Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 16

"It was a surgical strike," Torin says, "Fast, clean and well-coordinated."

"Yeah, that's because the Yakuza had their men disguised as the security guards."

Torin swivels slowly. "How'd you know they belong to the Yakuza?" Holding a plate, he walks to the opposite side of the island counter, sliding it over the Carrera marble.

"Japanese. Well-trained. With enough juice to infiltrate a high-profile event." I shrug—pain lances through my shoulder. "It's a dead giveaway. Clearly searching for the book. Gaza didn't think it through when he made me a target. It clearly made others curious about what I stole. What are the odds that they believe in... what's it called? The big five: Magnus Quinque. I'm for sure saying that wrong."

He looks at the food pointedly. "Eat."

Doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm dying. I pull the plate closer, picking up the fork I use it to probe the unfamiliar cuisine before I dig in. The only ingredients I recognise is basil pesto with a tinge of balsamic vinegar. After a few shovels, practically vacuuming more than half of the food in one go. I pause, swallowing.

"What makes little sense is how they knew where I was going to be?" My mind starts reeling. "How did they know that Orian took me? And most importantly, how would they know that I was coming?" 

Torin places his fists on the edge of the marble, knuckles whitening. "Information only Orian and I had...as well as our detail. They knew in advance."

I look up, putting the fork down. 

His head lifts, under golden light, his eyes look like burnished amber.

"Which means...."

"No," he shuts down. "None of them are rats for one reason only. They're scared of Orian. Eight years ago, when some low-level punk tried to snitch on him. Orian didn't kill him. Instead, he murdered his entire family and even his friends. Everyone he loved, Orian killed. Not only to punish him, but to send a message to everyone working under him and against him."

A lump forms in my throat, and it refuses to move. "Torin. These guys were there beforehand, posing as security guards, which means they were informed prior to the event. It's not like they were tipped off by someone there."

He shakes his head with calm certitude. "They're loyal to my brother and I."

I breathe deeply. "Then how did you find me?"

He walks over to the refrigerator, bending to open the freezer, opening a draw. "Easy, we followed the GPS."

My brows snap together. "Excuse me?" I look down, realising. My hand rises to touch the emerald stud. "The earrings."

He closes the door, holding an ice pack, and quirks his brows at me. He rounds the high-top counter. The kitchen itself is bigger than the entire ground floor of my townhouse. With nickel accents and an all-white aesthetic that deserves to be on a famous cooking show.

Resuming my eating. I jolt at the shot of artic cold that drills into me from flesh to bone. Torin stands behind me. His one hand on my waist, keeping me still, and the other holding the icepack to my shoulder blade. Once the burning cold fades, easing into a cooling and soothing sensation.

"Nasty bruise."

I turn my head to look at him from over my shoulder.

"If they could reach me so easily. What happens with my mom, what if—"

"That's why you're here. For both of your protection, the further apart you are, the safer she will be. They're not after her."

"But they could use her as bait to get to me," I argue, fervour building up like pressure.