Sin and Tonic

by Rhys Ford

  “Maybe. I might have a concussion. Doc said he wasn’t sure,” Miki corrected. “And I deserve something after today. I even looked at all the damned photos you gave me. Not my fault the guy wasn’t there. Or if he was, I didn’t recognize him.”

  Kane’s face changed. Under the scant light, he looked older and more tired than Miki’d seen before. He reached up to touch Kane’s mouth when Kane cupped Miki’s jaw, pulling his chin up and staring down into his eyes.

  Emotions played about in the smoky blue depths of Kane’s gaze, flickers of awareness Miki couldn’t begin to pin down. His cop was often hard to read, masked behind a veil of authority when working, and sometimes, despite Kane’s best efforts, the blood and gore followed him home, deepening the shadows in his eyes.

  And sometimes, Miki was the reason Kane shouldered a darkness he’d never asked for and couldn’t quite seem to shake.

  “I love you, a ghra,” Kane murmured. Pressing his mouth to the taped-over slice on Miki’s temple, he hooked his arm around Miki’s waist, pulling him closer. “God, I can’t take many more days like this. I want to put you in a room until this is all over so I know you’re safe.”

  “Dude, I’m already stuck in the warehouse. Anything smaller and I’m going to chew my own leg off.” He kissed Kane’s thumb, then bit at its swell. Hissing, Kane jerked his finger out of Miki’s mouth and let go of his face, shaking his hand. “Today was… fuck, that guy pissed me off.”

  “I still can’t believe you shot him,” Kane whispered. “And you don’t know if you hit?”

  “No idea. I just pointed and pulled the trigger. Dan shouldn’t drive with the safety off, but hell if I’m complaining about that. I just wanted that guy gone. I wasn’t going to go all Duck Hunt on him.” Miki shrugged. “I just wanted him to know I wasn’t going to go down easy. And I’d be fucked if he got to Damie or Dan.”

  He let himself be cuddled, sliding his legs in between Kane’s. His knee hurt, and he was pretty sure he still had bits of glass in his hair, but it felt good to be home.

  It felt like heaven being in Kane’s arms.

  “How about if you and I take a shower and I wash every inch of that gorgeous, bruised body of yours.” Kane bent his head, stealing a brief kiss. “Then, if you’re up to it, let me show you how damned glad I am you got to come home with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rock a bye, baby, don’t say a word

  Your cradle is broken, childhood’s all blurred

  In the house you once lived, all the windows are black

  Not who they wanted, can never go back

  Come play in the sunshine, We’ve all gathered here

  Laugh at the rainbows, learn to grin ear to ear

  So come find this family,

  Painting their roses bright bright red

  Come to us, Alice, And be loved instead

  —Roses for Alice

  THE ONLY thing Miki hated more than waking up alone was waking up alone with a note telling him it was okay he fell asleep on Kane.

  Still, his body ached in so many places, and the car tumbling about on a Chinatown street fucked up his knee something fierce. He hadn’t felt any pain in the joint when it happened, but as soon as the adrenaline and then relief at Damien’s well-being drained away, Miki found himself reaching for the bottle of painkillers he hadn’t touched in months.

  Dude gave him a reproachful look when he heard the rattle of pills.

  “Look, I fucking hurt and the stuff is supposed to take the swelling down,” he informed the dog. “Not like I’m going to take a handful. Just one.”

  Cradling the bottle in his hand, Miki realized it had been years since he’d had the urge to empty an entire bottle into his palm, toss the whole thing into his mouth, and wash it down with a fifth of Jack.

  “You were the start of pulling me away from that shit. You know that, Dude?” Miki scratched the dog’s ear, and Dude’s leg thumped against the bed in appreciation. “And Kane was the rest of it. But you man, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have hung on. So, just one so I can get out of bed without screaming like a smoky jungle frog.”

  It took five minutes for Miki to get out of bed. Most of it was spent cuddling the dog, but he was very much aware of every twinge in his knee when he stretched out his leg. Huffing short breaths, he gingerly swung his legs off the edge of the bed, then stood, sucking air in between clenched teeth until he could handle the sharp jabs along the joint.

  The dog, however, jumped off easily and trotted out of the bedroom.

  By the time Miki got to the front of the warehouse, he was breathing hard and disgusted to find another note from Kane taped to the bathroom door.

  “Call Liam when you get up. Damien is fine but Sionn is going to check them into a hotel so he doesn’t have to climb the stairs. There is probably a message on your phone—which I plugged in for you since it was dead—from Damien telling you which hotel. Mom probably will check on you later and Da sends his love. I love you too. Eat something,” Miki read the note to Dude after he was done with the bathroom. “The p.s. says you’ve already been fed and outside. But you probably need to potty.”

  Kane was right. A message from Damien was waiting, telling him that they’d not ended up in a hotel, choosing instead to take up Rafe’s offer of his penthouse, considering he and Quinn had moved into Quinn’s home near the Morgans. Frowning, he texted his brother, then tossed his phone onto the couch, intending to grab Dude’s leash from the hook by the front door.

  “Shit, I used to call Dan to cover me. Who the hell do I contact now?” Miki looked at the dog doing his potty dance across the living room floor. “I’ll text Sionn. He’s got to have somebody outside there. Hold on, Dude. I’m just going to take you out in the back.”

  It was a quick, furtive trip, and Dude seemed to understand Miki’s urgency, hastily doing his business, then bolting back in through the open door.

  Still… it wasn’t quick enough.

  Crouching at the back door to undo the latch on Dude’s leash, Miki didn’t see the man creeping up behind him until he felt hands on his shoulders. Startled, he swung his left arm back, his elbow connecting with something hard, but his knee—his damned knee—gave out.

  The pain was incredible. Nothing like he’d ever felt before, and it overwhelmed him, digging sickening shards into his stomach. His guts churned and he tried to swallow the bile coursing up his throat, but Miki couldn’t keep it down. Spitting out a mouthful of sticky green saliva, he fumbled to reach the doorknob, screaming at Dude to get back. Instead, the dog let loose a furious barking storm, his teeth gleaming white before disappearing into the fleshy mound of the hand on Miki’s right arm.

  It was enough of a distraction for the clawlike hand to jerk back, pulling Dude with it. Turning over, Miki kicked out with his good leg, hoping to hit any part of the man’s body, but his insides turned to ice when he caught a peek of a gun drawn out of the man’s loose jacket.

  He knew that face. He’d seen it before it had a bandage plastered across the cheek. Up close, it looked even more haggard than it had yesterday. Deep lines gouged into long brackets on either side of the man’s thin mouth, and his greased-back thinning dark hair gave in to gravity, flopping over his gaunt face. Folds of skin nearly obscured his eyes, pleats of crêpe-thin curtains caught up on his stubby lashes, but his glittering black gaze shone with malevolence Miki could almost taste. He was skinny to the point of almost being skeletal, and Miki’s mind fought with the memories of Shing crawling over him. They looked enough alike—smelled enough alike—for Miki’s body to react violently to the echoes of repulsion gathered in the corners of his mind.

  Dude refused to let go, and Miki screamed as the older man brought his gun up to the dog’s head, shouting at Miki with a spittle-flecked rage, “Lie face down or I will kill it. Just like your mother.”

  “Answer’s still fuck you, asshole!” Miki kicked, catching the man’s hip. He flung back, stumbling down the short st
oop, and landed in a puddle. The gun was still in his hand, but Dude was loose and Miki called him, “Dude! Home!”

  The terrier had very few tricks in his bag, but the one thing he knew was home. Kane worked diligently to get Dude to respond to normal commands, but the dog, in true owned-by-Miki fashion, marched to the beat of his own drum. There were very few people he respected enough to follow and barely a handful of words he acknowledged understanding, but he always listened when Miki told him to go home.

  The dog raced into the warehouse, and Miki twisted to reach the knob, slamming the door shut as soon as Dude was clear. It was a struggle for him to get on his feet, but he forced himself through the pain. He only needed to stand long enough to do one thing: launch himself at the man lying in the middle of the alleyway.

  “ARE YOU the inspector looking for my uncle?” A slender, pretty-faced Chinese man intercepted Kane as he exited the coffee shop.

  The street was full of people much like Kane, whose hands were loaded down with two coffee cups—one for him and one for Kel—and he debated tossing the lattes aside and reaching for his weapon. Something in his face must have given his thoughts away because the young man shook his head, then held his hands up.

  “I’m not here to cause problems, but rather provide solutions.” He cocked his head, drawing Kane’s attention to a café table on the coffee shop’s outside patio, its two empty chairs guarded by a pair of enormous, placid-faced men dressed in jeans and oversized leather jackets. The table had been separated from the rest of the patio, occupying a far corner of the gated area, giving them enough privacy to have a talk without attracting too much notice. “If we could just sit and talk for a moment, I think I can help you.”

  “I don’t know. My partner’s coffee will probably be cold by the time I get back if I do.” Kane matched the man’s professional smile with a scowl. “He really hates being kept waiting. Especially if I’m the one doing the coffee run.”

  “I can make it worth your while,” he replied. “And I can get An Chan to get you a couple of lattes before you leave. Please. It is imperative that you and I talk.”

  “You first.” Kane nodded at the table. “I’ll follow.”

  The other tables were occupied by tourists and people with late enough of a morning start to be able to sit and have a leisurely cup of coffee. A small cloud of harmless chatter followed them, mostly people making plans to take advantage of the relatively nice day, but he did hear a murmur of appreciation from a woman eyeing the young man’s ass as he walked by.

  His companion must have heard the comment, because a small smile was on his face when he sat down. The men standing near the table made way for Kane, distancing themselves with a few short strides to lean on the wrought iron fence enclosing the patio.

  “I take it you are Adam Lee. The last photo I have of you must be from a few years ago. You look different.” Kane eased himself into the open chair, setting the coffee cups down. “Unless there is somebody else’s uncle that I am looking for.”

  “My apologies. I should’ve introduced myself. I have recently lost a lot of weight, so my face was round.” Adam puffed out his cheeks. “And well, it has been a while since I have had the police take my picture. I was maybe nineteen?”

  “We’ve left messages for you and heard nothing, so I’m a little bit curious as to why you are here right now.” Kane gave a slight shrug, giving Lee a thin smile. “Other than the fact that they make really good coffee. I met your mother. Nice woman. Said she didn’t know anything about where your uncle was.”

  Kane kept an eye on the men behind Lee, not seeing any bulges beneath their jackets, but it was harder to tell if someone was armed under thick leather. One of them met Kane’s gaze and smiled, warm enough that Kane almost viewed it as flirtatious. Lee glanced behind him, smirking when he saw his employee’s expression go blank.

  “They act like I beat them, but mostly the guys like pretending they’re hard-core.” Lee chuckled. “Since we are going to be getting your partner a new coffee, do you mind if I have his?”

  “Help yourself,” Kane replied, moving Kel’s latte over. “You said something about your uncle?”

  “And you said something about my mother,” he murmured, picking up the coffee but not bringing it to his mouth. “My uncle is causing problems. Small ones, but violent ones.”

  “I don’t consider Sandy Chaiprasit and Rodney Chin being killed a small problem.” Kane shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling for his phone. The men by the fence stiffened, and the one who hadn’t smiled at him reached for the edge of his jacket, stopping only when Kane fixed a glare on him. “You might want to tell your friends that if I see them reaching one more time, we’ll be having this discussion someplace you would not like.”

  “None of my men are armed, Inspector. Well, not with a gun. Sammy probably has a baton, which he is going to leave in his pocket. You have to understand, with my uncle running around loose, it has made us all very jumpy.” Lee slouched back in his chair. He looked more like a game developer than a crime lord, especially with his artfully tousled black hair framing his narrow face and the nervous energy pouring off his slender frame. “I’ve never known my uncle. I was a few years old when he was put away. But I’ve heard enough stories from my mother. He is a… disruption. Not just to business but to my family.”

  “My family too,” Kane pointed out.

  “It is your family I do not want harmed or pissed off at me,” he said with a rueful expression on his face. “I inherited a business that sometimes operates in gray areas. A lot of businesses in Chinatown do, but I work very hard to keep things legal, even sometimes if it is at a disadvantage to me. Unfortunately, I still have people who feel a familial connection to my uncle Danny. I need to show them that following those connections—adhering to that misplaced loyalty—will serve them badly in the end. My mother handed me a dynasty, and if there is one thing that I know, one does not get into a war with another powerful family when the law is on their side. And you, Inspector Morgan, belong to a dynasty I do not want to battle.”

  “And here I thought you hadn’t met my father,” Kane drawled.

  “Your father is just the beginning of your family. You, your brothers—even your sister—are building blocks laid down in a very fertile field. I find it interesting that all of you seem to find a different section of the city and the department to work in, as if you intentionally leave room for the other to take over an area.” Lee finally took a sip of his coffee, making a face when Kel’s preference for quadruple shots in his latte hit his tongue. “Your partner must be very hairy to drink this all the time.”

  “I’ve never actually looked. So, you don’t want to get into a fight with the Morgans, but you’ve got to be careful of your relationship with your mother, even though Danny Wong killed your father?” Kane knew he’d made a hit when Lee’s eyes narrowed. “Funny coincidence, your uncle killed my fiancé’s mother. Now Wong’s trying to kill him and his father, and I don’t really have time to stop and have coffee with you unless you can help me get my hands on your uncle.”

  “That is exactly why I’m here today,” Lee remarked. “You see, my mother lied to you when you came to her apartment. She told you that she did not know where my uncle was hiding. The truth was Danny Wong was only a few rooms away from where you were. And the man who served you tea and coffee? That was Mark Zhou, the man who right now would kill me if he knew I had my uncle’s body in the back seat of my car.”

  MIKI DIDN’T give a shit that the man was at least thirty years older than him. Guns had a way of equalizing things. Maybe in some small part of his mind he knew his weak knee would give the other man an advantage. One kick. One good shot. And Miki would be down for the count.

  Truth was, none of those things mattered. None of those things entered his mind.

  It dawned on him he was staring at a man with a gun who’d come close to murdering him—nearly killed his brother—and worst of all, slaughtered his mother.
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  “You’re a hard one to kill,” the man shouted at him, a wide sneer tugging at his thin lips. “You’re a cockroach, just like your mother. But even roaches die when stomped on enough.”

  Achara’s faded, smiling face filled Miki’s mind, and suddenly his fingers itched to close around the man’s neck. The stoop gave him enough height, enough anchor to propel himself forward and onto his mother’s killer. There wasn’t anything in reach for him to grab. Not really. And that didn’t matter. This time he needed to feel the fight against his knuckles and let the blows rattle his shoulders. He was going to hurt. Hell, he already hurt.

  One more bruise wasn’t going to make a difference, not since he was going to die if he lost the fight.

  This time he was going to cause as much pain as was done to him his entire life, because he’d found the man who put him into Vega’s hands and tore him away from a woman who may not have been able to give him much but had given him her entire heart and soul. As much as he loved Kane and didn’t want to die, deep in his bones Miki knew it was time for someone to care about Achara Sangsom, and that someone would be her son.

  His knee found the killer’s crotch first. It wasn’t going to be a fair fight. Not if Miki could help it. The man grabbed at Miki’s hair, yanking to the side as he tried to bring his weapon up, but Miki smashed his fist into the man’s cheekbone, slamming his head back. The blow opened up the gunshot crease along his cheek and loosened the bandage over the wound. Blood poured out from under the gauze, and a rivulet caught in the wrinkles around the man’s mouth, diverting over his chin and jaw.

  Another punch to the man’s temple and Miki found himself flying, shoved off by a fierce push. The gun went wide, cast off by the man’s frantic flailing to get Miki off him. It landed a few feet away, its muzzle pointed toward Damien’s warehouse, its grip submerged in the water running down the middle of the alleyway’s length. Miki rolled, scrambling to get to the gun, but his footing gave out from under him, his sneakers unable to get a purchase on the painted concrete’s slick surface.