Gangster In A Suit. (Book 1)

Chapter 17

"Hey."

Torin jostles my shoulder in irritation. I look back at him, eyes narrowing menacingly.

"What's wrong with you?"

I shrug dramatically. "I don't know, maybe it's because I saw a man get killed in front of me," I say, a sob grating the back of my throat. "And you look...unaffected like it was nothing."

Torin lifts a shoulder. His hand combs through his hair. "He did what he had to." He fixes his stare on me, judgement brewing. "You must have felt the same when you stole from Gaza. You just had to obtain evidence."

My mouth rounds. "You can't. You can't compare the two. I didn't slaughter people with my Katana sword like a damn samurai, then proceed to torture one of them in a medieval dungeon—I'm not even going to ask why he has that. Whereas I was following a lead, doing my job, without killing anyone."

"No, you only jeopardised the lives of your loved ones to do it—ruthless and ambitious." He strokes his jaw thoughtfully. "Very much like a Moon."

A fresh swell of anger brings me to my feet. "I am nothing like you or him."

"Your actions say otherwise." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "I think your friend Calum would disagree. Not much of a good friend since he encouraged this vigilante behaviour."

Anger melts into disquiet. "What are you on about?"

"The drone that was hovering over the shipping bay during the meet between Orian and Gaza. It traced back to Trans-Media. But it was being operated by a Calum Taylor. Your... sidekick?"

"He has nothing to do with this," I say reflexively. "I broke into his Gaza's yacht, on my own, and stole his—" I chuck a glance behind me at the open journal on the table, "—precious book thing."

"By yourself?" he asks sceptically. "Gaza travels heavy. And that ship is a floating fortress. Granted, much of his men escorted him to the meet. I reckon only a few remained to guard the boat. But you must have had someone who's good with circuits to have broken you into the ship, digitally undetectable. The footage was scrubbed. The only way they could make a positive ID on you is from that guard you got into an altercation with. And it requires computer genius skills to crack into his system like that; skills that you lack, but Calum Taylor has. The perfect duo."

I clap slowly, applauding mockingly. Hiding my fear behind a brash facade. "That must've taken a lot of brain power. Hope you not too tired from all that thinking."

He smiles tightly. "Clearly you weren't spanked enough as a kid." His face deadpans suddenly, tolerance terminated. "I'd be happy to rectify that."

A snort flees from me. Torin lunges at me and traps me in a headlock. One that I can easily escape from, but before I can blink—he moves me from the desk and slams me against the wall. The impact bursts through me, searing through my bruised shoulder—drawing out an echoing cry.

"I don't make idle threats."

He grabs me by the neck, steering me to the bed. He throws me on it, flipping me over so I'm on my stomach. Incapacitated by the pain. I hear him unbuckling his belt. Fear transforms into fuel and I flop around, thrusting a kick into his groin—he stumbles back. I force myself to stand back up, rolling my shoulder with a wince. My hand lifts to massage out the lingering aches.

"Honey, I've been thrown to the wolves before you and your psycho brother. And I survived." I look him up and down with an undaunted smile. "You." I free a short laugh. "You're just a pup."

His eyes smouldering with molten rage, I can see his anger flowing through him like lava. He takes threatening steps towards me but stops when the door starts opening. Multiple people come in. Guards enter, rolling in clothing rails, some concealed in garment bags. Others on full display. With an array of shoes ordered on the metal base. Orian strolls in last, dressed in a slim fit viscose black suit.

"Put it inside," he instructs, "I'll have someone pack and hang them up later."

I watch as they transport the clothing rails to the other side of the room. One of them opens the door to the walk-in wardrobe and they deposit their set, one by one.

I gawk back at Orian. "What, am I moving in now?"

"New clothes, cocktail dresses and formal attire. You'll need them for the upcoming events."

"Upcoming events—" blinking rapidly, I raise a hand. "What happened to my luggage?"

"Threw them out," he says with maddening nonchalance. "And your electronics are safe in my office. You won't be needing them, anyway. Even though your mother won't stop calling—understandable. But this...." he trails off. His brows crash into each other and a livid look clouds his eyes. "Calum boy. He's persistent."

"That's what I've been saying," Torin says in a joking tone.

Orian's eyes flit to him as if he is just taken notice of him. His eyes dart to his unbuckled belt. Then his eyes fasten on me. My eyes avert to the ground.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with bone-chilling calmness.

The guards pass him, momentarily obstructing his view, but his eyes are locked on his brother like a missile targeting system.

Torin blows it off with a carefree chuckle. "Was going to change for the meet. Since her room was on the way. Thought I'd check on her progress."

"With your pants undone?"

"Like I said, I was on my way to change," he says with straight-faced sincerity.

Orian accepts this and stands aside pointedly, nodding to the door. "Then go."

Torin casts a look at me before he obeys and heads out, leaving me alone with Orian. He saunters up to me, closing the gap between us. He stares me down for one long moment and sighs.

"How's your shoulder?"

".... What?"

"Torin told me that when you got taken, you were hit bad."

I clear my throat, nodding awkwardly. "I'm fine."

"Let me see," he demands.

Too tired to argue, I rotate around. "Like I said, I'm fine."

He removes the thin strap, skin to skin. His finger lightly meets with the bruised area, tracing a torturously slow trail of heat down my bare shoulder. My eyes flutter close for a moment, his touch like a curative balm.

"Karera wa kore ni okane o haraudeshou."

Jittery, I spin around. I fix the strap. "What does that mean?"

"They will pay," he translates.

"Retaliation based on Gaza basically broadcasting that I have the book, which led them to me?" I shake my head vigorously. "You would risk enraging the Yakuza? I'm not worth going to war over."

He looks me dead in the eyes, cold and unyielding. "Who said anything about war? War would mean battle and I'm not going to fight them."

"Then what are you're going to do?"

He turns around and marches to the door. "I'm going to kill every single one of them."