by Lanyon, Josh
It was pretty good as exit lines went, but the end result was he was still standing on the wrong side of a slammed door.
The deadbolt slid home with a smooth finality.
Ryo sighed and started down the walkway. The wind whistled a hollow, empty tune down the open corridor. He stopped, bracing himself with one hand on the low wall and pulling his boot on with the other. The windblown palm trees made a flapping sound, like broken birds. All around, the lights of West Hollywood glowed and glittered, like an overturned treasure chest.
Well, he wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway. He might as well go get a drink somewhere. A raging hangover might help dull the pain of tomorrow. He’d meant what he said. Regardless of how things had ended with Kai, Ryo was going to Captain Louden first thing. Kai was too stubborn or too scared to see his danger, and if protecting him required the sacrifice of Ryo’s career, well, it wasn’t like Ryo hadn’t understood the risk of getting involved with the Ice Princess.
He pulled on his second boot, glancing down as motion in the driveway below caught his eye. A silver monster truck, headlights dimmed, glided to a stop in the fire lane. The doors flew open and three males in black jackets and ski masks piled out of the truck cab.
What the hell?
Ryo leaned over the wall, trying to get a clear view. As the figures vanished around the corner of the building, the cadaverous lights of the parking structure picked out the gleam of the assault rifles they carried.
Ryo’s heart went into overdrive. He raced back down the walkway, hammering his fist on Kai’s door. “Kai! Open the door. Open the door. Kai, open the door. Now. Kai! Open the—”
The door swung open. “Okay,” Kai said. “Maybe I did overreact a little.”
Ryo pushed him inside, slamming the door and sliding the lock. “Help me shove this cabinet in front of the door.” Ryo was already at the other end of the giant lacquered cinnabar cabinet, giving it a test push. It didn’t budge. “Come on. Move.”
“What? What’s go—” Kai broke off at the unmistakable and ear-shattering drawn out cra-a-a-a-a-a-k of AK-47s from below.
“They’re coming for you,” Ryo told him. “That’s the security doors going down.”
Color drained from Kai’s face, his eyes going wide with terror. He leaped to help Ryo drag and push the huge cabinet across the slick floor. Ryo swore and sweated and strained. The thing weighed a ton. Maybe literally. It felt like trying to shift a house. Thirty seconds felt like an eternity, but at last they got the cabinet positioned in front of the door.
“It won’t hold,” Kai told him breathlessly.
From below the floorboards came more bursts of gunfire and crashing sounds.
“It’ll slow them down.” Ryo fumbled for his phone. His hands were shaking as he hit speed dial, calling Dispatch. Had he made a terrible mistake in choosing to stay with Kai? Kai was the target, but it was Ryo’s job to protect everyone in this building. What if some innocent citizen got in the way? Shouldn’t he be out there seeing that didn’t happen?
“Dispatch,” came a laconic voice on the other end of the phone.
“Officer Needs Help.” With his free hand, Ryo pushed Kai toward the bedroom, still talking to dispatch, giving their address, his badge number, the number of shooters, the make of their vehicle, Torres’ name, giving everything he could think of to facilitate rescue or—if they didn’t make it out of this alive, which sickeningly felt like a real possibility—apprehension.
Kai stumbled into the bedroom and Ryo slammed the door behind them. It took Kai two tries to lock the door while Ryo plastered his back to the low bureau, scooting it noisily across the room. Kai joined him and together they shifted the bureau the last few feet in front of the locked door.
Kai’s teeth were chattering. “Th-this isn’t going to stop th-them. None of th-this will help.” He hugged himself, as though physically restraining himself from coming apart. Ryo sympathized with the feeling. He was trained to respond to mortal threat and even he was afraid. Afraid that nothing he did would be enough and that in a matter of minutes he would see Kai die.
“We just have to slow them down enough.” Ryo dropped his phone in his pocket. Help was coming. Maybe it would arrive in time.
Kai wiped at his eyes and nodded. Ryo put his arms around him. He didn’t try to reassure Kai. They listened tautly to the fast approaching pop and crack of automatic gunfire.
Kai’s arms were locked around Ryo’s waist. His face pressed against Ryo’s. His breath was moist; his damp lashes flickered in butterfly kisses against Ryo’s eyes.
“Sorry,” he said unsteadily. “Sorry for this. Sorry for all of it.”
Ryo shook his head. From down the hall came the splintering sound of the front door being shot to pieces. “Let’s go out on the balcony.”
Kai drew a breath, stepped away from him. They walked out onto the narrow balcony. Lights were blazing on all around them. Buildings coming to life. Windows and doors opening—the wrong response to gunfire, people—tenants calling out to each other.
Ryo stared down at the courtyard below. The pool was a glowing aqua square framed by lazily-swaying palm trees. Four stories down. They had a much better chance of hitting the surrounding pavement than the pool itself.
He raised his head at a faint keening sound carried on the breeze. Sirens. They sounded a million miles away.
The balcony—in fact, the whole complex—bounced. That would be the lacquer cabinet blocking the front door tipping over.
“We could climb,” Kai said suddenly, grabbing Ryo’s arm. “We could climb onto the roof.”
Ryo leaned back, staring upward. About ten feet above them, the tile roof jutted out like a black wing. “Yes! Great. Go for it.”
Kai hopped onto the ledge of the stucco balcony, slowly straightening to his full height. He was a couple of inches too short to reach the overhang.
“Stand on my shoulders.” Ryo’s eyes jerked back toward the bedroom at the deep sporadic bursts of cra-a-a-a-a-a-k, cra-a-a-a-a-a-k. Bullets tore through the door and wooden chest and opposite wall. “Steady.” He reached up a hand and Kai took it, stepping onto his shoulders. He was light, but not that light. Ryo managed to stay upright and solid. He gripped Kai’s wrists tightly.
Kai let go of Ryo’s hands, his weight shifted and then swung off Ryo’s shoulders. He clambered onto the roof and then leaned over the edge. His hair tumbled around his bloodless face. With his enormous eyes and wild hair he reminded Ryo of pictures of dying or crazed samurais he’d seen all those years ago in hoshu ko.
“Hurry,” Kai told him. “Now you, Ryo. You’re taller. You can make it standing on the ledge.”
“Go,” Ryo told him. “I’m right behind you.” He scrambled onto the narrow ledge of the balcony as the bedroom door gave with a crash, followed by the second crash of the bureau sliding across the room.
Ryo jumped. He was taller then Kai, but still not quite tall enough. His fingers brushed rough tile and he had a sickening moment when he realized there was nothing to grip, he was sliding back down. Kai’s hand clamped down on his forearm with an unexpectedly powerful grip. Kai’s other hand locked on Ryo’s collar. Ryo dangled, kicking his legs in open space, and then Kai hauled him up, hanging on until Ryo managed to throw a leg over the parapet and wriggle over onto the roof. Kai dragged him farther back from the edge.
“Run,” Ryo gasped as their pursuers spilled onto the balcony below.
Kai was on his feet and bounding away like a gazelle, gravel dusting up from beneath his bare feet. Ryo was right on his heels, but as they passed one of the large air compressors, he dropped down behind it and pulled his weapon. His heart was pounding so hard he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands steady enough to hit anything. He had never shot anyone. In fact, he’d only pulled his weapon a handful of times in his entire time on the force.
The first masked shooter swung over the edge of the rooftop. Ryo fired. The man shouted and fell back.
Ryo closed his
eyes. He had shot someone. Maybe killed him. Numbly he listened to the sirens floating in the distance. Ryo opened his eyes. Bullets stitched through the air compressor and he flattened himself to the ground. He threw a quick look back at Kai. He could just make out the pale outline of him crouched at the far edge of the rooftop.
“Can you make it across to the next building?” Ryo called hoarsely. At least if Kai survived there would be some point to this, some good out of it.
Kai looked, judged the width, gave Ryo a thumbs up. Ryo gave him thumbs up in return and risked a look around the air compressor which was making mortally wounded noises.
It took a few vital seconds to pinpoint one shadowy figure climbing over the parapet. Movement to his right sent Ryo’s heart rocketing into warp speed. The remaining gunman was already on the roof and nearly on top of him. Ryo fired off a round and the gunman dived behind the concealment of a water tank closet.
Fuck. That had been too fucking close. Ryo sucked in a shaky breath.
Ryo risked another glance back and saw that Kai had successfully made the jump to the next rooftop. He expelled a breath. Thank God. At least Kai was safe. All he had to do was keep his head down and keep moving. Please keep your head down. Please keep moving. Please be safe.
Now all Ryo had to do was manage to stay alive for the next…how long? How long ‘til help reached him?
Another stream of bullets ploughed through the shattered air compressor. Ryo tried his best to become as one with the roof. He swore quietly, fervently. What the hell was the matter with these suicidal freaks that they didn’t give up and try to get away? They couldn’t miss that the police sirens were right beneath them now. They couldn’t miss the red and blue strobe lights cutting swaths through the nighttime.
Ryo breathed quietly, keeping his eyes on the water tank closet where he knew the other gunman was still hiding.
The night smelled of gun powder and burnt oil. Above the crackle of police radios, the buzz of voices, came a pulsing thrum of sound. Ryo raised his eyes. Across a stretch of starry sky he could see fast approaching lights and hear the droning beat of helicopter blades.
“You hear that?” he called out. “It’s over.”
The response was another fusillade of bullets.
It was over. But was it over if the bad guys didn’t know it was over?
The first gunman must have reloaded because he was advancing, firing steadily, bullets chewing stucco and tile and everything else in its way. Ryo looked desperately for new cover. He couldn’t get a clean shot off under that steady bombardment.
He inched to the other side of the compressor and risked a blind shot. He missed but the gunman ducked down behind another compressor.
Footsteps pounded past Ryo. He fired, thought he hit his target, but the shadow ran on. Ryo fired again, missed, and then was under fire himself from the first gunman.
The second shooter was going for the next rooftop and Kai. Ryo ignored the man advancing once more on him and fired again at the second shooter, but he sailed across the divide and landed on the rooftop where Kai was hiding.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Where are you, you sons of bitches?” Ryo cried out. He meant his fellow cops. He was talking to Mayer and Hernandez and Louden and every other cop he knew. He couldn’t do this by himself. He had nine rounds left.
The advancing gunman laughed.
The laughter cut through Ryo’s rising panic. He ducked back, took a couple of deep breaths and then threw himself forward, rolling to his side and firing off three quick rounds. One shot went wide but the other two hit the gunman dead center, plowing into his torso. He cried out, firing his AK-47 straight into the sky, and then fell backwards and lay twitching.
Ryo flipped over and jumped to his feet, running for the edge of the roof. To his horror he saw Kai and the second gunman caught in the spotlight of the hovering police chopper as they struggled on the brink of the apartment roof opposite. Why the gunman hadn’t simply shot Kai was a mystery. It seemed unlikely Kai could have managed to get the drop on his pursuer. But he was still standing, still struggling.
Ryo brought his weapon up, training it on the entwined figures, but he didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Kai.
His heart stopped as the grappling figures stumbled and fell. They continued to fight, rolling closer to the edge, seeming unaware of their danger. And then one man went over. Ryo’s eyes closed instinctively, but not knowing was worse than knowing. He opened his eyes. Kai’s red hair blew wildly around him as he stretched out on the roof, offering his hand to the man who dangled from the edge.
Kai’s mouth was moving, but Ryo couldn’t hear the words over the whirring beat of the helicopter blades, he could only see the urgency in Kai’s face.
The man reached up, but instead of taking Kai’s hand, he caught a strand of his hair, winding it in his fist. Ryo leveled his weapon, sure the masked figure would drag Kai over the edge with him. But the man only held on for an instant before his fingers loosened, and he let go, let go of Kai, let go of the roof, let go entirely, falling into the darkness.
Chapter Eight
Fubar on a Friday Night. Cheap, strong drinks poured by the best bartenders in town; prim dudes and hot cowboys in assless chaps all dancing to Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know”; crowded photo booth; dark-side-of-the-moon lighting; and glitter on the floor. The never-ending boy party. Some things never changed.
Ryo smiled faintly. The bartender, catching his eye, smiled back. Ryo nodded yes to another drink and casually glanced over his shoulder.
Yep. There, in the shadowy corner, sat a willowy figure dressed in black. A riot of chestnut hair curled and tumbled around his pointed face, reminding Ryo of one of those Renaissance Madonnas. Or maybe he was thinking of the Dark Ages? Anyway, wild hair and scholarly specs and an untouched blood-red cocktail sitting in front of him.
Ryo turned his back and sipped his vodka martini. Maybe he would go over and speak to Kai. Maybe he wouldn’t. Probably he wouldn’t. A year was a long time—and this had been a particularly long year.
But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember…
It hadn’t been love, though. Maybe something that might, in different circumstances, eventually have turned into love. A silk worm that never got the chance to be a butterfly. Ryo shook his head at himself and lifted his drink.
He would finish this drink and go. The fact was, he felt a little…old for this scene. He’d only stopped by out of curiosity. And because it was Friday night and he had nowhere he had to be—which was sometimes a lonely feeling.
But I’ll admit that I was glad it was over…
Someone crowded in on his right, jostling Ryo’s arm. “Dude,” Ryo said, turning.
He found himself confronting Cousin Itt. Okay, more like a thicket, scented of Japanese Flowers. The thicket turned its head and Ryo’s heart skipped a beat as he found himself gazing into a pair of wide brown eyes behind severe-seeming spectacles.
“Sorry. I wanted to buy you a drink,” Kai said.
For a second or two Ryo couldn’t think of a response. He was surprised and flattered and, yes, thrilled that the Ice Princess should have defrosted to such a degree as to come and say hi. There was a time when—but that time was passed and Ryo didn’t have the same fondness for games.
“Two’s my limit,” he said. “I’m driving.”
Kai didn’t respond and Ryo couldn’t seem to look away. Kai’s eyes were outlined in purple-black and he seemed to be wearing false eyelashes. He fluttered them coquettishly. Ryo felt a smile pulling at his mouth.
“How’ve you been?” Kai asked. A small black star sparkled in his earlobe.
“Okay. Good.”
“I heard you lost your job.”
“I got a new one,” Ryo said. He could say it now without a pang.
“I’m okay, too. In case you’re wondering.”
Ryo had wondered. Many times. He said reluctantly, “I heard you lost your inheritance.”
> “Yeah.” Kai’s lashes swept down and then up again. “I thought you would probably call me, but you never did.” Kai caught the bartender’s eye.
“I’ve got it,” Ryo said to the bartender. The bartender nodded.
“Thank you.” Kai propped his elbow on the bar. They were pretty much standing chest to chest, and it turned out to be harder than Ryo had thought to be this close to Kai and not touch him. The sultry eyes and velvety lashes were a turn on, no question. He liked the shining mane of hair, the winking jewel in his ear.
Was anything about Kai Tashiro not a turn on? Oh yeah. The mile-wide streak of crazy.
“What are you doing now?” Kai asked. “For a living. I mean.”
“I work for a firm of private investigators.”
Kai raised his eyebrows. He turned to sip his drink.
Ryo slid his card to the bartender. “Close me out.” The bartender assented.
Kai said, “Why didn’t you call, Ryo?”
The simple directness of that caught Ryo off guard. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Because you lost your job because of me. Because I nearly got you killed. Because you were walking out on me that night and the only reason you came back was to save my life.”
“Now you know why I didn’t call.”
Kai gazed at him gravely. He nodded, picked up his drink, drained it, and turned away from the bar. He walked with remarkable steadiness through the mash of laughing, talking, dancing men.
Ryo shook his head. He was still shaking his head as he hurriedly signed his bill, pocketed his card, and followed Kai out of the club.
The sidewalk was empty. Ryo looked up and down the street. There was no sign of Kai. Well…hell.
Cigarette and voices drifted from the patio. He turned and saw Kai standing in the shadow of the building, watching him.
“Practicing your ninja skills?”
Kai said, “I was wondering how serious you were about catching me.”
“I’m willing to meet you halfway, but I’m not going to chase after you again.”
