Pat had a wife and three daughters. He always said he’d been blessed in women. Now, he could say they’d cursed him as well.
“Who is involved?”
Pat looked confused, before he shook his head. “Just me. I didn’t want to risk bringing in any of the others, so I used…”
When he trailed off, Ramsey prodded, “Who?”
“Italians.”
Ramsey would have laughed if he were still inclined. Pat knew better. Italians claimed to be a loyal bunch but they were only loyal to family. They had no qualms tossing outsiders under the bus, which was likely what happened to Pat. He was surprised his uncle lasted five years in business with them and was still alive.
“Which Italian?”
“Gunzo Barelli.”
“The one sliced open by a prostitute?” The name was familiar because it had repeatedly been on the news a few months back. When Pat nodded, Ramsey smirked. “One of yours?” Pat nodded again. “And that was what tipped the feds off.” At Pat’s easy nod, Ramsey looked at his watch.
It was almost nine o’clock. He’d been here for almost two hours already. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“That’s it. I ran a prostitution ring, the feds caught me, threatened me, and I told them about the old man, but nothing about you.”
He didn’t believe everything the man said, but unless the man had changed so completely, he couldn’t see Pat lying with the knowledge that Ramsey would have access to his family after he was gone.
“This was a good conversation, Pat.” He approached the other man slowly, and Pat’s eyes narrowed and raked his body for a weapon. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you.”
“Who will? Vince?”
Ramsey shrugged. “Get your affairs in order, Pat.”
The older man exhaled deep and nodded once. “Thank you.”
“If you try to run, I’ll find you and I won’t be as forgiving.”
“I’m not going to run.” Pat released a shaky breath. “I just want to make sure my girls are taken care of.” Pat looked back to the tall imposing buildings. “You’ll still protect them?”
“A Dragon always protects his family.”
Pat snorted. “You’re sounding more and more like the old man, Ramsey.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” Pat half turned to him. “My father wasn’t a happy man; he was bitter and calculating. Everyone, except your mother, hated him.”
Ramsey nodded. But his grandfather had kept them alive, and the ones who hadn’t survived, had died by his hand for betraying him.
“Goodnight, Pat.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and headed for the glass doors. Otis and Grant stood just inside, waiting for him.
“Ramsey?”
The uncertainty in his uncle’s voice made him halt, and look over his shoulder.
“How long do I have to get my affairs in order?”
“It could be a day, it could be more.”
He nodded, and Ramsey would have continued walking but Pat spoke again, “Tell Hannah I’m sorry.”
“For?”
Pat shrugged and a sad smile touched his lips. “Tell her I lied when I said he had nothing to do with it. She’ll understand.”
Ramsey nodded. His uncle was clearing his conscience. He’d indulge him.
“Is that all?”
“Try to find happiness, Ramsey. Today’s a sad day, but happiness is still out there.” He looked up at the clear sky and bright moon. “I’ve had a good life, a happy life, because of my girls.” Pat turned back to Ramsey. “Life’s fickle. Here today, gone tomorrow.” He smirked. “At least go happy.” With that said, he gave Ramsey his back.
Happiness, Ramsey thought with a derisive snort. His niece was dead. Happiness was something he didn’t deserve.
***
He arrived home fifteen minutes later but Ramsey spent close to thirty minutes in his car, replaying Lily’s funeral in his head. Dressed in a pale blue gown and holding a lone lily in her perfectly placed hands, she’d looked like she was sleeping or faking it. She’d always done that with him when she was little, pretend to sleep until he tickled her “awake”. But today, there would be no tickling her to see her eyes open and her instant smile appear. Today, she’d been sealed into a wooden box, and placed into the earth at her final resting place.
His chest grew tight, the only indication that his heart was still there, his right eye began to twitch and his nose tingled.
Opening his car door, he walked to the elevator and called it. Using his key, he pressed “P” for the penthouse and waited for the doors to close. Within seconds, he stepped into his dark apartment. He was heading for the kitchen in search of a stiff drink when her voice made him halt. Like a moth to a flame, Ramsey was pulled.
When he stepped into the living room, the first thing he saw was her smiling face. They were at the park, and Lily had commandeered the attention of someone’s puppy. Whenever he took Lily to the park, Ramsey usually brought along his video-recorder. She grew so fast, he’d wanted videos to show her when she was older of how adorable she’d been when she was little. Ramsey had been acutely aware that they’d embarrass her, but he hadn’t minded. He’d been looking forward to it.
The sound of crying pulled his attention from the video playing on the large, flat-screen and Ramsey looked down to find Sarah huddled into herself, remote in hand as she rewound and paused the video. Lily was immortalized on the flat screen, a large smile on her face as the puppy licked her cheek. Moving around the sofa, Ramsey sat next to her and gently pried the remote from her hand. Sarah seemed confused at first, but her expression gradually cleared, and she allowed him to turn the video off.
“I’m sorry, oppa. I was looking for a movie and found the DVD. It had her name on it.”
“Ssh.” Ramsey pulled her against him and brushed her forehead with his lips. “You don’t apologize to me, Sarah.” Ever.
If she’d attacked him and told him she hated him, Ramsey wouldn’t have blamed her. He was responsible for her daughter’s death. They remained like that for long moments, just holding each other as Sarah cried. When her sniffles grew less frequent, Ramsey asked softly, “Have you eaten?”
Sarah was staying with him indefinitely. When Lily passed, she’d refused to go back to her condo—there were too many memories there—so he’d brought her to his apartment. Bastian still stayed at the condo, but he too had decided the memories were too much, and was putting it on the market.
“Omunni made soup, oppa,” Sarah replied, her voice hoarse and scratchy. “I had some.”
His mother had come from Seoul for Lily’s funeral and was staying with him as well. It had been a long day. Hannah was likely sleeping.
“That’s good.” In one week, Sarah had dropped ten pounds. Considering she’d always been petite, it was cause for alarm. “You have to stay healthy.”
Sarah’s grip on him tightened and she burrowed closer. “Thank you, oppa.”
He didn’t know for what, and Ramsey didn’t feel like asking. She shouldn’t be thanking him for anything, but that was Sarah, polite and respectful. Ramsey didn’t know how long he sat there holding her, but he must have fallen asleep with her in his arms, because the next he knew, light was blinding him and Jezebel was standing directly over them.
“Jezebel?”
He was dreaming, Ramsey decided. The past week had been rife with nightmares, so it was only appropriate that he start dreaming about Jezebel. Was this to be a nightmare too? Would she disappear, and in her place, he’d see a coffin, a tomb, worse yet, her dead, broken body?
“You bastard!” she hissed, shaking her head and looking from his face to his chest. Ramsey looked down. Sarah was there. At some point, he’d kicked off his shoes, put his legs up and rested his back against the arm of the sofa. Sarah had shifted too, as had her robe, and she now lay in a less than graceful sprawl across his body. The position was intimate,
and to the woman he was currently avoiding, too intimate. “How hard is it to pick up a phone to let me know you moved on?”
Against his chest, Sarah shifted and moaned. Realizing it was no dream, and somehow, Jezebel Carter was in his apartment, Ramsey gently moved Sarah from him, pulling her open robe closed, and stood. In Jezebel’s eyes, he saw hurt, confusion and anger. So many emotions swirled there it was impossible not to see them.
Without a word, Ramsey gripped her upper arm and pulled her from the living room.
***
Jezebel hadn’t known what to expect when she drove to Ramsey’s apartment at one in the morning, but she’d had a few theories. She doubted she’d get in, considering she didn’t have a key, but if the doorman she knew was working, he’d let her up unless Ramsey specifically told him not to. As luck would have it, he’d been on duty, and on seeing her, had allowed her in and called the elevator for Ramsey’s apartment. He’d done it before countless times and clearly didn’t know that Ramsey was now treating her like a stranger.
When she’d arrived on his floor, she’d still been skeptical. Jezebel had half expected someone to be there, waiting to send her right back down, but the hallway was clear, the glazed double doors as they always were, unlocked.
“Release me!” she hissed, trying unsuccessfully to tug her arm away from him. Ramsey ignored her.
Was he leading her to the door? Jezebel wondered. He was leading her through dark hallways and she couldn’t tell where they were heading. Coming to his apartment had been the move of a desperate woman, but she refused to be tossed out like one.
“I only came here for answers, Ramsey!” she snapped, trying to tug her arm away again. “I want to know what happened to Lily.” She broke off when his grip tightened painfully on her arm. Almost instantly, he eased it, but kept pulling her somewhere. Finally, he stopped, and released her. The darkness gave way to light and Jezebel blinked and looked around. They were in his office.
“How did you get up here?” His voice was cool, but his eyes told her she was not welcome.
“I took the elevator and walked,” she snapped. Forcing herself to focus on why she’d come here, Jezebel asked through clenched teeth, “Am I in danger? Is my family in danger?”
“Why would you be in danger, Jezebel?”
“Because of your mob affiliations!” She inhaled deep and tried to keep calm, but it was proving difficult. Her mind kept replaying the image of Ramsey on the couch with that woman, her robe half open as if they hadn’t quite finished what they’d started or maybe they had? Of all the things he’d done, avoiding her, giving her Vince’s number, being cold to her, seeing him with another woman stung the most.
“I don’t have any mob affiliations.”
“How did Lily die? Was she run over by a drunk driver or was it because her uncle’s a gangster?”
His jaw clenched, but he only repeated himself. “I’m not a gangster.”
“You’re lying.” It came out softly because Jezebel felt defeated. This was her last attempt to speak to him, and it wasn’t going well. Staring into familiar but unfamiliar eyes, Jezebel asked the question that had been on her mind since she learned of the Double Dragon and his place in it. “Who are you?”
It caught him off guard because the cold mask slipped for a few moments before falling into place once more. “You know exactly who I am, Jezebel.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t have any idea who you are! The man I knew doesn’t exist. He never existed.” Her nose burned and she looked down and blinked hard. When her emotions were under control, she lifted her eyes back to his and demanded, “Why did you pursue me?”
His broad shoulders rippled under his crumpled dress shirt. “I was bored. You were a pretty distraction.”
Jezebel nodded. “You were never going to introduce me to your family, were you?”
Ramsey shook his head. “No.” His gaze raked her from head to foot. She wore her sleeping clothes, a t-shirt and shorts, and sandals. “My family would never accept you.”
Neither would he. It went unsaid, but Jezebel heard and saw it clearly. Bottling her emotions, she tossed them aside and forged ahead, “Raquel Daniels told me that someone was hired to run over Lily. Was she lying?”
“It’s possible. She lied about many things.”
“She told me that the only reason Lily died is because someone wanted to hurt you. She told me I could be next because you made people think that you care about me.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
Yes, they both did. “But your enemies don’t and I’m not dying for you, Ramsey!” She shook her head. “You’re not worth it.”
“I’m not,” he agreed.
“She mentioned protective custody.”
“Did she?”
“Do I need protective custody, Ramsey?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask yourself—”
Jezebel slapped him. Hard. The angry red handprint on his face and his look of shock gave her such pleasure, she considered doing it again. “I’m not here about us, Ramsey.” Her cool tone made her feel even better. She felt like she’d regained some of the control she lost when she’d come to his apartment and he’d shown and told her she never mattered to him. “Whatever we had is over. I’m here about my safety and that of my family, so if you would just answer the question, I’ll leave and you won’t have to worry about seeing me again.”
His jaw clenched.
“Do I need protective custody?” she repeated.
He shrugged, but answered, “If the FBI thinks you need protective custody, they probably have a good reason for it.”
She nodded and turned on her heel. She wouldn’t thank him. He’d caused her nothing but heartache.
***
“Who was that?”
Ramsey’s head snapped up and away from the door through which Jezebel had walked, and he eyed his mother with suspicion. How long had she been there? Dressed in a pink summer robe and slippers, Hannah smiled, lifted the glass of water in her hand and approached him. “I was thirsty. I heard voices.”
“No one,” he finally answered. “Go back to sleep, omma.”
Omma was the Korean word for “mother” and Ramsey had referred to her as such from before he could remember.
“How does ‘no one’ get into your apartment?” His mother had always been curious and stubborn. They were characteristics that endeared her to many, and alternatively, annoyed.
“Otis and Grant are being lax with their jobs,” he replied. Ramsey still didn’t know how Jezebel had managed to get into his apartment without one of them intercepting her, but he’d find out, and then one or both of them would be gone. He didn’t pay them to experience security breaches like that.
Hannah scoffed. “Don’t blame the shadows for your mistakes, Ramsey. It’s childish and you haven’t been a child for many years.”
“Omma...”
“She’s quite beautiful,” Hannah continued, pushing strands of dark hair from her face. His mother had always looked younger than her age, and although she was sixty years old, she barely looked forty. “Bastian said she was.”
His mouth thinned. Of course, Bastian had told their mother of Jezebel. Who hadn’t his brother told? Ramsey wondered angrily. He’d have to visit him tomorrow.
“Don’t be upset with your brother, Ramsey.” She smiled easily and took a sip of her water. “He hasn’t mastered the art of lying to his mother yet. Not like you.”
Dipping his head respectfully, Ramsey said, “I’m tired, omma. I’m going to sleep.”
“Will I ever meet her?” Hannah interrupted.
“No.”
“Ah, my noble son.”
Ramsey might have smirked if that wouldn’t have encouraged her further. He was many things but noble wasn’t among them. “It was never serious, omma.”
“Yet she somehow has unrestricted access to your apartment,” Hannah replied easily.
Leaning down, Ramse
y brushed his lips across her forehead. “Goodnight, omma.”
“Goodnight, my son.”
In his bedroom, Ramsey stripped out of his clothes, and entered the shower. Although it was impossible to wash the day away, braced against the shower tiles with the cool water washing away dirt and grime, he could pretend. Pretend that Lily wasn’t dead and buried, and Jezebel didn’t hate him.
Chapter 3
“We live as we die, and die as we live.”
―Edward Counsel
Whoever said death came in threes was one person away from being right when it came to his family. Less than two weeks ago, Ramsey buried his niece. Today, he buried his uncle. And though the circumstances were drastically different, Lily had been an innocent, while Pat’s actions had led to his own demise. Ramsey found himself musing on that saying.
From behind dark sunglasses, he watched as they lowered the casket containing Dae-Ho “Patrick” Seong’s body into the Earth. Even Pat would be impressed by the sleek black wood, the pure gold engraved into it that managed to glitter even in the gloomy weather, and the plush ruby interior. His aunt had chosen well.
Standing next to him, Bastian shuddered. It was a slightly chilled day, a result of autumn’s near approach, and the recent downpour. The past week had seen record-breaking rain. Still, Ramsey knew that the slight ripple had little to do with the weather.
His brother shifted again and Ramsey turned to him.
“Who’s next?” Bastian muttered, shaking his head. Like Ramsey, he was dressed in all black, down to his handkerchief, cufflinks and black sunglasses.
Ramsey returned his attention to the gravediggers operating the device. After the priest said a final prayer for his uncle’s eternal soul and operators began to lower the casket, there had been silence. But for the machine’s whirring noises, everything was still. Peaceful. But almost as if it was just a figment of his imagination, a trick of the mind, a cry cut through the silence. It started low, soft puffs of air exhaled on moans and whimpers, but gradually turned to pitiful weeping. Before long, it was joined by others. Soon, sniffles and coughs added to the sounds around him.
The Dragon (G.O.N.Y. - Double Dragon) Page 4