“Jon?”
Jon paused. He recognized that voice. His head swiveled towards the sound and the color drained from his face. The couple he’d come to visit was standing there looking like hell.
Two of whom you know personally…
Standoff forgotten, he rushed forward. He spotted the blood staining the side of his best friend's shirt. “W-what happened to him?” he asked, aghast.
Jin shook her head, her hair wild and disheveled. “I-I don’t know. Shen—”
The olive-eyed hellion cut Jin off and stepped forward. “We can figure that out later.”
“You,” Jon said, rounding on him, “shut up.”
“Fine. Stay here. But we’re taking Jin.”
“You’re not laying a hand on her.”
The rifle-wielding maniac stepped forward. “It’s for her own good! We’ve got to get her out of here!”
“I don’t know who you are, but you shut up, too! Nobody is doing anything without—”
“They’re over here!”
Jon turned and saw a man in all black pointing to where they were standing. Seconds later, two men rounded the corner, one pulling out his gun and opening fire. Mind made up, Jon leapt into his truck and mashed on the gas pedal to bring his truck between the hail of bullets and everybody else. “Get in!” he roared, and the others dove for truck and piled in. “Get down! Don’t get up until I tell you to!”
They’ll need your help, that’s why you are here.
Jon yanked his pistol out of his holster and returned fire. He caught one attacker in the leg as they tried to duck behind a pair of green mail drop boxes. He didn’t wait for them to collect themselves. He slammed on the gas and sped down the one-way street, yanking his door close at the same time.
A voice from the back seat called out, “There were guys on the roof!”
As if she’d summoned them, a hail of bullets rained down on the roof of the SUV. “Son of a— everybody stay down!”
The back window of the SUV shattered. In the side-view mirror, Jon saw two other attackers fall to the copper-haired woman’s shots. Tahir—that was her name. He thought that’s what he’d heard the green-eyed man call her. And the green-eyed one was Key.
Jon turned a corner at random, flooring the accelerator when the street widened—only to slam on the brakes two blocks later faced with multiple DO NOT ENTER signs. He whipped the SUV through a left turn, barely missing parked cars, and slowed again when the street narrowed to claustrophobic proportions. There was no traffic, though, so he slowed even further and looked over his shoulder.
Aiden was slumped across the back seat, and Jin hovered over him with a bloody hand pressed against his wound. Aiden’s head was thrown back and pressed into the cushions, his teeth clenched and his eyes squeezed shut.
Behind them, Tahir had her weapon aimed out the busted back window as she argued back and forth with Key. Jon wasn’t really concerned about that. They could rip each other to shreds and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
Key turned away from Tahir, cutting their argument short. “I don't think we're being followed.”
Jon grunted. “We're not.”
“Pull over, then! We need to check on Aiden!” Tahir’s command was terse and frantic.
“I'm not pulling over. I said we're not being followed, but that doesn't mean that won’t change.” He glanced at Aiden again. “Jin…how is he?”
She swallowed harshly, like she couldn’t moisten her throat. Her hand peeled away from Aiden’s wound, just enough to survey the damage before she clamped it back down. “I don’t think it hit anything…but there’s so much blood! I don’t know what to do!”
Jon looked up at the rear-view mirror again, this time at Jin. He saw the tight press of her lips, and the sweat across her brow. He inhaled deeply through his nose and let it go slowly. He had a decision to make and he hated himself for it. Aiden needed help, but help would involve a hospital. Hospitals involved paperwork. Paperwork…
The one thing—the only thing—stopping him from driving the SUV through the front of the nearest hospital emergency room and dragging a doctor out to his best friend was one question. What kind of trouble would that cause? Was Aiden in trouble? Was it something illegal? Was this bureau business or something else? What direction should he walk him in to save him? Okay, that was really five questions. Or six, depending on how picky you wanted to be.
Jon squared his shoulders. “Give me a few minutes and we can call for help, okay? We need to get somewhere safe.” He eyed Key in the rear-view mirror. “Somewhere safe and quiet. Because I'm going to want so many answers, you're going to be sick of answering.”
Key opened his mouth, but Jon cut him off. “Yeah, I really don't give a shit what you're about to say. As far as I'm concerned, I'm housing three sociopaths in my backseat. I can make a left, and deliver you all to the police wrapped like Christmas hams. So if you don't want that, you do what I say. My word is law.”
“Key! Just do it!” Tahir demanded. “Why are you hesitating? We can help.”
“That’s against protocol,” Key said, all authoritative and stern. “We'll be at a hospital soon, trust me.”
“And I'm telling you to forget the protocol!” Tahir grabbed Key’s arm and tried to jerk him up from his seat.
Key snatched his arm back. “Stand down, Tahir!”
Jon sneered at their bickering. He really wanted them to shut up. He made a right turn, and pulled over to a curb so he could flip open the console between the front seats, his hand landing on the plastic handle of a first-aid kit. He tossed it in Jin’s lap and she responded with a watery smile. “Something in there has gotta help until we can get somewhere.” He rolled the SUV forward slowly, watching as the traffic light a few blocks ahead blinked amber.
Jin nodded—and then Key took the kit and tossed it back to the front seat.
“A fucking first-aid kit? He has a hole in the side of his body and you think a first aid kit is going to—” Key exhaled shakily. “Jin, I need you to switch with me, sweetheart. Let me take care of this.”
Jon saw a flash of movement in the rear-view as Key tried to crawl over the seat but he didn’t see Jin move.
“I can’t help him if you don’t move,” Key said softly.
“I don’t know you. How can I let you just…?”
“I’m someone who can help. Trust me.”
Jin hesitated for a long moment, and her answering sob was heartbreaking, the only thing that could be heard in the cabin of the car for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Don’t let him die.”
“I won’t,” Key replied, and maneuvered her behind him. He turned towards Tahir and his voice lowered to nearly a growl. “You've got less than five seconds to figure out a way to cushion the pandemonium.”
In the rear-view mirror, Jon saw Tahir nod.
Whatever Key did next made Aiden groan. Key leaned out of Jon’s view and said in a much softer voice, “It's okay, Aiden. It’ll be okay.” Jon heard Key exhale, and a light filled the interior of the SUV. He winced as it reflected in the side and rear-view mirrors.
Jin’s loud gasp made Jon want to pull over, but the traffic light was green now, and for the first time this trip he actually knew where he was. He made a right onto Canal Street, and glanced into the rear-view mirror. What he saw stole his breath.
“Ho-ly shit!”
The SUV swerved as Jon stared, gobsmacked, into the rear-view mirror as the color returned to Aiden’s face. Stared as the flow of blood stopped. Stared as Aiden’s pain-stricken face relaxed. Stared as Key raised Aiden’s shirt.
No bullet wound, just raw, red skin.
Jon tipped his head back in raucous laughter. “Oh…oh, hell no. When I say you're going to get so tired of answering questions, I mean it! What the hell did you just do? Oh shit,” he yelped as the SUV crossed the yellow lines and into oncoming traffic. Jon yanked hard on the wheel to correct himself but he couldn’t shake his incredulous laughter. “No. No. God, please
don't answer! Not right now.” Grabbing blindly in the pile of broken glass for his cell phone, Jon flicked through his screens, checking the list of safe houses from the secure database. At the next red light, he mashed the address into the GPS and prayed it would be more agreeable than before.
“Arriving at destination,” the GPS announced later, but Jon had already matched the address with the house at the end of the cul-de-sac they were on. He pulled into the driveway, turned off the lights, and waited. All his senses went into overdrive as he visually inspected his surroundings. There was no way short of tailing the SUV that anyone could possibly know he’d chosen this location, but Jon was leaving nothing to chance. When no car careened around the corner, he quickly called out instructions to get everyone in the house. Tahir and Jin helped Aiden hobble into the house, up the stairs and into one of the many rooms of the safe house.
Jon turned on Key the moment Aiden's head hit the pillow. “Answers,” he all but growled.
Key pivoted, jogged down the steps, and marched toward the living room, Jon hot on his heels. Huffing, Key stopped short and Jon almost ran into the back of him. Key spun and leaned against a wall in the hallway, affording Jon a disinterested frown. The agent mirrored him. “Do you really want to know?”
“No. I don't really want to know,” Jon said with a sarcastic laugh. “No, please, save yourself the effort. I am completely apathetic about it. Couldn’t give a damn!”
“You know you can be a real ass, Jon. I’m try—”
“I also,” Jon added, cutting Key off, “don't want to know how a person I've never met in my life knows my name. Or how his gigantic manhands started glowing like a neon sign and how—magically—my best friend isn’t dead right now. Totally not curious.”
Tahir shouted around the corner from upstairs. “Oh god, just tell him so he can shut up.”
“No one cares about protocol? None of you?” Key yelled back. Groaning, he reached into the backpack slung over a shoulder—and winced at what was inside the bag. “If you can close your eyes for a few seconds, I can at least start with something more…familiar?”
“Close my eyes?” Jon scoffed. “Yeah, right. Not doing it. Like I would trust you.”
Jon’s brows shot up when Key placed a hand over his mouth. “Look, I'm not going to hurt you. It goes against everything that I am. Just…do it, okay?”
Jon released the most agonizingly annoyed sigh he could muster before lowering his eyelids. “You’ve got ten seconds.” He counted loudly to ten, growling each number out. “All right. I'm opening ’em up. You better have your shit together by the time I do because if you don’t…”
Jon cracked open a lid, blinked, and then smashed it closed. No way. He opened both eyes up. “Are you kidding me?”
A really, really rough draft version of Seoul FBI’s newest clerk stood before him, smiling nervously. “She” cleared “her” throat and Jon howled with laughter.
“So, to answer your question.” Key held his hand up and it began to glow. He washed his hand over his face and the harsh planes of his face softened.
“Um. Hi? I'm Key. And I'm an angel.”
Chapter Thirty
George’s Tire World
Brooklyn, New York
October 5; 2:15 a.m.
The hand towel probably tasted like stale water, but it was the only thing Charlie could find to shove between Shen’s teeth before she got to work. Shen adjusted his jaw so the towel didn’t sit so far back in his mouth, but he didn’t complain. Considering what he’d been through tonight, Charlie considered it a blessing.
In silence, Shen gripped the back of the chair, his raw shoulder hovering over a rusty card table they’d found in a corner of the factory.
Charlie moved quietly and efficiently, grabbing another pre-threaded suture needle and puncturing the skin around the gunshot wound. She winced as he stuttered and gasped when she pulled the stitches tight. In a metal basin to her right were the remains of a bullet with lumps of flesh stuck to it.
Charlie snipped the ends of the suture and tied it off before she continued. “You sure you don’t want to wait for the pain meds to kick in? This isn’t going to get better.”
As the needle made another pass, he waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for her to continue. Charlie frowned and made another stitch.
Charlie tried her hardest to make sure this was as painless as possible, but her conscience said otherwise. Her conscience was glad he was in pain. Glad that the reason he was laid across a card table in a grungy tire factory with his arm half blown off was because his plan hadn’t worked, that there was a woman out there that hadn’t fallen victim to Shen’s demented plans of revenge.
“This should be a big enough lesson for you, but I’ve known you for too long to think you’d understand that,” she muttered before she made the final suture and tied it off. She dabbed the wound with a wash of brown antiseptic before reaching for a large sterile bandage. They couldn’t afford for the wound to get infected because they couldn’t go to the hospital. International criminals should probably avoid getting shot because of that fact alone.
Shen yanked the towel out of his mouth and threw it in the basin. “A lesson? Yeah, it taught me a lesson. Do it right the first time,” he said derisively.
Charlie chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh devoid of any humor. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”
“How long did it take you to figure that one out?”
“And you’re stupid as hell. If you were going to escape, we could have gone anywhere—Paris, Dubai, India—but no, we’re stuck here in Zicon’s raggedy office that you’re bleeding all over.”
Charlie circled him, squatting low so she could look him in the eyes. “Why am I not enough?”
She honestly wanted to know. It wasn’t like she didn’t consider herself worthy, she knew she was. She was educated, resourceful, and damn good in bed. The symmetry in her face was precise enough for her to be considered pretty, and she had a flawless, toasted-brown complexion. But for some strange reason, even when presented with all of her, he couldn’t shake the ghost of his ex.
“God, don’t start,” he said as he fingered the metal nose splint. “This has nothing to do with you. This is a principle of honor. Respect. Trust. Those were all betrayed. I ended up in jail because one woman couldn’t stomach who I was.”
“Who she thought you were and who you really are just so happen to be two different people. The sooner you realize that, actually realize that this is as much your fault as hers, then—”
“Shut up, Charlie. I’m not arguing with you about this again.”
Angry now, she slapped the bandage on his shoulder and ignored his shout of pain. “Jesus Christ, Rabbit. Do you hear yourself? You lied to her. You demanded her trust and selfishly withheld information about what you are and what you do. You betrayed her first. Damn your pride, Shen, the only person that cares about that is you.”
“Watch yourself.” He stood, shrugging back into his shirt still stained with blood. “Just because I like what’s between your legs does not give you the authority to talk to me like you know me.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh.”
Shen groaned. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yes, you did. One question, though.” She ripped the disposable surgical gloves off and threw them at him. “When this is all over, when you’ve exacted this catastrophic scheme of yours, then what? What’s going to drive you? What’s going to keep that miserable stupid flame burning? Something will, that I know. You’ll need something else, someone else, to blame. Gonna kill every single person that crosses you, makes you mad, upends that perfect world of yours? Wonderful. We’ll all be dead.”
“Charlie—”
“Make sure that you keep that clean and dry. Wouldn’t want your arm falling off to stop you from getting what you want.” Charlie turned, snatched her jacket and purse, and stomped out the door.
Hours later Shen was still starin
g at the door, waiting for Charlie to come back. He had the sinking feeling that she might not. Maybe. She’d left before, and she’d always come back.
He’d met Charlie when a connection brought her in to check on some of his girls. At the time, she was a third-year nursing student and eager to help. She was eager in a lot of ways. College was expensive, and Charlie was paying for it out of her pocket—and in return for all of the medical care she provided, he paid her way through her graduate nursing program. It was an investment. Charlie had earned his trust, in numerous ways, keeping his secrets—from Jin, from Zicon, from Jerome…
She was his best employee, second to Zicon. Sleeping with her had been…a natural by-product of their relationship.
After he was locked up, Charlie was the one who visited him, kept him sane. But he didn’t want her around, waiting on him, putting her life on hold. He set her up with a nice job in New York, figuring that with Zicon there, she’d have someone to rely on. But nice or not, Charlie would hop a plane back to Incheon in a heartbeat if she felt like she wasn’t wanted.
Shen kicked at the trashcan in anger, wincing when the sudden movement pulled at the fresh stitches.
This was not the way it was supposed to go.
Okay, so he wasn’t still in jail, whoopty-goddamn-doo, but the very reason for his escape was still alive. He shouldn’t have listened to the voice over the phone. He should have marched up to the front door, blasted his way in, and dealt with them the best way he knew how. Directly.
Shen heaved a sigh and set his shoulders. One failure wasn’t a segue to complete ruin, so he’d rest, he’d heal, and he wouldn’t stop. He’d hunt her down and do what he needed to do for his sanity. Shen glanced at his bloody shirt.
He’d figure out what went wrong even if it killed him.
A sharp rap at the door brought him out of his thoughts. Charlie?
He ran to the door and flung it open, expecting five feet five inches of Malaysian brown skin to be on the other side. But no one…just an empty warehouse. He eyed the medication bottle in his hands with a raised brow. Was he hearing things?
The Halo of Amaris Page 14
