With this one, he hadn’t a clue.
JOHN WAKAI SAT out on his balcony in the sweltering night heat. The city was primed for a good storm to cool and clean the air. The forecast called for sunny days ahead but his aching legs, useless for their original purpose, messaged something different. There’d be a change. And soon.
Behind him the door slid open, and he felt his sister approach, her body draped in a light silken nightgown.
“Can’t sleep?” she murmured, resting her hand, small with taloned nails, on his shoulder.
Even after all these years, her touch still sent a charge through him. He carefully answered, “I don’t want to sleep. I’m working.”
Her nails pressed lightly into his shoulders. “Have you figured out how to get Tasanee? Is that it?”
Indirectly. The girl was the least of his concerns, what with Ek’s threats and Kannon’s relentless hunt. “I’m playing poker while they’re playing chess. That’s the key to winning.”
“What?”
Victoria was a simple creature. She wouldn’t understand. But she was also vain. This meant that she couldn’t accept her stupidity. He’d have to explain or endure a sulk. “There are levels to subterfuge. Anyone can play a game like, say, chess. Unfortunately, there’s always going to be a better chess player, so to play fairly is to invite defeat.”
Victoria’s voice brightened. “So you cheat?”
“Too many risks. You can get caught, for example, or play against someone who’s a better cheater than you. While it improves your odds, it doesn’t ensure victory.”
Victoria’s nails pressed harder, her ignorance triggering her impatience. “What does?”
“Making your opponent think he’s playing chess, when really you’re playing poker. That way it doesn’t matter how good a player he is, or how well he can cheat. He loses because he doesn’t understand the real objective until it’s too late.”
“Sure. I get it.”
John Wakai pretended that she did, too. “You always did understand me. Now how about you give me some quiet to think on my plans?”
“Okay, John. I’ll see you in the morning then.” She dipped down to him, and before he could stop her, she brought her lips to his, the kiss sending that same jolt of forbidden pleasure through him as when he’d first tasted her mouth as a boy. It was so wrong. So deeply, obscenely wrong. But he couldn’t help what he felt for his little sister. What she brought out in him. What she encouraged.
Their lips parted, Victoria’s face flushed in that loving, hungry way that was uniquely hers. He watched her pad back into the penthouse, and no sooner did she slide the balcony door shut then his smartphone rang, the number blocked.
He let it ring till it was about to go to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Kannon hit us at Triple 9,” Ek growled.
Why didn’t that surprise him? “Odd. I would have thought your magic would have kept him at bay,” Wakai said, making zero efforts to hide his sarcasm. “Anyone hurt?”
“He nearly busted my arm,” spat Ek.
“Perhaps your sorcery does work. I’m amazed he didn’t kill you.”
“You think this is funny? The week is up, and I’m all out of patience.”
Wakai’s mouth tightened into a thin smile. “Then find more.”
There was a moment of silence. Wakai could practically feel Ek’s anger pulsing down the line, and it made his smile widen.
“What did you say?” Ek exploded.
Wakai moved his phone away from his ear and dialed down the volume before proceeding. “I said that you need to be patient. Without me you’ll lose this city in a week, and you and your people will be lucky to scurry back across the border alive. If tonight didn’t prove that to you, then you’re even dumber than you look.”
“When I get my hands on you I’ll—”
“You’re not doing anything without Mr. Montri,” Wakai cut in.
Again silence. The sweet pause as his words sunk in.
“What have you done?” Ek’s voice was thick with murderous rage.
“He’s been transferred to somewhere where only I can reach him,” Wakai said in a deliberately lecturing tone, as if to a particularly stupid child. “And if anything happens to me he’ll be freed. Under him the Bangkok gangs will unite to crush you. I suggest that you and I establish a more cooperative working relationship.”
There was a roar of anger, a burst of static and the line went dead—probably Ek crushing the phone in that vice grip of his.
Wakai disconnected and returned to his panoramic view. So far his plan was unfolding as anticipated. The Cambodian gorilla had been put in his place, and Kannon the bulldog was playing right into his hands. Soon enough, Tasanee would be captured, and all the city stretched out before him would be his.
Gina woke slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes, her hand reaching for her baku. Nothing but slippery sheets, though Kannon hadn’t moved far. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back straight, his right hand resting in the palm of his left, thumbs touching, eyes closed.
Holey moley. Kannon meditated.
Gina flipped onto her belly and gorged her eyes on some real-live man candy. Well, candy that had gotten dropped once or twice. His neck and stomach were dark purple, and the cut on his head made him a bit like Frankenstein. Never mind. She’d still pop him in her mouth.
His eyelids fluttered open and his dark eyes focused on her. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded, and not because she lacked her morning coffee.
“Gina.” And nothing more. He sat there, gazing upon her with an expression both serious and amused.
“Ooookay. Give me back the big mean Kannon because this one’s freaking me out.”
“You’ve been the focus of my meditation.”
“Didn’t know I was so complex. What did you need to figure out?”
“The problem I’m having, Gina,” he said, uncoiling himself, “is that I need to focus. I have to focus with you around me all day and all night, when all I want to do is make love to you until neither of us can move.”
Really, really lightheaded now. “But you can’t because you need to focus.”
“Mmhmm.”
“And did your meditation give you a solution?”
He was at the edge of the bed, standing right in front of her so her head was level with his boxers. “No. All thinking about you did is make me horny as hell.”
She looked straight ahead. “So I see.” She flashed up a smile at him to encounter his solemn expression.
“Gina, I need you to stop driving me crazy with your flirting, with your clothes, with your…your everything. I told you we’ll make this happen. But I need you to put it on a leash.”
“What do you mean? I’m acting the way I always do.” She remembered something. “Okay, that time with Pensri was a little deliberate, I admit.”
“Mmhmm. That thing with Pensri was the tip of the iceberg. How about I give you a little demonstration?”
From the look in his eyes, she liked the sounds of that.
“On your back, girl.”
She was there. She took in how super sexy they looked in the mirrored ceiling, her in the little thigh-high red robe the girls wore, though with her height, it rode up nearly pussy high. And Kannon standing there with his muscled back, his hard butt, his head bent over her…his hand waving in annoyance over her? She switched her focus to the real Kannon, who was scowling down at her.
“See what I mean?” he growled. “Look at that thing you’re wearing. I’ve seen more material in a bandage.”
“There was nothing else to wear! I didn’t think you wanted me coming to bed naked like I usually do, and this was the only alternative. Out of respect for you, I put something on and you still say I’m coming on to you.”
“What’s a girl to do?” he sympathized, getting on the bed. He leaned the thick columns of his arms on either side of her.
He was going to kiss her. He was, wasn’t he? She closed her ey
es, tilting her face up to help Kannon along.
“Only one rule.” His breath feathered her cheek.
“What’s that?”
“You’re not to touch me.”
Her eyes snapped open. “What do you mean, not touch you? How can I not not touch you? That’d be like eating ice cream without my tongue.”
“We both know that if you get your hands on me, we’ll have sex. And there’s no way my first time with you is going to be in some seedy massage parlor.”
“Seems this place is perfect for sex. And for the record it’s gaudy, not seedy.”
“Not good enough”—he brought his lips a shade above hers—“for what’ll happen between us.” His voice had dropped. “Now, hands flat on the bed. Keep your head and bottom there, too.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
His lips brushed her forehead and withdrew. She gave a huff of disgust. “You call that a kiss?”
“I call that”—he kissed one cheek—“a woman strutting her sweet pink behind up twenty-five floors”—he kissed the other cheek—“I call that’’—he licked up the length of her throat to nuzzle behind her ear—“a woman who kisses another woman”—he flicked his tongue inside her ear, tickling—“just to disappear into a bedroom”—he treated the other side of her neck the same way—
“You could’ve joined us.” She twisted to capture his lips, a move he ducked.
“—knowing there was no way in hell I was sharing you.” He slipped his hand through the slit in her robe and cupped her left breast. He froze, groaned. Ah-ha! It wouldn’t be long now before he relented. He sucked in his breath and resumed stroking her breast, stopping short of her nipple. No matter, it perked up hard and made contact with his palm. He stopped again. His lids grew heavy and a downward glance at the front of his boxers told her she was beating him at his little game.
“Then last night, you in that dress. With that bottle.” He plucked at her nipples already so hard—“You’re all talk, no action.”
She gripped the silky folds of the sheets to hold herself back. “That’s not fair. I can give you action. You won’t let me.”
He swept away the other half of her robe, exposing her entire naked body to him. He studied her, his heavy, heated gaze gliding along her tummy, her moistening folds, her legs. He even stopped at her feet, and she wiggled her pink-painted toes for his viewing pleasure. He took his time traveling back up her body and came to rest at her breasts again, his hand settling between them. “Please take them,” she offered. “In your hands. Your mouth. Against your chest.” She glanced again at his boxers. “Take them anywhere you like.”
He smiled, a soft, slow thing that crinkled his eyes and crinkled her heart into a tight achy ball. And it was this smile that finally, finally touched her mouth.
Its sweetness nearly made her break her promise. One hand twitched and she had to slam it back against the mattress. He must’ve registered that, because his smile widened on her. His tongue ran along her lips and his mouth spread hers open. His tongue flicked the soft tissues there, then he pulled out and slipped back inside. Again and again. Her heels dug into the mattress and her hands had gathered up fistfuls of pink sheet in an effort to hold up her end of the bargain. Her entire body quivered with the need to grab hold of him.
And then, before she could prepare herself, he drew one finger through the folds between her legs. She yelped, her hands clamped on his shoulders, her leg hooked around his. He went still. His tongue, lips, hands withdrew. He sat up, stood.
She beat her hands on the sheets, drummed her heels on the mattress, the mirrored ceiling capturing her tantrum. Which was so not funny. “Kannon! What sane woman would’ve done any different?”
“True.” His voice was gentle, liquored with humor. “But, Gina, what are we if we can’t keep our promises?”
He strolled over to the chair and picked up his shirt—the shirt she’d rinsed out for him so he wouldn’t have to walk around with a big blood spot on himself—and slipped it on.
She took a deep breath. “You’re a big, fat jerk. With a big, fat hard-on. Remember, I lose, you lose.”
All she got was a long, slow smile.
“You wait until our first date,” she kept on, in an effort to prove her point. “You think you’re cool, huh? I’ll get you so worked up people down the block are going to need a cigarette when we’re done!”
At that, his smile became a full-out grin. “Promise?”
Ek stalked up the stairs to the third floor of the rundown hotel where he’d arranged the early morning meeting with his…partner. His battered body ached and his arm throbbed from having his elbow dislocated, and then from his snapping it back into its socket. The second he got Alak Montri back, he was going to hunt down the motherfucker who did this to him and rip him apart. No, he was going to first castrate the motherfucker and feed him his balls. No, feed his balls to John Wakai before he beat the crippled worm to death with his own wheelchair.
But first, the clusterfuck that was Alak Montri had to be dealt with. Reaching his floor, he passed the three men guarding the place, all giving him a wide berth, and banged on the door.
It opened immediately to Victoria, and he shoved his way in. He rammed her up against the wall and put a one-hand choke on her with his good arm. “Your fucking brother has taken Montri.”
Her small anticipatory smile at his roughness vanished, and her eyes rounded with shock. “What? When?”
“Last night. One of my men on Montri was shot in the leg, the other beat so bad it’ll be weeks before he can walk again. We need to fix this. You need to fix this.” He pressed his thumb hard on her pulse so the blood would pound through her ears. He felt her relax. Fuck. That was the trouble with roughing up female rakshasi. They got off on it, which defeated the purpose for doing it in the first place.
“You need to get him to tell you where Alak Montri is, you understand?”
She scowled. “Don’t worry, I will. But you’re not to harm John. You need him. He’s so smart.”
“He’s outsmarting us,” growled Ek.
“He’s not going to betray us.”
“He just did!”
“Can’t you see, Ek? He’s my brother. We’re family. Like you and me.”
“He still needs to be brought back under our heel.”
“He’s not some dog to be whipped, Ek. John’s always loved me. Always understood my needs. If you two would try to get along you’d see that.” Head still pinned to the wall, she stretched her arms and legs toward him, trying to climb him like a monkey in heat.
He threw her to the carpet, and walked away as if she were a bag of garbage. “He’s not a rakshasa. He’ll never understand your needs.”
She crawled after him on all fours until her head was at his crotch. “But I am,” she replied. “And you do.”
That’s right, he did. He took a fistful of her hair with his good hand and yanked back. She yelped in pain and grabbed his balls. Hard. He hissed and didn’t let go of her hair. They held onto each other this way, a smile spreading across her face. “The same blood runs in our veins, Ek. Can you feel it?”
Fuck, yes. The pain in his testicles was sharp; it only made him harder. He thrived on pain. Even his own. And looking into her bright burning eyes he saw himself reflected. Like him, she was of his kind, and soon enough the two of them would rule Bangkok.
Her fingers tightened and pain shot straight through his system to his hand gripping her hair. He dug his fingers into her scalp. “A week or two and my brother will have done his job,” she gasped and rolled her head against his iron hold. “Then Montri is his slave. We can do whatever we want. Think of how happy we’ll all be. Think of how much our family will grow.”
Nothing was as easy as that. Nothing was gained except through blood, sweat and more blood. She might be rakshasi, but she still had a lot to learn.
He slapped her across the face so hard she fell to the floor,
letting go of his testicles. He reached down and picked her up by her hair amid her pained and excited cries. And he’d be the one to teach her.
Gina leaned over Kittyjack’s shoulder, eyes glued to Wakai’s video of Alak Montri as it inched along, frame by frame. Badly beaten, tied to a chair, surrounded by sadistic killers, the man still managed to look defiant. She didn’t know how he did it.
“Here’sthepart,” said the hacker in her machine-gun voice as a masked man stepped into the picture, a newspaper in his hands to prove the date of the video. With a click of her mouse, Kittyjack paused it, then rolled back her chair a bit so that Gina and Kannon could move in.
Kannon stood a few feet back, chewing gum. “Looks pretty clean. Shot in front of a blank wall so there’s no indication of the interior. Newspaper is sold across the city so no geographical location, either. Mr. Montri’s hands are tied behind his back so he can’t signal in any way. And the man holding the newspaper has his face covered so there’s no way to identify him. Looks like Wakai covered all the bases and for the last time”—he glared at Kittyjack—“talk so I can hear what you’re saying.”
Kittyjack sat there, wearing a faint gloat and a t-shirt that read, ‘Intellectuals solve problems. Geniuses prevent them.’ “You’re right that they didn’t make any obvious mistakes. In the end they made three, and they’re all in just a few seconds of footage.”
She’d delivered a challenge. Gina turned to Kannon. “You up for this, Team Genius?” Kannon apparently understood the reference, because he tilted his head to the screen to give her first-go. Despite plastering her eyeballs to the screen, Gina drew a blank.
She pulled back to give him a turn. “Sorry, Kannon, can’t hold up my end.” She wagged a finger at Kittyjack’s words. “‘Pride doeth come before a fall’, as a dear nun I know often misquotes to me.”
Kittyjack grinned. “It’s more pity I’m feeling.”
Kannon pointed at the screen, first at the ankles of Montri, then at those of his captor. “The bottom of the kidnapper’s pant leg looks wet.”
Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) Page 13