Gilded Cage

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  “I-I’m fine.”

  “Good.” Brandon gave her the hotel bathrobe. “Put this on for now.” He glanced at his wristwatch again. “Time to move.”

  “Okay.”

  He yanked open the room’s door and stiffened. Lillian heard hurried footsteps in the corridor. Men’s voices. Brandon closed the door, frowning.

  He motioned her to come closer. “Trust me on this one. All you need to do is pretend to faint. Can you do it?”

  Lillian nodded. Panic rising. Had they been discovered?

  Without warning, Brandon seized her and lifted her off the ground. Lillian went along with his game. She closed her eyes, pretending to have fainted. He stormed into the corridor, shouting, “We’ve been attacked. Help us!”

  She couldn’t see without blowing her cover, but judging from their reactions, those men weren’t well versed in English. Brandon repeated it in broken Japanese. Lillian heard men running, then four gunshots. Bodies tumbled on the plush carpet. She had to open her eyes.

  Lillian saw four men splayed in the corridor. Stanford’s men. She bit her lip, squelching an urge to scream. Brandon didn’t even flinch. His face was masked by an eerie calmness just like when he was in the elevator.

  “Can you walk? Actually, we need to run.”

  “Y-yes.”

  As soon as Brandon put her back on the feet, he yanked her hand and dragged her into a run. Lillian struggled to keep up with him. They stormed through another maze of corridors until he kicked open a service maintenance door. The room was a housekeeping station. Rows of clean linen were stacked on metal shelves. There were dozens of huge canvas carts filled with dirty laundry.

  Brandon tugged her to a nearby empty cart. “Get in.”

  Lillian climbed in. Brandon checked his watch again. He also jumped in and started covering them with dirty linen from the next cart. He settled beside her, stuck one arm out and kept snatching more linen until they were hidden. Lillian groped around to find Brandon’s hand. She needed to hold him, something, to calm her overtaxed nerves. Brandon found her instead and drew her against his chest. His lips pressed to her temple. His breath was shallow.

  “Close your eyes, don’t move, don’t make a sound until I tell you we’re safe,” he whispered. “We’ll be out soon.”

  She squeezed his hand as ‘yes’ and remained quiet. The room was silent. The only noise they could hear was the occasional hum from the central air conditioning system. Lillian shut her eyes and vowed she wouldn’t squeak a noise no matter what.

  They waited.

  It felt like forever until she heard the doors open and the chatter of workers entering the room. Brandon stiffened. She could feel him move his gun up. The linen that buried them drowned the noise of the housekeeping crew. Lillian could only make out one or two bits of it. They were going to haul the carts into the trucks. An immense relief washed over her as she fully understood Brandon’s plan. It was a brilliant one. She’d doubted him at first, as the thought of smuggling her out from the impeccably tight security measures seemed impossible at the time. She was glad she’d been wrong. Brandon Shea was different.

  She’d fallen in love with him already.

  The caterwauling noise from the cart’s wheels loomed when the crew started wheeling the carts out. Lillian waited for their turn in sheer anxiety. Her heart leapt when their cart moved. It shuddered and bounced as they exited the housekeeping station to the service elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the waiting trucks.

  She stilled and prayed hard that they would make their escape alive. The air around them thinned and sweat started to bead her face. Lillian arranged her breathing, slowing it down to conserve the oxygen. Brandon’s breathing was also sparse. She slid her face on his chest. He tightened his hand briefly, giving her comfort. Their cart rolled and rolled with its rickety wheels until a sudden jerk startled her out of her wits. The cart was being pushed into a truck.

  “Shit…heavy…one.”

  Lillian heard a man complaining about their cart.

  “…lazy. Get to…jackass,” snapped another.

  “Shut up.”

  The bickering faded away and they were left with placid silence. Lillian didn’t dare move. Brandon hadn’t told her to. She remained frozen until she heard the engine running. The truck shuddered then drove off. Lillian halted her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. They’d made it. She was free.

  Brandon moved. He jabbed his hand above his head and clawed his way out from the dirty linen. Lillian gasped for breath. Fresh air became abundant to enjoy. She filled her lungs leisurely.

  The truck was dark, but some filtered light seeped from the crack of the loading door illuminating the inside of the steel-encased interior. Brandon was smiling when she opened her eyes.

  “I guess we made it,” he whispered.

  He was the most breathtaking sight she’d ever seen. My hero. Mine.

  Lillian grabbed his face and planted a deep kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  She could swear Brandon was flustered. His face coloured. Very cute, considering who he was. He hadn’t even flinched when he’d tasered Yamazaki. Or when he’d been forced to kill Stanford’s men. Yet he blushed when she kissed him.

  “You don’t need to…but you’re welcome.”

  Her grin sprang out before she realised.

  “We’re not out of the woods, yet. We need to get out of here first.”

  Lillian wasn’t worried. With Brandon by her side, she could face anything.

  Chapter Three

  Brandon held her hand tight, almost too tight, as they strolled through the busy intersection of Shinjuku Station. The bright store signs in Kanji had intimidated him at first. But he had a knack with languages. It was one of the reasons he had always been deployed deep behind enemy lines.

  He was worried about her. Lillian looked pale and weak, even though she was in good spirits. She hadn’t complained about the whole ordeal, nor had she complained about the wound at the back of her neck. The blood had soaked through her bandage and the collar of the white bathrobe she was wearing. She needed to have that incision tended properly. Perhaps get her some painkillers as well once they reached their destination. But for the time being, they needed to keep moving. Brandon imagined by now, his former boss and Stanford must’ve already issued a full-blown manhunt for him and Lillian. He’d no doubt become the most wanted person in Japan. Brandon stole a glance at Lillian. It’d be worth it. That poor girl. He couldn’t let her continue to suffer.

  “You all right?” Brandon curled an arm around her waist and drew her closer, ignoring some people giving them weird looks. He was dressed in a tuxedo while Lillian was barefoot and only wrapped in a bathrobe. They stuck out like a sore thumb against the general population.

  A pretty smile plastered her face. He’d never seen her so happy before. He guessed if he were in her shoes, he’d be happy, too, if someone had cancelled his wedding with a jackass like Stanford.

  “I’m fine. Where are we going?”

  “A friend’s place. You need stitches. Can you hold on for a while? His place isn’t far from here.”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Shea.” Lillian squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Oh, but he worried. He worried about a lot of things ever since she had begged him to smuggle her out. Especially after he found out how her father had been treating her. Using starvation as a conveyance to control somebody was uncalled for, especially to one’s own flesh and blood. Brandon held her tight and steered her through the sea of people. After he’d learned how Lillian had been treated all these years, he’d decided to help her. He knew it wouldn’t be a cakewalk. As her bodyguard, he knew she’d been implanted with a tracking chip. Removing the chip was easy, but plotting the whole escape route had been a daunting task.

  When Brandon consulted his friend, Sal Donahue was more than delighted to help him with the plan. Donahue was his army buddy, a former combat medic who had fallen in love with a Japanese wom
an and had made Tokyo his permanent home. He ran an arcade shop in Center Gai. Donahue would patch Lillian’s wound and get them the necessary documents to get them out of the country.

  If Lillian wanted to get out of the country.

  Honestly, Brandon hadn’t planned anything beyond spiriting her away on her wedding day. Everything had happened so suddenly. Maybe when he and Lillian had a chance to sit down and talk about what she wanted, he could make arrangements from there. In the meantime, they had to keep moving.

  Lillian looked so flushed when they entered Donahue’s shop called Otakutopia. Donahue caught his eye and motioned them to the back of the store. Brandon rushed Lillian, but she was fascinated with the games, figurines and posters in Donahue’s shop.

  “Ms. Blackwell.”

  She startled. “Sorry.”

  Donahue locked the door of his office as soon as they got in. He eyed Lillian and grinned. “So, this is our runaway bride? It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “Please, call me Lillian.”

  “Lillian. I love that pretty name. Have a seat and let me take a look at Brandon’s cut job. How do you feel?”

  “I-I am fine.” Lillian sat in a chair.

  “If you can rate your pain from one to ten, what would it be?”

  “I…uhm. Three?”

  Donahue frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “It doesn’t bother me at all. Really.”

  Donahue sanitised his hands and opened the bandage. His lips thinned into a hard line as he gave a sidelong glance at Brandon. “Not bad for a grunt. I was expecting something worse.”

  “I’m honoured, Your Highness,” Brandon countered dryly.

  “Give me five minutes and I’ll stitch this in no time. I’m going to give you a local anaesthesia, Lillian, so don’t worry.”

  She meekly answered a thank you and threw a smile at Brandon. He felt uneasy when Lillian grabbed his hand and held on tight as Donahue started working on her neck. He’d been uneasy ever since she’d kissed him in the laundry cart. He was supposed to protect her, not harbour dirty thoughts. But that kiss, innocent as it was, had made his blood boil. It was the first time he’d had a hard-on since his ex-wife, Charlene, died four months ago.

  A hard-on at an inappropriate time, in the wrong place and with the wrong woman.

  Goddamn it. Brandon pushed everything to the back of his mind and covered her hand with his, giving her some much needed comfort.

  Lillian watched him while Donahue sutured her wound. Her big doe eyes smothered him with unspoken adoration. God, was she beautiful. He could stare and get lost in those blue eyes of hers forever. Brandon tore his gaze from her and pretended to check on his pocket before more inappropriate thoughts popped into his mind. He felt ashamed of himself. When he’d decided to help her, his decision was solely based on goodwill, not because she’d offered him a reward or anything else. The thought of wanting her made him feel like a pervert.

  “There. All done.” Donahue cut the suture. “You’re doing very good, Lillian.” He tore open a packet of large rectangle bandages and covered her stitches with it.

  Lillian looked up. “Thank you, Mr…”

  “Donahue. You’re very welcome.”

  “Are you a doctor? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “I was a combat medic. I served with Shea for many years. Long time ago.”

  “Ah.”

  Donahue cut his eyes to Brandon. “I got what you asked in there.” He pointed to a black duffel bag on his desk. “I need to get back and watch my store.”

  “Thanks, Sal.”

  His friend chuckled. “I guess we’re even now?”

  “Not even close.”

  “I knew you would say that. Call me if you need anything.” Donahue left.

  Brandon inspected the duffel. Donahue had gotten him spare clothes for Lillian, weapons and ammo, a set of fake IDs and some cash. It wasn’t much, but it would get them somewhere for a while until Brandon knew what to do next. Donahue owed him a big favour from long ago and said if he ever strayed to Japan, he should contact him for old time’s sake. His friend was surprised when Brandon called five days ago for help. Donahue thought he was crazy, but Brandon couldn’t just turn a blind eye and let Lillian suffer. It wasn’t right.

  “Put these on.” He handed her the jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

  Donahue had even gotten her a pair of sneakers and socks that seemed were her correct size.

  “Thank you.” Lillian took off her bathrobe.

  Brandon looked away but the glimpse of a shaving blade tucked in her garter belt caught his attention. “Why do you have that with you? Stanford isn’t worth killing yourself.”

  She slipped a Hello Kitty shirt over her head. “That blade wasn’t for me. It was for Stanford.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lillian blinked. “I was going to kill Stanford. But thanks to you, I don’t have to.”

  God, he didn’t know she’d planned that. Brandon plucked the blade from the strap and pocketed it. “You won’t need this anymore. I don’t want you accidentally hurting yourself.”

  She only smiled.

  But Brandon barely paid attention to her when he saw a deep white scar on her thigh. “Did your father do that?”

  “This? Oh.” Her face darkened. “No. It was Stanford.”

  “Stanford? How?”

  “Infection from cigarette burns.”

  Cigarette burns. A surge of anger rushed through him. His fist clenched instinctively. “Why would he do such things?”

  “I don’t know why. I was too young at that time. It was probably fun for him to do. Stanford’s a creep.”

  Brandon knew Stanford was a creep. Everybody knew that. The toad man was a notorious sadist as well. Being an underworld boss allowed him to indulge in his sickest desires without having to worry about any consequences from the law. Brandon just didn’t expect Stanford would use Lillian as one of his toys, considering she was the daughter of his colleague.

  “Did he rape you?”

  “He tried once, but I kicked him in the balls. Father made me starve for five days because of that.”

  The revelation made him want to slit Stanford’s throat with the shaving blade himself. He didn’t understand why William Blackwell would have allowed such an atrocity to happen to his daughter. He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for her, being surrounded by ultimate luxury but grossly deprived from her basic rights. The right of wellbeing. The right of safety. He never guessed that the revered William Blackwell, a world-renowned philanthropist who was often pictured in the media looking caring and passionate about the children and schools he sponsored, would neglect his only daughter.

  Brandon narrowed his eyes. Neglect was such an understatement. Blackwell obviously knew what Stanford had done to Lillian, but he’d chosen to do nothing about it. Was Blackwell afraid of Stanford? Or did he just plain not care? Brandon felt disgusted with his former boss.

  Lillian donned the jeans. “So, Mr. Shea. What should we do next?”

  “That depends on you. Do you have any family that you can go to? Ones that won’t sell you off to your father.”

  She shook her head. “No. My father is the only family I have. Are you married, Mr. Shea?”

  “No.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  He snorted. “No.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Do you mind if I hang with you for a while?”

  “Didn’t think it was an option. I guess you’re stuck with me, kid.”

  “Next week is my twenty-first birthday.” Lillian scowled. “I’m old enough to be your girlfriend.”

  “And I’m old enough to be your dad.”

  “When you got hitched at fourteen. Do you have anything against younger woman?”

  Brandon frowned. Yeah, what did he have against younger woman? Nothing, really. His uneasiness intensified. If he pictured and treated her as a kid, he wouldn’t have inappropriate thoughts about her. He
was her bodyguard. Her protector. And as her protector, he shouldn’t have urges to get in her panties. His sudden lust for Lillian bugged the hell out of him. “We should get going. We should lay low for a while.”

  Lillian slipped on her socks and sneakers. “May I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you help me? You didn’t even ask how much money I was going to compensate you with.”

  “I didn’t do it for the money.”

  Her fair eyebrows arched prettily. “No?”

  Brandon hesitated. “At first, I thought you were like other spoilt rich kids. Then I found out what your dad did to you. It was unacceptable. I had to do the right thing.”

  Lillian jumped on him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

  Brandon stiffened, patting her back. Goddamn. She even smelled good. Her perfume was jasmine and tea roses, so feminine and tempting, like the curves of her body pressing against him.

  “Lillian?” he called. “We should go.”

  She released him tentatively. “Sorry. But you look so hot in this tux.”

  Looked hot? Did she just say I’m hot?

  The door opened and Donahue’s face poked between the cracks. “You need to go. Use the bathroom exit.”

  His combat instinct kicked into high gear. Someone must’ve followed them in here. Brandon snatched the bag and Lillian’s arm and dragged her to Donahue’s cramped bathroom. He saw another battered door next to the toilet and yanked it open. A gloomy passage loomed before them. The short, narrow space brought them to the private gaming area where Donahue had set personal booths for adult Virtual Reality games. The hall was littered with guilty-looking teenagers and gamer addicts. Rushing footsteps against the floor stormed towards them. He made a split-second decision and pushed Lillian into an empty VR booth.

  He slammed the booth closed. Lillian tumbled in a VR chair. Her eyes widened. The four walls of the VR booth were plastered with risqué pictures. Brandon wished she didn’t have to see this. It could come as a shock to her for having a sheltered life all these years.