“Wha...what happened?”
He slanted her a look. “I knocked you out. The headache will pass in a few hours. Way I struck you the bruise won’t even be visible.”
“You hit me?! What the fuck, Kannon! Put me down right now!”
He did as she asked, and touching the side of her head, she winced at its tenderness. The four of them were still in 70 Rai by the looks of it, dawn had not yet broken, and the children were clustered close.
She dropped her head into her hands. “What did you do?”
“Only lawyers should ask questions they already know the answers to,” he replied.
“You’re a psycho, you know that? I had everything in hand till—”
“Till you drank whatever that man put in your drink. The customers were fooled by you, but the owners saw through your act the second we walked in.”
Gina leaned against a wall of corrugated metal to steady herself. “You don’t know that.”
“I saw him do it. You might have too if you hadn’t been so busy chatting.”
“I got useful information out of them and you know it,” she protested, holding up her hand with the web address written on it. “You didn’t have to kill them.”
“Can you walk?” he asked, pointedly ignoring her rebuttal.
She was dizzy and wobbly and ready to do a face-plant into the muck. “Of course I can.”
She straightened and started off. She staggered, stopped, staggered on.
“We don’t have time for this,” Kannon growled. He scooped her into his powerful arms as if she weighed nothing, and strode on, leading their motley crew out of the slums. Gina rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, because the way she was feeling, she’d end up barfing on his suit.
“Kannon?”
“What?”
“Who the hell wears a suit to the slums?”
“I’m on the job.”
“And you always wear a suit on the job?”
“Yes.”
“Why a suit?”
The arms about her tightened. “It commands respect. Besides, I’ve got a lot of them. Don’t want to ruin my good clothes.”
She opened one eye. His jaw was rigid, his gaze straight ahead. “What do you consider ‘good clothes’?”
“Why are we talking?”
“Because you hurt me, and payback is you get to distract me from my pain.”
“Payback is I’ve got to haul you back to the boat.”
“That, too.”
He made a grumping noise. She snuggled against him, figuring it was easier to carry a load close than farther away, and because even if she verged on losing her cookies, he felt awesome. She slipped her hand under his jacket to the hard muscles of his upper pecs, and brought her lips against his neck. “Maybe you could distract me other ways.”
“I thought you were dizzy.”
“Not if I keep my eyes shut. Lots of things I can do by touch.” To demonstrate she slid her tongue along the tendon in his neck.
He sucked in his breath. “Cut it out.”
“Why? Because you’re on the job?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit that you find me distracting?”
“Like a monkey.”
Stock it up to the pain, or to an evening dealing with the worst kind of scum in the worst part of the city, but Gina decided to call him on this one. She slid her hand from his chest and began to unbutton his shirt.
“I told you, cut it out, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you back that way.”
“Aren’t you in enough trouble with my old man as it is?”
“It’ll be worth it.”
“Uh-huh. How about I play nice if you just admit that you think I’m hot?”
There was a deep volcanic rumbling from Kannon that finally erupted with, “A Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cargo shorts.”
She paused her work on the buttons to take that in. “Those are your good clothes?”
“Yes. Now do up my shirt.”
She thought to negotiate when there was a sudden scuffling from behind them. Kannon spun around, and Gina sprung her eyes open in time to see Jarun sprint off into the darkness. Ryota, who’d been herding the children, cursed and drew his gun. There was nothing to aim at. Jarun had vanished.
Ryota moved to pursue. Kannon stopped him. “Let him go. He knows these slums. You don’t.”
Reluctantly Ryota obeyed.
“I told you to keep an eye on him while I carried Gina,” Kannon ground out. “Now he’s gone.”
Ryota bowed. “I’m sorry.”
“If we were still Yakuza, one of your fingers would be shorter. Better hope your mistake doesn’t put Tasanee at risk.”
Ryota’s shoulders slumped as the group trudged on.
“How did you know Ryota has a crush on Tasanee?” she whispered.
He readjusted her in his arms, not very gently at all. “I have a daughter. I know the look.”
His jostling and Jarun’s escape was doing a number on her, and she quickly closed her eyes. In the comfort of near unconsciousness, she murmured, “You think my father knows the look, too?”
Kannon’s answer was an exasperated hiss. “Yes.”
“So you’re not worried about what my father’s going to say when he learns you hit his daughter?” Gina asked. “Or let Jarun escape?”
Kannon didn’t answer. Seemed he was done talking for the night.
John Wakai brooded while his sister gave him a shoulder rub, surveying the city as he contemplated what more he could do. Her Cambodian friends were prowling the slums and red light districts, searching for any hint of Tasanee’s whereabouts, but thus far had come up empty handed.
Odds were excellent she was back in Bangkok. Before he’d wiped out Montri’s lieutenants, the Black Lotus had the support of virtually every gang in the city. Tasanee was too young and inexperienced to rally them, but she had Kannon on her side. Already Jarun and one of the Cambodian gangsters had gone missing, confirming his fear that Kannon was trying to find him as hard as he was trying to find Tasanee. Every day she was free the situation became more dangerous, and without her, Alak would remain stubbornly defiant.
Under normal circumstances Kannon wouldn’t have been such a problem. He’d outwitted several criminal masterminds in his time. Russians, Chinese, Nigerians, Japanese, Pakistanis, Iranians—all of their respective syndicates had failed to wrest control of the city away from the Black Lotus, and Wakai knew he’d been a key component in Alak’s success.
In this case, however, he’d little to work with. Forced to betray a man that he respected and hoped to serve for the rest of his life, he was now pressured for fast results by blunt-minded savages he scarcely trusted. At least he knew where the Cambodians were. Kannon could be anywhere, could be taking out the guards in the lobby right now, could be riding the elevator to put a bullet in him and his sister.
Somehow he needed to regain control of the situation, and fast.
His phone rang. It was a call he couldn’t ignore.
“We were hit,” said the familiar cold voice. “Four dead in 70 Rai, and all six clients. Kids gone. Didn’t know a thing until a customer called. He got there late and found the bodies.”
Well, he had his answer about Kannon’s whereabouts. Victoria came around in front of him, her eyes wide and worried. He tried to appear calm. “That driver of yours must’ve talked.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“How else could they have known about the place?’
His question was met with another. “How much did you tell Jarun?”
Wakai’s jaw tightened. Perhaps he’d confided in his childhood friend too much. Still, would Jarun turn on him that fast? Perhaps, since Kannon was involved. Wakai felt suddenly sick at what horrific pain Jarun must’ve experienced at the hands of someone who could unleash a one-man massacre and walk away unscathed.
Apparently his silence was all the thug needed. “We gave you a week to solve the
problem. It’s been five days now and it’s only gotten worse. Lost men. Lost clients. Lost property. We were counting on your brains to take the city quickly, not start a war.”
“Unlike you, I’m no sorcerer!” Wakai retorted, no longer able to hold back his sarcasm and frustration. “I’ve given your people a list of every ally Montri has in this city and they haven’t accomplished anything. Fourteen million people in Bangkok, and you want me to find one girl? For all we know she might not even be in Thailand! What do you want me to do, wheel around the city showing her picture? I can’t work miracles. These things take time.”
There was an ominous silence, and Wakai found himself holding his breath.
“You have two days left.” The line went dead.
Wakai set his phone back on his arm rest. “Victoria, we need to take care of this quickly. How’s Alak doing?”
Victoria’s girlish features twisted into an angry pout. “He’s so stubborn. I can’t break him. I’m not as good at it as Jarun.”
“That’s because he’s a torturer,” said Wakai. “You’re a sadist.”
He hadn’t kept the disgust from his voice and she’d picked up on it. “I can’t help it,” she whimpered. “Please don’t be mad with me, John. Please....”
“I’m not mad,” he replied wearily, the same words he’d said a million times over the years. “But I need him brought here, now. Arrange it, please.”
Victoria trotted off to fulfill her brother’s wishes. She was small, shorter than even the typical Thai girl. If ever looks were deceiving….
He seethed as he watched her go. It was she who had forced him into betraying Alak. She who had botched the simple capture of a teenager. She who’d failed to wring a single word from their prisoner. Yet, even as his anger rose, it dissipated like smoke.
She was his little sister. The last blood he had in the world. The one who’d always encouraged him, admired him and, in her own mad way, loved him. He should have put an end to her sick obsessions when he’d had the chance. Instead he’d only deepened her depravity. It was his fault that she was the way she was. He’d created a monster, one he’d sworn to his mother on her deathbed, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to.
Because, God help him, he loved her, too.
Gina snuggled under the covers of her bed aboard The Pink Pussycat, an icepack against her head.
They’d returned to the boat at dawn, and immediately Darae had set about fussing over the gaggle of children, arranging beds and breakfasts for all. The majority of them were from Cambodia, smuggled across the border with the promise of jobs and a better life in Bangkok. Between the lot of them, they hardly spoke ten words of Thai. That didn’t matter to Darae.
Being an ex-prostitute, brothel madam and wife of a gangster hadn’t stopped Gina’s stepmother from having a soft spot for kids. Unable to have children of her own, she doted on everyone else’s, and had spent millions funding orphanages, medical clinics, schools and scholarships. Sure it was good PR for the Zaffini’s little empire of vice, but Gina knew that whenever Darae gave, the gift was sincere.
With Darae occupied and her dad still asleep, Gina had slipped away, ready to spend the whole day unconscious. Four hours later, there’d been calls for lunch and washing of hands, followed by an excited thundering of little feet past her door to the upper deck. She planned to join them—until she stood. Then, she opted to pop another painkiller instead. God, one hit from Kannon and she felt dead. How did people like Jarun survive him?
There was a knock on her cabin door. “Come in.”
It was Ryota.
“Hey there,” she said, and stuffed another pillow under her head to raise herself up.
He bowed, and then again, as if for good measure. “Ms. Zaffini, may I speak to you about Mr. Takahama?”
This couldn’t be good. “Sure. Shoot.” They both winced at her word choice.
“Your father is very angry with him.”
She struggled to sit up and failed. “Ow, ow, ow. How did he find out? I asked Darae to call me when Daddy got up, so I could explain things.”
“Mr. Takahama told him.”
Gina closed her eyes. Of course, Kannon would do the right and honorable and most incredibly stupid thing.
“I was hoping you might speak in his defense,” he requested. “Things have reached a critical juncture.”
She didn’t want to ask what that meant when it came to her father and Kannon. “Okay, okay,” Gina tossed aside her ice pack and her duvet. Ryota snapped shut his eyes and turned his back. “Oh, for pity’s sake, I do have underwear on.”
“Yes, I understand. But my culture is different.”
Gina began rummaging through her suitcase. “Give me a break. Your culture has vending machines for dirty panties.”
“I have never used them.”
“I believe it. What does Tasanee think of your prudishness?”
His back stiffened. “That is not the way it is between us.”
Gina located a wraparound dress and wrapped it around. “I can tell.” She walked past him to the door. “Tasanee is from a different culture, too. You need to recognize that before you two reach your own critical juncture.”
Gina arrived on deck in time to see Kannon about to descend into the yacht’s powerboat, her father, leaning heavily on his cane, overseeing the departure.
“Hey, where are you going?” Gina called out.
“I’m sending him away,” Vincenzo said.
Gina caught up to them. “What? Why?”
Vincenzo looked pointedly at her head. “If that’s not obvious to you then he must have hit you harder than I thought.”
“He’s the best gun in Thailand!”
“If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be leaving this boat alive.”
“No, this is ridiculous. You have to let him stay. I need him. I mean I need him to find Alak,” she clarified. “Kannon’s our best bet to sort out this business with Wakai.”
Kannon cleared his throat. “Locating my boss is my business, not—”
“Damn right it’s your business,” Gina snapped. “And without us, it’s going to take you a whole hell of a lot longer to do that, isn’t it? In the meantime Wakai isn’t going to stop hunting for Tasanee, and who knows what Alak’s going through right now. You and Ryota can’t afford to go it alone, and neither can we, so let’s quit this pissing contest and get back to work.”
Two of Bangkok’s more powerful men glared at her. It was her father who spoke first. “So what are you proposing, bambina?”
She wasn’t sure what she was doing but she did it anyway. “I’m his boss.”
“I’ve already got a boss,” Kannon said.
“All you have right now is a man you need to find. And what we’ve got is a chain-of-command problem. The only way for this to work is if I give the orders.”
She turned to her father. “You know Kannon’s a man of his word. If he swears he’ll do what I tell him from here on in then you know he will.”
Vincenzo thumped his cane on the deck. “I know no such thing. He was supposed to protect you last night and instead he knocks you out. Couldn’t wait to tell me.”
“He told you himself because that was the alpha thing to do,” she replied. “And stupid, I agree.”
“If he was a real man he’d never hit a woman. That’s the first rule of The Pink Stilettos. Every one knows I won’t tolerate mistreatment.” Each of the last words was thumped out against the deck with his cane. Her father was pale and sweat was beading on his bare head. This was costing him. She needed to bring it to a swift end.
“Look, Dad. You and I both know that the 70 Rai club had to be shut down, and we both know that the only way that could happen was if the reason for its existence was shut down. Those clients, the people who ran that place, they were sick fucks. I tried to stop Kannon and if he’d listened to me, there’d be kids in a lot more pain than me with my little bump to the head.”
Vincenzo looked away, shrugged. I
t was his way of conceding the point.
She angled herself to Kannon so her father couldn’t see her bulge out her eyes and aim them at her father. “Do we have a deal?”
His neutral look in place, Kannon gave a barely perceptible nod. “Yes, we do. I swear I’ll obey Ms. Zaffini until Mr. Montri is free.”
Vincenzo Zaffini slammed his cane down even harder. “You so much as look at my daughter the wrong way, I’ll make you wish we’d parted company. You understand me?”
Kannon bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Take them damn glasses off and say it.”
Kannon did as asked. Vincenzo breathed out. “I need a drink.” He bulged his eyes out at his daughter. “And a cigarette.”
Kannon gave Ryota a meaningful look, and moving to her father’s side, Ryota began to escort Vincenzo away.
“Also, a girl,” he said to Ryota.
Oh, hell. Her father had found someone new to terrorize.
“Yes, sir.” Ryota said. “I—right away.”
As the two walked off, Gina stepped up to Kannon. “Order number one is you don’t hit me. Spanking I like, hitting I don’t.”
Something flashed in his dark eyes before he covered them with his sunglasses.
“Yes, Ms. Zaffini.”
“Order number two is for you to call me Gina. Or Gina honey. Or Gina babycakes. Or Gina sugar. Or Gina, you little sex kitten. Or Gina—”
“Yes, Gina.”
“And order number three is to go get breakfast while I shower and slip into something that doesn’t make me hot and sweaty. Well, any more hot and sweaty than I get around you.”
As usual, he ignored her.
“Then we’re off to see an old friend of mine.”
His mouth twisted. “We don’t have time for social calls.”
“We have time for this one,” she sing-songed.
He took the bait. “And who would this friend be?”
“Nobody special. Just one of the world’s most wanted cyberterrorists.”
Victoria snuggled against Alak Montri in the back seat of the limo, setting her chin on his shoulder. She fussed with the cloth bag over his head to ensure a comfortable fit. “You know, when we killed your lieutenants, I thought we ought to kill you, too. I mean, why stop when there’s only one enemy left? Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it?”
Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) Page 6
