he would have thought.
    â€œBeautiful, is it not?” Madame Lotus said