The Dragon (G.O.N.Y. - Double Dragon) Page 11

  is a leak!”

  Her sister frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why do you think they found us in the Catskills? We moved around to throw people off,

  but Kim still found us. Someone sold that information to Ramsey’s enemies! That’s why I didn’t call Brandon or the agency, because they have a leak and I don’t know who it is.”

  Confusion alit Delilah’s face. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

  “Of course you didn’t!” Jezebel snapped, pushing from the bed and pacing around the bedroom. “What did you tell him?”

  Looking apologetic, Delilah chewed on her bottom lip. “That we were with Ramsey.”

  “And?” She sensed there was more.

  “And we’re at his ancestral home in South Korea.”

  “Lilah!” Jezebel would have slapped her forehead if she wouldn’t end up giving herself a bigger headache.

  “I thought I was doing you a favor,” she ran a hand over her short curls. “I thought you were buying into Ramsey’s bullshit again.”

  “What?” Jezebel shook her head. “I’m not buying into anything. The only reason we’re here is because it’s the safest place for us right now! Despite everything that’s happened, I know he’ll keep us safe, even if it’s just for the baby.”

  “And when the baby’s born? What then? He’ll no longer need you or me. And if he does, are we supposed to live the rest of our lives in South Korea?”

  “Of course not!” Jezebel frowned. She hadn’t spoken to Ramsey about that as yet, but she assumed they were agreed on this being a temporary safe haven.

  “You didn’t tell me about the leak!” Delilah muttered accusatorily. At Jezebel’s glare, she continued, “I only told Brandon—”

  “Who will then tell his supervisors, who’ll tell their supervisors...”

  Delilah looked away, and down at her hands. “I didn’t know about the leak, Jez...” She shook her head. “Shit.” When her sister looked up, she seemed troubled and on the verge of tears. “I’d never do anything to put you and the baby in danger. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”

  Jezebel moved back to the bed, sat down, and patted her sister’s arm. “When did you call him?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  “On the landline?” It wasn’t as if they had cellular phones but maybe her sister had taken someone’s phone…

  Delilah nodded. Jezebel resisted the urge to groan again. The US Marshalls and the FBI had no jurisdiction in South Korea, but she wasn’t sure them having knowledge of her location wouldn’t compromise whatever safety precautions Ramsey had already taken.

  She’d have to tell him about the phone call. For one, the evidence was going to be in his phone records. Two, she didn’t want to jeopardize her safety or that of her child.

  Delilah’s warm hand slid over hers, and Jezebel focused on her sister. She hadn’t known about the leak, and had only been thinking of their safety after all. It had been a bad idea, but it had come from a good place. Ramsey wouldn’t see that. He hadn’t wanted to bring Delilah in the first place and telling him that her sister had called Brandon could only end badly.

  Jezebel drew a breath and let it out slowly.

  “Lilah…” she began, tightening her grip on her sister’s arm. “I need you to tell me exactly what you told Brandon. Everything.”

  ***

  “The gym?” Paces behind him, Bastian snorted. Ramsey continued on, keeping his pace brisk as he walked past treadmills, ellipticals, and other cardio machines stacked beside each other on the left, and weight machines and free weights on the right. He didn’t slow down until he reached the lone room at the other end of the gym. “Why are we here?”

  Entering the room, Ramsey flicked on the lights. Numerous lockers, most empty, stared back at him. Various types of equipment were stacked neatly in different corners. He surveyed them all with a critical eye, before moving to one pile. Grabbing the mesh bag, he pulled it over to a table near his locker, and hoisted it up.

  “Am I being punished?” Bastian drawled, boredom clear from his tone. “Is that it? I’ve been bad, and as the head of our wonderful criminally inclined family, you’re required to mete out punishment? Or is it justice in your eyes?”

  Ramsey opened his locker. He removed his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them inside. He slipped into a clean t-shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers. The servants maintained the house when it was both occupied and unoccupied. As such, gym-wear was laundered every week regardless of whether it was worn or not. His grandfather had liked rules, repetition, and Ramsey had been under his tutelage for so long that he too had come to appreciate the small things that kept his world organized.

  When he stepped to the mesh bag and began removing the equipment, Bastian sighed before he spoke again. “Am I supposed to follow your lead and change my clothes?” When he didn’t receive an answer, his brother snorted. “You told me to follow you and here I am. What do you want?”

  “Change.” He spoke in a slow and soft voice.

  “Why?” Bastian continued, his voice suggesting he hadn’t a care in the world. “My clothes are comfortable and I have no intention of working out with you.”

  “Change.”

  “Now, Ramsey,” his brother began, his voice placating as if he was addressing a child. “You may be the head of this family, the fearsome Dragon…” He chuckled. “…but I am not one of your men to be ordered around like―”

  His sentence ended up a choked cough, followed by a gasp for air as Ramsey spun, caught him by the throat, and slammed him into the locker. His brother’s ease fled as he fought back, clawing at Ramsey’s hand and trying unsuccessfully to push him away, while glaring at him with the hatred he usually kept suppressed.

  “What were you saying, little brother?”

  Ramsey eased his hold a bit.

  “Fuck you!”

  He tightened his grip again, watching Bastian’s face and neck redden, his eyes water, before he

  released him completely. Bastian pushed away from him, bending over to haul in great breaths as he hacked and attempted to regain his composure. Ramsey waited until the coughing subsided before he queried, “Did that upset you?” At his brother’s look of derision, Ramsey smiled. “You’ve been angry for a long time, Bastian, almost all your life.” Bastian straightened, still coughing, and walked to where bottles of water were stacked in boxes beside the table. As he uncorked one and began to drink from it, Ramsey continued. “You’ve always wanted my life, haven’t you?” His brother froze, but didn’t turn around. “That’s why you married Sarah, isn’t it?” Bastian turned slowly, his eyes hard and burning with anger. “Because she was supposed to be mine? Why you moved to New York for business school when you didn’t even like the subject?” When Bastian took a step forward, Ramsey cocked his head to one side and remarked, “Admit it, Bastian, you’ve spent your entire life trying and failing to be me.” He continued moving, until he was barely a foot away from Ramsey. “So you want to be me? You want to be Kang Jae Ramsey Stone, Dragon of the Ssang Yong Pa?”

  “Why the fuck would I want to be you?” Bastian spat, lip curling down as he closed the already small gap between them. “I’m better than you!”

  “Is that it?” Ramsey smiled even as different emotions began to war within him. “You think you can do a better job?”

  Bastian’s lips parted, but he pursed them again, and narrowed his eyes. Ramsey lifted a brow and waited. “I don’t think. I know.”

  Ramsey stared at Bastian for long minutes, the low purr of the central heating system the only sound between them, before he dipped his head. “Today’s your chance to prove it.”

  With that, he moved back to the bag and removed the boxing helmet and gloves. Within seconds, he was heading for the door.

  “W-what?”

  He paused at the door but didn’t spare his brother a backward glance. “I’ll be in the ring for 10 minutes. If you don’t show up, I never want hear
you bitching about anything again.”

  “And if I show up? If I win?”

  “If you win, you can have it all.”

  “Everything?” Bastian sounded skeptical.

  Ramsey decided to clarify. “The title, the prestige, the inheritance, everything.”

  “Over a boxing match?” Bastian didn’t seem convinced.

  “Boxing is the sport of kings and champions, Bastian.” From a young age, he and Bastian had been in both rings and dojangs. Although his expertise was taekwondo, their grandfather’s favorite sport was western boxing, so they’d been trained in both. Kang Jae Seong liked to boast that there was no gimmick in boxing, no middle ground. You either won or you lost. Ties were a loser’s way of feeling better about himself. “Are you ready to prove you’re either?”

  ***

  As she made her way to his room, Jezebel felt apprehensive. She didn’t fear Ramsey. He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d be upset yes, but he’d get over it. At least, she hoped he would. Knocking on his door, she waited. When no answer came, she knocked again, harder this time. Once more, there was no response. She turned and was hightailing it back to her room when she halted. She’d have to tell him at some point, and it was always better to rip the band-aid off than do it inch by miserable inch. Her feet led her back to his door, where she knocked, called out, and again receiving no response, she entered.

  ***

  Bastian had always been a good boxer. At the age of fifteen, he’d been able to hold his own against Ramsey, and he’d either kept up with the sport or his instincts were coming back.

  Ducking away from a right hook, Ramsey circled him. “I thought you were better than me.” His brother lunged forward angrily, and he knocked him back with a quick jab. “You’re too emotional.”

  Getting wiser, Bastian circled him, testing him, looking for weaknesses. Ramsey didn’t see the next punch, and his ears rang from the force. He turned out and bounced back, shaking his head.

  “How’s that for emotional?” Bastian taunted, leaping forward to box him into the ring. Maneuvering behind his brother, he kicked the back of his knee hard, sending him pitching forward into the ropes.

  “That’s cheating―”

  Kicking his leg out again, he watched Bastian go down further, until his head was between the second-to-last and last ropes. Ripping off his gloves, Ramsey was on him, gripping his hair, pulling his head up with one hand, and catching his throat with the next.

  “Cheating?” he hissed. “You want to be The Dragon and you’re complaining about me cheating?” Bastian tried to shake him off but he was vulnerable, and eventually, he accepted it and stopped moving. “I’m only going to tell you this once so listen carefully: I am what I am not because I’m the firstborn, or the chosen son. I have the title because I earned it, because I am willing to do things that would make you sick, because I don’t act like a little bitch when things don’t go my way, because I poured blood and sweat into growing this business―”

  “And I haven’t?” Bastian demanded in a raw voice. “I haven’t earned it? I did what he wanted. I married a girl who was still in love with you because it was my duty. I sacrificed my life willingly for this family! I didn’t follow you to New York! I was sent there! And don’t talk to me about blood. Fuck you and your blood! My daughter is dead!” Ramsey released him, and Bastian pushed himself up. Angry tears were in his eyes.

  “My baby, my precious girl.” His voice broke. “Dead.”

  Bastian glared at him and his mouth worked before closing again.

  “Say it.” Ramsey waited.

  “She’s dead because of you! You-you might as well have killed her, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  Ramsey took the accusation in stride. He blamed himself so it was only natural that his brother blamed him too. “Imagine if you’d shown her this affection when she was alive.” Perhaps it was cruel to say those words but Ramsey had held them in for a long time. Since Bastian was getting some things off his chest, Ramsey was going to indulge in the spirit of this “boxing” match as well.

  “I loved my daughter!” Bastian snarled.

  “You loved her so much you were barely there for the first half of her life, and the second, you were too drunk to be anything else but a nuisance.”

  “Shut up, Ramsey!” Bastian closed his eyes and shook his head, obviously in pain.

  “You want to be The Dragon and can’t handle the truth?” he taunted. “You say you loved your daughter but you never showed it. You had everything but you were too busy pining over the one thing you didn’t have to appreciate it!”

  Bastian released a bitter laugh. “I had everything? I had a wife who wished I was you!”

  “And an innocent child who would have loved you for you!” He might not have been so close to Lily had Bastian not been such an absentee father. When Bastian, Sarah, and Lily had made the transition to New York, Ramsey had called weekly to check-in. It was through those conversations that he learned of his brother’s disinterest in his family. From then, he’d made it a priority to visit Sarah and Lily, if only to fill the gap his brother left. From the moment he’d held Lily in his arms and she’d offered him a gum-filled grin and attempted to eat his finger, he’d been captivated. As she grew, taking her first steps, learning to ride a bike, swim, fish, he’d been there…

  “You made my daughter love you more than she loved me.” Bastian leaned against the ropes and removed his gloves, tossing them away one by one.

  “You did that all on your own by being a selfish bastard and a poor excuse for a father. You chose your fate, and you had one real job to do: love your daughter. You failed miserably.” Ramsey shook his head. “How do you expect to be The Dragon when you couldn’t even do that simple task?”

  “I loved my daughter, Ramsey!”

  “It doesn’t matter if she didn’t know it.”

  “I loved my daughter―”

  “And how many times did you show her, tell her?” When Bastian didn’t answer immediately, Ramsey continued. “How many times did you take her to the park? The ice-skating rink? The zoo? A Broadway show? She loved those. Lion King? Disney on Ice? No? How many times did you let her sit in your office, coloring or drawing or doing homework while you worked from home? How many times did you take her to dinner after school on Fridays, just to spend time with her?” When there was no answer, just a look of pain and sadness, Ramsey approached him and demanded, “How many times, Bastian?”

  Turning away, he moved to the opposite side of the ring and grabbed the upper rope. He was about to step out when Bastian spoke. “I hate you.”

  He turned to face him. With a shake of his head, Ramsey replied, “You don’t hate me, Bastian. You hate yourself. Everything I am, you wish you could be. Everything I have, you want for yourself. You want it so badly you failed to appreciate what you had until it was gone.”

  Bastian let out a cry and rushed him, taking him off guard. They fell into the ropes, grappling and struggling, grunting, punching, kicking and throwing. The fight was on again, but this time, the gloves were off.

  Chapter 7

  “Under all anger is fear, and under all fear is fear of loss."

  ―Anonymous

  Jezebel awoke to the sound of rustling and movement. A quick perusal of the dimly lit room told her she was not in her bedroom. Pushing up from where she lay on her side, she shook her head and tried to remember where she was. Seconds later, the cobwebs cleared enough for insight into where she was and why she was here. She’d wanted to see Ramsey, and had been waiting on his bed for his return. She must have fallen asleep because the sun was now setting.

  The sound of running water had Jezebel looking in the direction it came from, searching for the source. From behind a closed door, yellow light pierced through the slight crevices where the door met the frame.

  Had he seen her? She wondered, before dismissing the thought. Of course he’d seen her. She was only a very large form on his bed. It wasn’t that dark in the room either
. She was walking to the door, having decided to come back later, when she’d had the opportunity to wash her face and truly wake up, when his voice halted her.

  “Did you need something, Jezebel?”

  She turned to find him standing in the doorway, yellow light surrounding him and spilling into the room. He’d removed his shirt, and stood there in thigh-length gym shorts with a dark towel draped around his neck. His hair was slicked back. His face and chest glistened.

  “Yes, I was waiting to speak to you.” She cleared her throat to get rid of her voice’s sleepy rasp. At least, that was what she told herself.

  He stepped further into the room, his body becoming no more than a dark shadow without the bright glow of the light. “Is something wrong?”

  “I-I…” She steeled herself, running a hand across her extended belly and pulling the shirt down.

  Ramsey stopped before her. “What’s wrong?” She detected concern in his voice.

  “I called Brandon.” There, she’d said it. From the moment she’d left Delilah in her room to come to Ramsey, Jezebel had known this was the tale she’d tell him. Ramsey had no great love for her sister, and Delilah’s mistake could result in her being sent away. Jezebel wouldn’t allow it, so to ensure that her sister stayed with her without the added hassle of fighting Ramsey to make it so, this had to be done.

  He didn’t move nor did he speak. Thinking she’d whispered it, Jezebel straightened her spine, looked at his shadowed face, and repeated herself. “I called Brandon, Ramsey. I needed confirmation that he was fine, and I wanted to tell him that I―we are okay.”

  When long seconds passed, filled only with the sounds of their breathing, Jezebel nodded and took a step back. “I just thought you should know. I shouldn’t have called him, but I did. I had to make sure my team was okay.” Ramsey didn’t respond, or make any move to follow her, so she turned and began navigating her way to his door.

  “I told you they were fine.” He spoke in a low voice as if he refused to use energy to speak louder. “You asked about your team when we were in New York. I found out and told you.”