by T. K. Toppin
Adam stood in one fluid motion and faced his brother. He was slightly stooped, and an inch taller than John, but they otherwise looked very alike. “That’s perfect. Dinner? No doubt Aline will want to cook.” He shuddered as he turned to me and bowed courteously. “It was a pleasure to have met you, and tomorrow I will get to know you better. I’m running late now, so…until then.”
With that, he left.
I glanced at John, raising my brows. “Okay. That was like, weird.”
John snorted, and settled next to me. He tucked a hand into mine and gave it a squeeze. Leaning over, his lips pressed against my temple. “I love my brother dearly, but he’s a complicated man.”
“Nooo. Really? It must be a Lancaster thing.” I twined my fingers through his, noting a hangnail on his ring finger—probably from all that chewing he did. “He’s okay, I suppose. I like him, sort of. He’s…quirky.”
John grinned. “He’s always been trying to get into my business—personal business. Always giving me advice, that sort of thing. He can’t help himself.”
“What, like how to kiss girls and when’s the right time to touch their titties?” I laughed.
“Sort of.” John fidgeted. He didn’t laugh, so I knew it was serious. “More like deciding who was right for me and who was not. He was born to be a strategist. To him, the entire world around him is like one big chessboard. It’s his nature. After Father died, he thought it was his right to step in, or shall I say, mouth in. But it wasn’t going to happen.”
“You mean he dictated who did what? I thought after your father died, you were the natural successor.”
“Sort of. I was, but…”
I turned to face him. His face tightened, so I settled a hand against it. “What happened?”
He blew out a breath and leaned back, letting his head rest on the back of the couch, a deep furrow between his brows. I knew he was at ease with me, enough to unburden himself of his troubles. But this was stepping into deep personal family territory, and I wondered if he might clam up. I didn’t want to push it, so waited until he’d processed his thoughts.
“I didn’t want to lead at first.” John closed his eyes, tiredness softening his words. “I was quite happy doing something else. But I thought about it, and there really was no one else to do it. Father was right. I was the correct choice. After he died, Adam tried to take over things. He’d always been keen on politics and things of that nature. But he was too sick, as usual. He knew it; we all did. And his business, it hampered things too. He was distracted with it, and he was about to relocate to Taiwan and, well, he couldn’t do both. He’d always been giving advice and planning things for us, Aline and myself, and we looked up to him in a sense. More out of respect since he was the eldest and much older, well, than I am, at least. He and Father were the closest out of all of us. I was the last resort son, the heir but a spare, so to speak, and skated under his radar. I didn’t mind at all. But then they fell out. I don’t know what they argued about, but it was serious, and they didn’t speak for some time. It was around that time Father started changing things, making things…better.”
John rubbed at his eyes. “I was about fifteen or so when he finally turned his attention to me. He saw me with new eyes. I don’t know why, but I hated the attention. He started training me, schooling me to lead. Eventually Adam reconciled with him, but it was still very strained, and then concentrated on doing what he does now. He’s very good at it. But if given the chance, he loves to tell you what’s what and what should be done. Sometimes, I covet his mind, how it works. He sees everything beforehand, just like a brilliant chess player.”
“And that’s not all of it, is it?”
“He’s always had a bit of an ego, and just loves to give you his advice on everything. It gets tiring. Aline just ignores it and tells him off. But we love him anyway, like the odd brother no one likes to talk about.” John hesitated, then added, “He’s also greedy, and loves money far too much.”
I nodded, understanding immediately. “And if he got wind of who I was…” I didn’t finish, not wanting to offend John.
He smiled. “And I adore your mind. You catch on surprisingly quick. Which is why it’s best to keep quiet about your past, else he’d want to make a killing off you.”
Chapter 34
John looked forward to speaking with his brother again. Despite the normal brotherly urge to be secretive and slightly competitive, he respected Adam’s way of thinking. The man was brilliant.
Not quite needing advice, John wanted more to pick his brother’s brain and see if he came up with the same thing. The Path weighed down on him, and he needed to air out his thoughts elsewhere. It was a comfort talking with Josie, but there were some matters he couldn’t tell her, even though he wanted to.
Like Wellesley.
It had been him in Germany. But he’d been long gone by the time John arrived to find nothing but a message, left on a personal unit that had been delivered—how, he didn’t know—and left inside his private shuttle.
“Follow Michael Ho,” it had said before self-destructing and melting into a knob of plastic and metal.
Michael Ho was already under investigation, as were a number of Wellesley’s associates. Ho was another mystery. The name didn’t exist. Was he Uron Koh? Possibly, but not definitely. On the surface, Ho was a businessman, but the exact nature of his business was another unknown, just as were his whereabouts. It frustrated John that, with all the power and resources he had available, he couldn’t track down a single person, let alone an organization bent on killing him and Josie and bringing down the government. Curse Wellesley for leaving mere snippets of information!
Maybe if he posed a hypothetical scenario to Adam, he might see something John missed. But Adam was clever enough to see right through the ruse. He should just come right out and tell the truth. John’s cautious nature resisted; the information was too sensitive. But Adam was still his brother. He was family.
“John,” Josie called from behind him.
It was one of the rare moments she was at his house. John preferred Josie’s apartment; it felt more homely. She came out from the shower, hair wet and clinging to her scalp, her face scrubbed and glowing. The smell of soap on her skin washed his mind blank. With only a towel draped over her shoulders, her naked body was distracting as her small breasts peeked out from under the towel.
“You have all these grooming products, but…where the fuck is your comb?”
John tutted. “Bring that dirty mouth of yours here.” He yanked her by the hand and pulled, then pressed an enveloping kiss over her mouth. Her giggles came out muffled, then subsided as she returned the kiss wholeheartedly.
They stood before his bedroom terrace, locked in an embrace. John felt his blood surging back down to his groin.
He groaned. Can I not stop wanting her? He hoisted her up by her bottom and together they tumbled onto the bed. I guess not.
It was quick, urgent, and inflamed with passion. Not at all like earlier, when they’d taken their time and explored, touching gently and speaking softly.
Afterward, still clinging to him urgently, Josie groaned. He thought he heard her whimper in pain. Pushing up onto an arm, he looked down, alarmed. He was certain he hadn’t been that rough, but then, he’d been rendered into insensibility to notice much else. Come to think of it, she’d been very vocal while, he distinctly remembered, he’d been grunting just as loud with effort. He must have hurt her; even he felt a little sore.
“Did I…are you hurt?” John cupped her distraught face, realizing then that she wasn’t wincing in pain, just struggling with agitation.
She shook her head, unable to talk from gasping. “It’s just…now I have to shower all over again.”
Relief washed him instantly. His tough little terrorist. A devilish grin twisted his face. “Go nasty.”
“We don’t have to go, do we?” Josie wriggled to get comfortable under him.
“Not really. I just thought you
might like a meal out instead of in, as we usually do.” John ran an idle hand over her nipple. His attention to dinner plans had waned, but not because of her nakedness. His thoughts had picked up where they’d left off before Josie interrupted.
“What?” Propping on one elbow, she turned to face him. “Work stuff?”
He nodded and, without looking directly at her, chose his next words carefully. “Would you say that Wellesley is…can be trusted?”
Josie remained silent for a moment, as if processing her thoughts. A small crease appeared between her brows; her eyes flitted to him in such a way that it seemed like she wanted to know why he’d ask such a question. John watched her closely, his eyes boring into her. Did he hope to see if she still held a torch for Wellesley? That she’d lie? Fear took hold, and he almost didn’t want to know her answer.
“I don’t know anymore. Yes, but…” Josie sighed, a defeated sound. “So much has happened since. Most people would run the other way and never look back. You know I still…you know, care about him. Like for his safety and well-being sort of care. I can’t just forget what he and Max did for me. They were good to me. Helped me. But do I know him enough? To trust him? That last night, the way he looked…”
Josie’s face twisted in anguish, as if reliving the night in the bamboo forest. John’s chest tightened at the memory of it. He never wanted to see her like that again.
“Something changed him. That night. Like, I don’t know, a realization of guilt, responsibility maybe for Max. He looked different that night.” She paused for a long moment. “Yes. I trust him. He’s a good person despite what he was—is—involved in. And I can’t forget that. That kindness in him, and what he did for me. Why do you want to know?”
Mimicking her, John propped up on an elbow and faced her, but kept his eyes averted, inspecting the sheets between them. His other hand was inches from touching her, but he feared that if it did, it might burn to a crisp. Especially now, with what he was about to say.
“I lied to you.” He whispered it so softly.
Silence.
“Germany,” Josie said at last in a quiet, flat tone.
His mouth twitched in response, then he hesitantly told her what had happened, still unable to meet her eyes. He felt those green orbs scorching his face with hate; gouging chunks of flesh as they bore into him with accusation. His skin tingled as if numb; perhaps she’d poisoned him with her stare. He risked a quick look and was quite surprised to see her watching him with interest. The light crease between her brows remained, but she chewed at her bottom lip.
“You’re not…angry with me?” He’d expected a full-fledged shouting scene with her blasting him with obscenities and possibly another slap in the face. He would’ve understood that and probably taken the beating he deserved, but her reaction now unnerved him. He didn’t know what to do now.
“Hmm?” Josie focused on him as if seeing him for the first time. She snorted a response. “You’ve told me now. And it wasn’t quite a lie. I asked if you saw him, and you didn’t, which was true. And then you said no more, so…” Josie sat up, huffing out. “So he’s helping you?”
“It appears so.” A knot eased in his stomach, and he let out a silent breath.
She turned to look at him closely. “Hey. I know you can’t tell me everything, especially President Stuff. But if it concerns me—us—it’d be nice to have a little heads-up, okay?” She offered a lopsided smile. “And I’m not angry, just a little pissed. But I am angry you didn’t tell me someone tried to kill me again, then tricked me into wearing that body-shield. Like I’d believe you saying it was just for precaution, my bony ass!”
“How did you know?” John sat up now, surprised and unsure of what to say. How did she know? Looking at her sullen face, he realized maybe he should’ve told her about it when it happened. He wasn’t quite used to this “relationship” thing. So far, he seemed to be making a lot of mistakes. Be honest, but not too honest, protective but not too protective? It was all so confusing.
“I’m not stupid, you know.” Knees up and hands hugging her ankles, Josie rested chin to knees, visibly annoyed. “Sunil told me.”
“I never said you were stupid, and who is this Sunil?” He didn’t have anyone on the security detail with that name. He frowned for a moment. Was he some man she’d met?
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I was going to have another meltdown? Okay, I was a bit out of it then and, maybe a little part of me wanted to die anyway. But still, you could’ve told me. And what else haven’t you told me? As in, have there been any more attempts on my life? Something like that would be nice to know about.”
“No.” He put a cautious hand on her back. She didn’t flinch or try to shake it off, so he rubbed lightly at the base of her neck. He heard her snort again. “But you are in danger. We both are. We think there’s someone, or more, on the inside working against us.”
Snapping her head around, Josie’s mouth gaped in horror. “Yeah, well…” she stammered and jerked her shoulders. “Everyone wants to kill you anyway. Big fucking deal, that’s nothing new. But I’m a bit of a newbie at this, so you’ll pardon me if I’m a bit testy.”
John kissed the side of Josie’s head, his hand still comfortingly kneading her neck. “I’ll not let anything happen to you if I can stop it, you know that. If you stick to this sector, you’re safe, and don’t go wandering around meeting men called Sunil. You hear me?” He nudged her gently with his forehead. “We’ve raised the level of security here, but I still want you wearing that shield. Even if it’s to walk across the foyer to come here. Yes?”
She nodded, but her bottom lip pushed out. “Sunil is the little boy in the garden. He’s four years old. And you should be jealous. He’s very handsome, and always gives me lots of kisses.” Josie turned her head slightly and smiled at John; he felt the heat scorching his face. Satisfied she’d shamed him good and proper, she turned around again, chin buried in her knees.
“John.” She eventually said softly. “I trust you more.”
In the end, they didn’t go anywhere.
* * *
Simon spent hours upon hours searching and delving into the many layers that hid the life of Michael Ho. He’d spent a full week on it, realizing that the only way to track a man was to go from the bottom up, meaning getting down to the nature of how the man lived.
Since physically scrambling through garbage was out of the question, he resorted to scrambling through electronic garbage. Everyone left some kind of electronic defecation. After searching through credit card records for food to restaurant bills and basic everyday needs, to household appliances all across the continent and the Americas, he finally had something. Simon whooped triumphantly and transferred the data onto his personal unit. After encoding it, he sent it across to John’s unit.
Two minutes later, John’s face appeared in the tiny screen. “Sure?”
Simon nodded. “He has a firm in Korea. It’s neutral territory, so we can’t touch him.”
“Five minutes.” John winked out.
Exactly five minutes later, John strode through Simon’s door. He appeared a little disheveled, which was very unlike John. Simon took in his half-buttoned shirt, askew pants and lack of shoes with a querying eyebrow.
“None of your business,” John replied, embarrassed, but couldn’t hide the lopsided, boyish smirk. His face was flushed, and a light sheen of dampness glittered over his skin.
“I suppose it’s none of Mrs. Trudesson’s business either when you two soil the clean sheets she puts out daily. Very disgusting habit you two have. I mean, every day?”
John widened his eyes and stammered something incoherent. “I-I thought the cleaning droid changed the sheets! Why is your wife cleaning—”
Simon sniggered. “John, you love-sick fool! You fell right into that one. But now I know, you stud-muffin.”
Clamping his mouth down, John replied through thinned lips. “I would, if I could, answer back with a choice explet
ive.”
“I see some of her is growing on you,” Simon mumbled with a grin. “Must be all that…friction.”
“Stop it.” John scrubbed a hand over his face.
The rest of Simon’s household was sound asleep, it being late in the night. Coziness draped over the place. It was a family home, comfortably messy with a scatter of toys and the smell of dinner still lingering in the air, morphing with light feminine touches about the house. It wasn’t like John’s home, which was cold and stark with its sleek furnishings and dark, clinically sterile atmosphere. Though the lights were dimmed for the night, Simon’s home still looked warm and inviting. His office was just off the main living room, tucked away between his daughter’s toy cabinet and the entertainment center. A literal hole-in-the-wall, but it sufficed. Simon rarely worked from home unless it was important. And this was.
“Korea,” John said distractedly. “Do you know what kind of business?”
“Not really. But there’s a small electronic trail, in fact, only one. He purchased a pair of sunglasses in Tokyo last week. He used a company card listed as MH Holdings, based in Korea. All I’ve got is a virtual postal box address. And no such business under that name seems to pop up anywhere. I’ll do some more digging and see how many more times his company card comes up.”
“How did you find it?”
“When his credit card was used, it pinged the only fingerprint we had of him…the partial we took from Wellesley’s house.”
“Who can we send?”
“Two come to mind.”
“Send them.”
“Now?”
John nodded. “You think Wellesley has known this all along? He’s helping; we know the reasons why. But he strikes me as running a one-man show driven by revenge. If he did know, why hasn’t he told us?”
“Like leaving breadcrumbs for us to scratch our heads and figure out? Did you really think he’d be handing us stuff? No. Personally, I don’t think so. If he did, why tell us? Why not just go straight to the source and snuff him out? Wellesley’s a man of action, but he’s not stupid. He’ll wait for us to make a move, then move in. We’ve got the resources. Remember, we trained him. He’ll follow his instincts, patiently, and he’ll gather as much information as he can before he acts.”