Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 15

"Orian." Torin reappears, buttoning up his blazer. "Kare wa koko ni imasu."

Orian lets me go, slowly. A deep shadow falls on his face.

"Well, I need the bathroom."

Orian glances at me, then looks away. I follow his line of sight to one of his guards. When did they get inside? Orian nods to me, motioning for him to pursue.

"Don't try anything," he warns.

I take a gentle hold of his blazer, my hand running along the lapel, straightening it out unnecessarily. "Wouldn't dream of it." I'm not going to have to.

He stares down at me with mute potency, his jaw locked in a clench. I spin around, sashaying away with exaggerated hip sways. I sneak a look over my shoulder. The guard makes a brisk approach. I look forward, speeding up, dissolving into the crowd. My aim is the Tudor archway that seems to be a secondary entrance or exit, whatever it is, it's my way out of here.

My eyes dart to a vacated table, belongings carelessly left on display. I look around furtively. Breezing by, I pluck the suit jacket off the head of a chair, sliding my arms into the sleeves. Once I pass through, out of the ballroom, and in the clear. I move on. I zigzag through the maze of cream-coloured corridors, passing oblivious servers. Finally, I make it to the back entrance that's protected by security guards. I slow my pace and calmly make my way to them.

When I make my pass, they don't look at me. They look at each other as if in confirmation. I push the door open, greeted by the sweet scent of escape. Even though I'm still on the property at some deck area with artificial shrubbery. The gate that leads out to my freedom is under a hundred meters away. And I head for it. But seconds in. The doors reopen behind me and I look back. The 'security guards' follow me out. I accelerate my pace. I come to a jarring halt.

 Two more men materialise out of thin air, blocking the gate.

One of them comes up behind me and snatches the collar, yanking me back. Deftly, I manoeuvre, slipping out and spinning around to face him holding an empty, oversized jacket. He tosses it aside.

"You could've just asked."

"We are not asking," his partner says in a thick Japanese accent. "You are coming with us."

"I'm really not in the mood to be kidnapped... from my kidnappers."

With superluminal speed, he has a pistol in his hand. The barrel inches from my forehead. My hands fly up to my temples, palms exposed. Dread twists my insides into a thousand knots.

"Okay!" I exclaim. "Okay, okay, whatever you want—"

Swiftly, I grab his wrist, redirecting the line of fire, thrusting the barrel to the left. And jerking aside to have my back to him, distracting him with an elbow to the chest. Disarming him, I swivel around to point his own pistol at him, then at his partner. In a microsecond, the weaponless one jump kicks the pistol out of my hand and it goes flying, clattering on the ground. Shaking out the flare of pain in my hand, I duck, evading a kick that swoops overhead. I dart back. A hand grabs my shoulder from behind. I weave under it, elbow connecting with his gut. He doubles over and I smash the same elbow into his face, sending him staggering.

I move into my first stance, speed and agility hampered by heels.

"You're lucky he needs you alive," one of them say.

"You're lucky I'm wearing heels."

He looks over my shoulder. I lunge at him but something tight coils around my wrist, restraining me. One tug forces me around to see the assailant holding onto a dark blue tether like a lasso, but it's not made of rope. What in the wonder woman?