Chapter 17
Tommy
The downside of starting my day feeling good for a change is the slow, inevitable dread that something will take that goodness away any second now.
It starts when we go downstairs to Young-gi’s big, industrial-style kitchen and I nibble on some toast while he makes more coffee.
It’s so domestic, so peaceful. It’s not what I’m used to.
Different from Kira’s house, where I have to pretend to be someone else. Different from his house–the man who took me–because I’m not in danger here and Young-gi isn’t trying to take anything from me… yet. I’d be stupid to think he didn’t have some angle, or ulterior motive, right?
Anyway, that’s where the dread starts. A ‘too good to be true’ suspicion that leads to paranoia as Young-gi gives me some of his casual clothes to wear, and they smell like him and they’re soft and he says I look nice.
There’s going to be something horrible happening any second, I just know it.
There’s no use trying to relax, or I’ll just get side-swept by whatever bulldozer is coming for me.
Downstairs, we meet Yosef at one of Young-gi’s cars, and he gives me a secret grin like we’re friends now. I’m too startled to react, I think I must flinch or something, maybe make a face, because he coughs out his smokey laugh as he sits up front with the driver.
In the back of the car, I stew and chew on the ways I could get hurt, let down, and screwed over by Young-gi. There are so many ways.
But in the end, I think I’m my own worst enemy, because I don’t make any plans to leave.
Or maybe, this time, not leaving is the right thing to do.
Who says I can’t have something for myself every now and then?
Some rich psychopath wants a plaything and helps me get my head on straight?
Well, it’s a win-win. Isn’t it? We’re just using each other, right?
It’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing I can’t handle. Nothing permanent.
I’m startled when we take a turn away from the glitzy office tower we used the last time I sat through one of his meetings. And I’m slow on the uptake for some things, sure, but this hits me almost right away; it’s not that kind of meeting.
Trying to surreptitiously glance at him is a huge failure because he’s already staring at me and he notices when I look. With a frustrated huff, I raise my eyebrows at him and gesture at the scenery passing by the window.
“Where’re we going?”
“A meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?” I sound suspicious as hell, even to me. When he just sits there, looking nonplussed and maybe confused, I elaborate. “Like, is this a legitimate business meeting or a bratva boss meeting?”
That clears things up. “Ah, the latter.”
“Wait, seriously? Whoa…” I’m not even sure how to react. What does a person do when they get sort-of kidnapped to an illegal Russian mob meeting without warning? What am I about to step into?
I can’t stop my imagination from running away with me, blurting out the first questions that come to mind. “Where do bratvas have meetings? Are we going to a nightclub? A warehouse? A secret room behind a bar? An off-grid compound? A–”
“Tommy.” He stops my flood of questions, and I tingle all over when his mouth softens, almost smiles but not quite. “I think you’re going to be disappointed. It’s not nearly as exciting as you seem to think.”
Yeah, right, I’ll be the judge of that. Curiosity and a morbid anticipation build in me as we drive, but so does more of that damn dread.
Because… because here is my reminder, huh?
Here is the line I shouldn’t cross, the reason why I shouldn’t actually trust Young-gi.
He’s a criminal, and not just the incidental kind like me, working under the table as a prostitute to get by.
No, he’s intentionally breaking laws, killing people all premeditated and shit, for money maybe, or maybe no reason at all.
That danger in him, the thing that both terrifies and… yeah, excites me? This is where it comes from. His real self. And I’m about to see it up close.
My fingers grip my seatbelt. I scowl as I watch everything go by. What kind of gruesome things has Young-gi done? What kinds of gruesome things is he doing? What am I about to find out about my mysterious, maddening benefactor?
Will it be something I can live with? Are the crimes he commits the kind that I can let go? Or…
“Young-gi.”
He’s listening, and the look I give him shows the danger I have in me, too. “When we get to this meeting,” I ask slowly, “will I learn things about you that’ll make me have to kill you?”
He blinks, and I think I’ve actually surprised him, like he never would have guessed that’s the question I would ask right before being brought into his secret world. He stares at me, speechless, and I keep going because like hell I’m going to be anything but crystal clear about this.
“Am I going to find out that you’re like the other three men I’ve put down?
That you’ve helped people like that? That you work with people like that?
Because I’ll kill you if that’s what you’re doing, Young-gi.
I don’t care what you’ve done for me, I don’t care if I get out alive, I’ll kill you myself. ”
His dark eyes drink me in, everything about his body language sharpens like he’s ultra-focused on me, on this moment. The pressure in the car changes like the weight before a stormfront. Something crackles between us, but only god knows what.
“Tommy,” he answers, so somber and stern, “if I’m doing something that makes you want to kill me, I’ll kill myself first, and save you the trouble.”
************
Young-gi
Tommy’s mouth drops open, and I can tell he’s shocked. Well, now we’re even. He’s always pushing me off-center, off-balance, until I can’t even begin to guess what he’ll say or do next. I never would have guessed he’d ask me that. He’s so… I don’t even have the words for him.
“Oh,” he says weakly, relaxing back into the seat.
“Yes, oh.” It’s not quite a vow of eternal devotion, but it might as fucking well be. Asking if he’s going to need to kill me? Fuck me, he’s so breathtakingly insane. And while he doesn’t comprehend all of the implications of what I said, of what it means to me, that’s alright. He’ll find out.
Because I’m not letting him go. He’s too bright, too brilliant. Too broken. Too perfect.
Sometimes he’s a bonfire, sometimes a candleflame.
Dangerous then delicate. Ravenous for blood, then peaceful once he’s been contained.
He’s locked in a car with me and threatening my life, like I’m the one that should be worried.
And I don’t doubt him. He’s a wild thing, untamed.
If he wanted my life, I’d bet my entire fortune that he’d get very close to taking it. He might even succeed.
It’s disarming, charming. I … I think it might be adorable.
He doesn’t have anything else to say after that.
He just stares sullenly out the window, but he knows I’m watching him.
Sometimes, my phone chirps and I need to take my eyes off him, but once I look back up, he’s always quickly turning away.
Trying not to get caught waiting for me to look back at him again.
Don’t worry, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere. I have no clue what I’m feeling for him right now, but it has teeth. It feels permanent, locked-on. Like a beartrap snapping shut. Whatever I’m feeling for him, it’s like that. So, no, I’m not going anywhere.
Neither is he.
When we get to our destination, Tommy’s brow furrows and he gives me a look I can’t interpret. He hops out, and I follow him, watching as he looks around the mundane parking lot like he’s looking for hidden secrets. He won’t find any, that’s the whole point.
“Are you fucking with me?” he asks, looking up at the old, three story brick building in front of us.
It’s from the late-stage eighties boom, and it shows.
Not in bad shape, not really, but certainly…
worn. Almost faded into the background of this older area of town.
Forgettable, missable, professional but boring.
“No.” I lead him toward the door.
“This is an accountant’s office,” he says, looking at the no-nonsense black and white sign posted on the curb.
“Yes.”
Yosef goes in first, and I hold the door for Tommy, who ducks inside suspiciously, only to draw up short and give me a disgruntled look.
“This is so… boring.”
I almost laugh. Me! Laugh? I don’t even remember the last time I really laughed more than just a single puff of air. But he brings out the urge in me. My grin is irrepressible, and I’m pleased when it seems to dazzle him as it usually does.
“That’s the point.” We walk through the bland office lobby, with beige walls and hotel artwork, an old oak desk manned by an aging woman in a pastel pink blazer.
She gives us a kind smile and reaches under the desk.
With the press of a hidden button, a buzzer sounds, and the door marked ‘storage closet’ pops open.
Tommy’s eyebrows fly up, and he bounds after Yosef like a hound after a scent. “I knew it,” he mutters as we go into a dark, narrow hallway. “I fucking knew it. Accountant’s office, my ass.”
The hall spits us out in the war room, and with a faint buzz, the wall slides shut behind us, so the hallway that led here becomes nothing but a storage closet in truth.
Tommy jumps, spins, then whirls back around, his mouth agape.
I try to look at it through his eyes, but to me, it’s nothing extraordinary.
I have two men stationed on the far left wall, monitors dominating their space.
Off to the other side, there’s a drafting table covered with coded maps being adjusted and poured over by a team of three, while another team member is talking rapidly on his phone in a mix of Chinese and Russian, likely interpreting for a deal happening on the other side of the world.