He folded his arms over his chest and took one last desperate stand. “We can’t do that. We don’t know who can be trusted.”
Gina snorted at the idea. “Don’t worry, she’s one of my oldest friends. If there’s anyone in the world I can trust, it’s her.”
“If she’s really a friend, then it’s best we don’t put her at risk.”
Gina peered at him. “Are you okay, Kannon? You’re acting kind of weird all of a sudden.” She glanced at Ryota, who had his neck stretched so far in the other direction he looked like an owl. Gina switched back to him, looking for clues. Kannon kept his expression like a blank screen.
She shrugged and made for the door. “Never mind. I’ll find out sooner or later.”
Kannon dug out a piece of nic gum and started chomping like there was no tomorrow.
WAKAI LAY IN his bed, typing the address of an obscure chat site into his tablet. Every night since his best friend had gone missing, he’d checked it, hoping to hear from Jarun, and every night his friend’s pseudonym was absent from the list of participants. Tonight, he ran his finger down the list and smiled. He created a private chat room, empty save for the two of them.
I was beginning to give up hope, he typed.
Managed to get away.
Are you okay?
Yes.
Who had you?
Doesn’t matter.
Wakai sat up in bed, dragging his useless legs with him. It matters if I’m going to stop them.
I cut a deal with them.
It took a few deep breaths before Wakai could reply. You changed sides?
The answer came quick. Don’t be stupid.
Yes, it was certainly his old friend he was talking to. If you’re on my side then why won’t you tell me who’s hunting me?
They won’t hunt you if you let Montri go. We could leave the city. Start somewhere new.
Where was this coming from? That’s not an option.
Yes, it is. Your sister could go to Cambodia with her friends.
Wakai leaned back. Ah, there is was. As much as he cared about his sister and best friend, the two of them had always hated each other with a passion. And he could understand why. Jarun tortured and killed for work, not pleasure. And never children.
It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one that told Alak about Victoria’s addictions.
No. I should have. Years ago. Now look where we are.
Wakai wasn’t sure he believed his friend. Not that it mattered. He needed allies he could trust, even reluctant ones. Jarun and he had saved each other’s lives a dozen times over, and if there was one person in the world he could count on it was his old friend. He tried a different tack.
I don’t want to hurt Alak. We worked well together for a lot of years. Will you help me protect him from the Cambodians?
There was a pause, then—Yes.
Wakai pressed his opening. Kannon is hunting me. If he catches me, I’m a dead man. Will you help me stop him?
This time the pause was longer. Much longer. Yes.
Wakai released his breath and his fingers flew. I’m going to give you the address for Montri. Get him and then contact me again. I’ll give you instructions from there.
What’s security like?
Wakai filled him in, finishing with, Is that a problem?
No.
Wakai paused. Their business was concluded, but he didn’t want to sign off quite yet. It’s good to have you back.
Wish I could say it was good to be back, replied Jarun. Then abruptly, he signed out.
Kannon lagged behind Gina as they walked down the hallway of a lavish apartment building, all plush blue carpeting and silver chandeliers. It was hard to imagine that hours ago they’d been in another high rise, dark and empty.
He wished like hell he was back there again. He’d pitch himself over the stairwell if it meant avoiding what lay on the other side of the apartment door Gina was knocking on.
It was opened by a beautiful Thai woman, her black hair a long sensuous ripple, her body barely concealed by a short silken robe of bright crimson.
“Gina!”
“Pensri!”
The two women hugged each other, and then Pensri caught sight of him over Gina’s shoulder. Pensri’s hug slackened and Gina didn’t miss her cue. She windmilled a hand to hurry him in. Kannon slowly did so, closing and then locking the door.
“Pensri, this is my friend, Kannon.” Gina’s smile was huge.
Pensri gave a short bow. “Hello, Kannon.”
Kannon returned the greeting. “Hello, Pensri.”
Gina’s smile slipped. “So, you two know each—oh....”
Kannon winced. Of all the people in a city of fourteen million, naturally Pensri had to be Gina’s friend. He seriously wondered if there was a person alive who wasn’t connected to this woman.
“I see.” For the first time in their brief, intense acquaintance, Gina Zaffini seemed at a loss for words. She licked her lip, scraped it and bit it. Then, Gina, being Gina, recovered. She took in Pensri’s comfortable pad with its lit candles and warm-colored furnishings, walls hung with artistic, erotic images.
“Wow. Business must be good. I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Pensri shrugged modestly. “I’ve been very fortunate. Can I get you two drinks?”
“Sure. Surprise us!” Gina answered before Kannon could decline.
As soon as Pensri left the room, he took Gina’s arm. “This isn’t what you think it is.”
“You mean you’re not one of her clients?”
“When I went to work for Mr. Montri, he provided me with everything I’d need here in Bangkok. Weapons, money, an apartment—”
“And one of my father’s top call girls,” she finished for him.
“Yes, but—”
Again Gina interrupted. “Kannon, my family’s been running brothels for as long as I can remember, and Pensri and I’ve been friends since we were teenagers. You really think this shocks me? I know you don’t have a girlfriend and, well, people have needs.”
“It’s not that way,” he growled.
“So you haven’t been here before?”
“Of course I have. Several times.” Why did he feel the need to explain himself? It wasn’t as if Gina was upset or judgmental. She seemed to think it perfectly acceptable that he had sexual relations with her friend.
“Tell me, what do you two do together? Play dominos?”
“First time we did,” Pensri said, as she returned with iced teas she passed around. “Took a while for Kannon to loosen up.”
Gina took a glass, and sighed. “Tell me about it. What’s your secret?”
Pensri came alongside Gina, and together they observed Kannon. “You know,” Pensri said, “I think our conversation is making him uncomfortable.”
Gina tilted her head. “You think? He’s just standing there, looking as neutral as ever.” She slipped behind Pensri, settling her cold glass between Pensri’s breasts at which point she squeezed the soft mounds together to hold the glass in place.
Kannon almost lost his grip on his own iced tea, catching its slippery surface an instant before it spilled. Pensri scooped out an ice cube and fed it over her shoulder to Gina who held it in her teeth as she skimmed it along Pensri’s bare neck and shoulder. Pensri made a little mew he knew from experience meant Gina was doing her job well.
Gina tossed back her head and crunched down on the ice. “I think we’re going to head to the bedroom, Kannon. I haven’t seen Pensri since she visited L.A. last year, and we definitely have some catching up to do.”
He nodded dumbly and then found his tongue. “Of course. I’ll...see you both in the morning, then.”
Gina brought the glass away from Pensri’s chest and set it down. They moved in the direction of the bedroom, holding hands. At the threshold, they looked at each other, as if in psychic communication, and Gina turned to him. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”
If she’d
made her request with the usual grin and hip swing, he could’ve managed a comeback. Instead she said it with a soft twist of her mouth, an almost shy tuck of her purpled hair behind her ear. It was all he could do to stand there.
Pensri tugged on Gina’s hand and the bedroom door shut, cutting off their giggles.
Damn woman. How the hell did she play him like that? His wife, his love, had washed away his cold façade with her grace and gentleness. Gina tore through it with all the subtlety of a chainsaw, leaving him feeling as awkward as a teenager.
His cock was so hard it was almost painful, his ample supply of testosterone raging for him to join them. He gulped down his drink, and picked up Gina’s, the outside still warm from her touch and Pensri’s breasts.
Through the closed door came a happy moan and sexy little giggles.
Kannon gulped and crunched down the iced drink, and prayed he’d make it through the night.
Gina dropped her clothes and slipped into Pensri’s bed, her naked friend quickly following. Slim fingers stroked the lotus tattoo that adorned Gina’s right breast. At a casual glance the flower seemed typical. On closer inspection its petals contained a stylized crocodile, its expression serene.
“I missed Timmy the croc,” Pensri said.
Gina sank into the pillows. “He’s been places, that’s for sure.”
Pensri palmed Gina’s nipples, frictioning them to full hardness. “Who’s had more men? You or me?”
Gina arched into the sensation—sometimes it was nice to be in the hands of a professional. “I don’t know. I’ve kinda lost track. I was never sure whether to count blow-jobs. Or if I didn’t get an orgasm.”
“It’s easy for me. If they pay, it’s sex.”
Gina giggled, Pensri joining in, and she gave her friend a kiss on the lips. “And if they don’t?”
“I wouldn’t know. They always pay. Some even tip.”
Kannon would tip. “Sorry about the awkwardness. I didn’t know Kannon was a client.” She skimmed her hand down Pensri’s side. This was why women were a nice change. They were so soft and smooth.
“Me? Feel awkward? I think you were the unhappiest.”
“Me? No way.”
“You said nothing. You didn’t look at him. You looked”—Pensri paused, thinking, her fingers doing lazy circles on Gina’s bare belly—“annoyed.”
“I wasn’t annoyed. I was more—something that’s not annoyed. I mean, he could’ve told me. Here it was going to be this big surprise to get him in the mood since I don’t quite seem to do it for him, and it turns out that he’s one of your regulars.”
Pensri’s fingers paused, a hair above Gina’s pubic bone. “Gina Zaffini. Are you telling me he turned you down?”
Gina nodded and wished Pensri’s fingers would change the subject.
Pensri’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Gina squirmed, directing Pensri’s hand lower. “I have no idea. He’s showing all the signs of being interested, but he’s being stubborn for some reason. Perhaps he’s embarrassed about something.”
Pensri took the hint and started with a practiced stroking. “Well, I can tell you from experience he’s got nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Gina let out a frustrated moan. “So much for that theory. How’s he as a client? Bet he’s a big tipper, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Though I tell him it’s not necessary.”
Gina and Pensri had known each other since the Thai woman had joined them when she was a destitute teenager. Although her profession had brought her wealth, that hadn’t stopped Pensri from squeezing out an extra baht given the chance. There could only be one reason she would turn down Kannon’s money. “Does he make you come?”
Pensri gave Gina an especially naughty stroke of her finger. “Gina! You know I don’t kiss and tell.” From the look in her eyes, she didn’t need to. If Kannon made the consummate professional come, an amateur like her would be putty in his hands.
“Fine then. Here I am, a friend you haven’t seen in years, and you won’t share. Even though you know it’s the only way I’m going to get a piece of him.”
“Get someone else.”
“I want him.” It came out that fast. Gina sucked in her breath. She could feel herself drying up even under Pensri’s luxurious manipulations.
Great. She’d reconciled herself to a night without sex from Kannon, she was with an expert, she wanted sex, and because she wanted it from a man who was sipping iced tea in the next room, she was like the desert.
“I’m so pathetic,” she muttered.
Pensri gave a consoling giggle and snuggled closer to Gina, sliding her hand away. “Poor Gina. A man she’s known for two days has refused her.”
“Three years technically.”
That got Pensri up on her elbow. “Really? How do you add that up? He’s been here two years, and you haven’t been here in ten.”
“We met three years ago at my workplace.”
“Let me guess. He was there on business.”
“Yes. He was…um, very focused on completing his job.”
“Maybe he’s focused now.”
Gina reached around and pinched her girlfriend’s bum. “You’re on his side.”
Pensri flicked Gina’s nipple in return. “I’m pointing out that not everyone has your viewpoint.”
“I’m very liberal.”
“You accept all viewpoints except from people who don’t accept all viewpoints.”
“I’m intolerant of intolerance.”
“Kannon isn’t intolerant. He’s very…specific.”
“Specific? What man wants sex but doesn’t follow through? I’m totally easy. I come with no strings attached. He’s making it into a big deal.”
“Gina. If all he wanted was sex, he’d be in here right now.”
And wasn’t that depressing? If he didn’t want to have sex with her, there was nothing else. She was just his boss, exactly like he’d told her today.
Gina flipped off the covers and swung open Pensri’s armoire. Inside was a row of awe-inspiring lengths and thicknesses. Feathers and leathers, stilettos and more.
Gina took up an especially hefty toy. “Time for the big guns.”
Kannon endured. He suffered the whispering and the giggling. He swore he heard his name, followed by more giggles.
But when he heard the purr and muted revving of the toys, followed up with Gina’s own special purrs and moans, he broke. He strode out the door and took the stairs. He emerged onto ground level and sucked in the hot damp night air, experiencing something that didn’t make one iota of sense.
He was out of breath.
Gina woke to her phone singing Livin’ la Vida Loca. Pensri rolled and groaned and disappeared under the sheets.
It was her dad. “Looks like we’ve had a development.” He sounded both hopeful and strained, and Gina wasn’t sure whether he was referring to his health or Alak Montri’s kidnapping. She whipped out of bed. “What’s happened?”
“Last night Wakai’s thugs started delivering flash drives all over the city. On them is a video of Alak. He’s worse for wear, but alive, and they’ve made an ultimatum.”
Where oh where were her clothes? “What did he say?”
“If anyone hits him or his allies again in any way, Alak dies.”
Her eyes shot to the door. Kannon needed to hear this. Unable to locate her dress in the darkened room she headed into Pensri’s wardrobe and looked for something that could pass for street clothing. “He wants time to hunt us down with impunity. Asshole. Have you told Tas?”
“I have. She realizes that Wakai is using her father as a human shield.”
“So what do you think it means? They’re not intimidated, are they?”
“I don’t know, Gina. Perhaps they have some vulnerability we don’t know about. Or maybe the message is meant for some other enemy. What’s your story?”
She flipped through Pensri’s clothes as she filled him in on her meeting with Dr. Chaiboonma. Al
l the while, she kept one ear trained for any sound outside the room. When she and Pensri had finished playing the night before, she’d come out for water and Kannon had been gone. Was he back?
Gina settled on a yellow sleeveless buttoned shift, modest enough for a bra which she located by the door. Finishing her update, she added, “Have the Bangkok Blondes had a chance to look at the video?”
“A runner is on her way to Dr. Chaiboonma right now. Hopefully, he can get something useful from the video. Call me as soon as you make any progress.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’ve got time to visit your old man today.”
She stopped trying to struggle into her clothes. “Yeah, Dad. I’d like that. I need to clear some stuff by Kannon and then I’ll come see you. Maybe, we’ll throw lines off the boat and catch a few.”
“Huh. Come home.”
Home. A yacht floating around the Bay of Thailand. Always shifting and drifting, anchored to a city that endlessly changed. Okay, Dr. Chaiboonma had a point about stability.
She wiggled her way into the clothing, kissed a comatose Pensri on the cheek and left to see what she could see.
Kannon was in the kitchen, his back to her as he made coffee. He was shirtless. The brightening dawn highlighted every muscle of his body, and in the light she could clearly see the elaborate tattoos that adorned him.
Across his powerful back was a strange chimera with an elephant’s head, tusks, and trunk, except with curving horns sprouting from its head, its legs ending in tiger claws. For all its weirdness, its expression seemed at once kind and defiant, and despite its mismatching parts the artist had somehow lent the creature a kind of nobility. It was one of the strangest tattoos she’d ever seen—and one of the most beautiful.
Kannon looked over his shoulder, his gaze roaming over her body a moment before snapping back to her face. She really liked his eyes on her, almost as much as she liked looking at him. “What’s the news?”
“You could hear me?”
He took two cups from the cupboard. “Yes. I can hear you even when you try to be quiet.”
Which meant that she’d come through loud and clear last night. If she knew how, she might’ve blushed. Instead she got busy with bringing him up to speed.
Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) Page 9