Chapter 11 #2
He hesitated, then pulled out the chair and sat opposite me. Dave remained standing behind him, watching the entrance. For the first time that morning, I felt almost normal.
“Do you want a seat?” I offered Dave.
His lips pressed together in his version of a smile. Before he could answer, Kai tapped the empty stool beside us. “Sit.”
Dave lowered himself onto it.
I turned toward the woman behind the counter. “Can we have a dozen egg tarts, please?”
The older woman looked at me, really looked, as though trying to place me, then nodded. “Fresh batch just came out.”
“Perfect.” I glanced toward the display case. “Oh—are those pineapple buns?”
“Yes. Fresh from the oven. They go quickly.”
“I’ll take a dozen of those too.”
Kai let out a quiet, disbelieving breath. “How many stomachs do you have?”
“We’ve got time.” I smiled. “And we can share.”
He shifted on the wooden stool, looking completely out of place. The shop wasn’t built for people like Kai. It was too small, too exposed, too ordinary. No private rooms or discreet entrances. Just wooden stools, a tiny counter, and a glass display case filled with pastries.
Normal.
Almost painfully normal.
I sat very still, partly because I was tired and partly because I wasn’t sure the fragile-looking stool could handle much movement. Staying still had always been part of my job anyway. No one wanted a surgeon with shaky hands or an unfocused mind.
Kai, meanwhile, couldn’t stop scanning the shop. His eyes moved between the entrance, windows, counter, and narrow passage to the back. Occasionally, he pointed at one of the faded posters and exchanged a few words with Dave in Mandarin.
For once, I didn’t want to think about business, Dannie, Roger, or Laura. I just wanted to eat something that reminded me of when life had been simpler.
The woman returned with a large plastic bag filled with neatly stacked boxes and placed it on the counter. Her eyes lingered on me before she disappeared through the narrow opening at the back, leaving the old man behind the counter quietly watching us.
“How much?” I asked.
“I’ve got it,” Kai said.
I ignored him and handed the old man some cash. He hesitated before taking it, then counted the change slowly. Maybe he was simply old. Or maybe he was buying time. I couldn’t tell.
“Thank you.”
I carried the boxes back to the table and opened one. “Tuck in.”
Kai looked at me. “Here?”
“Yes. Where else?”
He glanced around the tiny shop, then picked up an egg tart and studied it. The pastry was still warm, the custard trembling slightly in the centre. He took a cautious bite, and his eyes widened before his shoulders relaxed.
“Huh.”
His surprised expression made me smile. “Good?”
He nodded. “Very.”
For a second, I saw something familiar in his eyes—the old Kai, the one who used to tease me and didn’t take himself so seriously. He reached for another, and I picked up one for myself. The crust was warm and flaky, the custard smooth and sweet.
“Oh my God.”
Kai glanced at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I took another bite. “This is really good.”
“You’ve already told me that.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me again?”
“Because it’s still true.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, barely, but I saw it. For one stupid second, I almost smiled back the way I used to.
I missed this. Sitting across from him without analysing every word or wondering whether I could trust him. Just Kai. Just me. Egg tarts between us. A tiny shop in an old part of Hong Kong.
I started talking—small things, pointless things, anything to fill the silence and make us look like two ordinary people having breakfast instead of two people sitting in the middle of a potential war.
“Have you ever been to a shop like this?”
“Not here in Hong Kong.” Kai picked up another egg tart. “There was this old noodle place in Shanghai we used to go to.”
“We?”
“Me and Dave.” Dave nodded from behind him.
“It was tiny,” Kai continued. “Probably smaller than this place.”
“What happened to it?”
“The owner retired. And his son didn’t want to take over,” Kai shrugged. “Apparently he’d rather work in an office.”
“Smart man.”
Kai looked at me. “Why?”
“Because running a noodle shop sounds exhausting.”
“More exhausting than your job?”
“Exactly. I already made one questionable career choice.”
He laughed quietly, and the sound was so normal that something inside my chest tightened.
I hadn’t realised how much I missed making him laugh.
I swallowed another bite and pretended to concentrate on the egg tart, but inside, I was counting, watching, waiting.
I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for—the right moment, the right opportunity, something that would tell me I still had control over what happened next.
Kai kept talking, but his eyes kept drifting toward me. He wasn’t really listening anymore. He was watching me, probably wondering why I was suddenly being so pleasant.
I wondered the same thing. Then I felt it.
A shift. Subtle. Almost nothing, but my body noticed before my mind did. I stopped chewing and lifted my eyes.
Across the street, a man stood near the corner. He wasn’t doing anything, and that was the problem. He wasn’t on his phone or waiting for a taxi. He was simply watching us.
I lowered my gaze before he caught me staring. “Do you want another one?” I asked Kai.
He looked at the box. “I’m already on my third.”
“That’s why I bought twelve.” I smiled. “Eat.”
He shook his head but reached for another.
I glanced toward the window again. The man was still there, and now someone was standing beside him.
My stomach tightened.
“How did you find this place?” Kai asked. “Is it on some kind of list?”
I couldn’t look at him as I noticed more people appearing. Not together. That was what made it frightening. One stood near the corner. Another leaned against a building. Two more were farther down the pavement, positioned at different angles, all watching us.
“You and your list.” I forced a smile. “Wendy and I stumbled across it the last time we were here.”
I drew in a slow breath. My heartbeat wasn’t getting faster; it was slowing, each beat heavier and clearer.
I’d felt this before. Back when I was with Dannie, there had been moments when a room suddenly went quiet or someone looked at me a second too long.
I hadn’t understood it then, but now I did.
My body understood danger before my brain could name it. We were being watched. Deliberately.
I took another bite, keeping my expression calm.
Kai and Dave were still eating. Would Kai be furious if he knew this had been my plan?
I’d deliberately brought us back here, into a part of the city where Dannie’s people might still have influence.
Had I exposed myself just to force someone to come looking for me?
He had to know something. He wouldn’t have followed me here otherwise.
Would he?
Then the people outside began to move—not hurriedly, but casually toward us.
All of them.
My stomach dropped as one man crossed the street, another followed, and then another. The old couple behind the counter had disappeared. I looked toward the narrow passage leading to the back, but there was nothing.
My hand tightened around the pastry until the fragile crust crumbled between my fingers.
Then someone appeared from the side. He crossed the pavement and walked straight toward the shop, without hesitation or any attempt to hide. He pushed open the door, and the little bell above it gave a soft chime.
I froze.
Because I recognized him.
And suddenly, the strange feeling I’d been carrying since we arrived made perfect sense.