The Dragon (G.O.N.Y. - Double Dragon) Read online

  She felt a bit relieved by that but couldn’t help but chime, “Ah, of course. How lovely. He goes through my trash and takes it? Isn’t that illegal?”

  Raquel shook her head. “Trash isn’t owned. Anyone can take it.” At her glare, the other woman sighed. “Jezebel, think of your safety and the safety of those people closest to you. We’re federal agents. We’re just doing our job, and our job is to protect innocent people like you.” Raquel reached into her side bag and retrieved a card. She placed it on the coffee table. “Think about it and give me a call, but don’t think too long. Our sources are pretty reliable and if what happened to Lily Stone is any indication, you’re likely the next target.”

  With that, she gave Jezebel a slight nod and walked to the front door.

  Chapter 2

  “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

  Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

  ―William Congreve

  Jezebel Carter was a logical person.

  She hadn’t become the CEO of her own hedge fund by running on pure emotion. There had been many naysayers when she’d broken away from a large, successful company to start her own, and many had taken jabs at her physical qualities rather than her work-product. They’d called her names, some to her face, but she’d smiled and succeeded. From that experience, she’d learned an important lesson. Sometimes, the best way to deal with a difficult situation was to remove oneself from it and analyze it with new, fresh eyes.

  It was for that reason that, as she sat on her bed mulling over the conversation she’d just had with Agent Raquel Daniels, she punched in the number on her cellular phone keypad. It rang for a long time, so long Jezebel was about to end the call, thinking that perhaps this was some sign that she shouldn’t have made it in the first place, when the tone fell away to silence, and a low voice answered, “Yea?”

  She froze, before taking a steadying breath. “Vince?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “This is Jezebel…”

  Silence.

  He probably didn’t remember her. Anger rose in her body, every bit of it directed at Ramsey, but she pushed it down. Ignoring her stung pride, she said clearly, “…from the funeral.”

  “I know who you are,” he replied in a tone that sounded bored at worst, neutral at best. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to speak to Ramsey.”

  More silence.

  She frowned. “Hello?”

  “You can tell me whatever you have to tell Ramsey. I’ll give him the message.”

  Jezebel inhaled deep and released the breath. She had to remain calm, because if she lost her cool, it would go downhill from there. “Vince, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Beyond seeing you today, I’ve never heard anything about you and I’d imagine the same goes for me.” She paused. He remained silent, as she’d expected. “What I have to tell Ramsey is personal and important so I’d like to have his cell phone number now. Thank you.”

  She heard him inhale slowly, almost as if he was pulling in air through his teeth, before he said in that same monotone, “I’m not authorized—”

  “I really don’t give a shit what you are or are not authorized to do!” So much for logical and cool, but this wasn’t a regular business situation. It was one thing to lose money; money could be re-earned. It was quite another to lose lives, and according to Raquel, one such life had already been lost. If, as the FBI agent had said, a young child had been murdered because of Ramsey’s underground affiliations, then Jezebel could likely be in danger. First and foremost, she had to protect herself and her family. But to do so, she needed to speak to Ramsey. She’d been in a relationship with a man who had dangerous enemies. She wanted to know what she was facing, and though Raquel had given her a run-through, Jezebel still didn’t trust her. She’d mentioned that she was helping Jezebel to make up for the past, but Jezebel didn’t believe her…at least not fully. Raquel was doing her job, and for some reason, her job was to get Jezebel into protective custody. “You’re going to give me his phone number or I’m going to drive over to his apartment and—”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Then give me the number!” Her voice wasn’t quite a scream, but it was getting there.

  “I’ll let him know you were asking.”

  “Shut up and listen to me,” she growled. “Tell your cowardly asshole of a cousin that this isn’t about us. There is no us! I get it. I’m not some stupid twit he has to filter out of his life. I don’t want to be in his life or anywhere near it! This is about my safety and my family’s safety...”

  “Jezebel…calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Who did he think he was? She didn’t even know him. And she was calm, damn it! Calm was relative and given the situation, she was calm!

  “Are you in danger right now?” He asked the question as if he knew the answer.

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Then I’ll let him know you called.”

  She shook her head. “You know what? Just forget it! Don’t tell him I called. Don’t tell him anything. Pretend the call never happened. Your cousin’s good at pretending so it shouldn’t be very hard for you.” Without waiting for his response, she ended the call and tossed the phone onto her bed. Looking down at her fingers, she realized she was still holding Raquel’s business card.

  As Jezebel stared at the bolded letters on the stiff card, still upset about the conversation she’d just had, she reached for her phone again.

  ***

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Ramsey watched him carefully, noting his confusion, his slight surprise, and finally, his attempt to pretend he didn’t understand the question. The slight twitch at his right eye might go unnoticed by many, but Ramsey had been around him enough during his lifetime to recognize it for what it was: a nervous tick.

  “What? Why did I do what?”

  Lifting the expensive cigar back to his lips, Ramsey inhaled deep, savoring the rich blend of tobacco and cognac from a king’s reserve, before releasing it into the night air. Patrick Seong was one of the few men he knew who appreciated cigars so much as to pay close to a thousand dollars for one. Ramsey couldn’t say he was surprised. Pat appreciated the finer things in life. From his luxury condo with its fantastic view of the New York skyline, to his expensive vacation homes, cars, clothes, shoes, education, Pat always came out on the side of money. For years, that had been Ramsey’s side. It was for that reason that Ramsey had told Vince to double-check when he discovered his uncle, this uncle, was the one with ties to the FBI.

  “Are you wearing a wire?”

  Pat’s head snapped back and he instantly began to shake it. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Ramsey, but I’m—”

  “Hangsang meonjeo gajog-eul neoh-eo.” He easily spoke over his uncle, who broke off when he realized the words and their significance. “Always put family first.”

  As closely as he watched Pat, Ramsey saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly under his thin

  summer shirt. Pat took a deep drag of his cigar and released a slow stream of smoke into the air. For one so sad, the day had been warm, but beautiful. The night followed, and was slightly cooler, allowing him to be comfortable in his suit jacket. “Wise words from a wise man.”

  Ramsey didn’t respond. After spending close to nine decades on earth, his grandfather had to be wise. Kang Jae Seong, for whom Ramsey was named, would often sprout his best phrases in the midst of acts of brutality he’d force his grandson to watch.

  “No.” Pat looked directly at him, before returning his attention to the view of buildings. “I’m not wearing a wire.”

  When Ramsey only lifted a brow, Pat snorted and shook his head. Holding his cigar in one hand, he unbuttoned his short-sleeved summer shirt, leaving the two halves open and blowing slightly with the night breeze.

  Satisfied, Ramsey asked, “Have you ever worn one around me or any of our family?”

  “
Never.” It was said with the utmost disgust, as if he’d never entertain the idea.

  “You say it as if you haven’t been speaking to federal agents about our family.”

  Pat’s gaze swung back to him and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about our family—”

  “Be careful with your words, Pat, they just may be your last.”

  His uncle held his gaze for long moments before he snorted, shook his head and looked back to the skyline. “The old man always said you were a natural, born to lead.”

  Ramsey quirked a brow. Was that why he went to the feds? Pat wanted the title of Dragon? Even as the question entered his mind, Ramsey was inclined to dismiss it. Pat might crave money, but he’d never struck Ramsey as the type who wanted the responsibility that came along with it.

  Pat took another drag from the cigar. “He said that about your mother too, would lament on the fact that she was a girl.” Pat snorted and tapped his cigar on the balcony railing. “He would have traded all four of his sons for the chance to make Hannah a boy.”

  When Ramsey only remained watchful, Pat turned to him. The older man’s expression was whimsical. “And then, you came along…the son he always wanted.”

  “So you squealed for the chance to be The Dragon?” he asked in a bored tone of voice.

  Pat laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “I never wanted to be Dragon.”

  “Then why?”

  His uncle shrugged. “Maybe I was tired of this life, tired of always looking over my shoulder, of burying family.”

  “You haven’t had to look over your shoulder in close to a decade, and the only unanticipated burial during that time occurred today.”

  His uncle’s head jerked back to him. “I had nothing to do with Lily’s death, Ramsey.”

  “You’re already talking to the feds, Pat,” Ramsey interrupted in a hard voice. His hand brushed his waist, where he concealed a semi-automatic revolver with a silencer attached. “Who’s to say you’re not in league with one of my enemies?”

  Pat shook his head as his expression hardened. “I’d never betray you for them, and I loved Lily! She was a child, an innocent. Say whatever you want to about me, but never that. I’d never play a part in the death of a child.” The man shook his head again and his eyes narrowed. “You know I wouldn’t, Ramsey.”

  Ramsey stared at him for long moments, staring at his right eye, waiting for the twitch, but it never came. Of its own volition, his mind replayed one of his earliest memories of Pat. Ramsey, his mother, and brother had just arrived in Gwangju, South Korea, at his grandfather’s large and secure estate. They’d buried his father only days ago, and then they’d left the only home he’d known for a completely different world. His mother had taught them Korean from a young age, so Ramsey hadn’t had that much of a problem understanding people, but he’d gone from having a small family to having a large one, from being middle class to being rich, from being well-to-do, his father had been an engineer, his mother a teacher, to being a part of an underground establishment called the Ssang Yong Pa or Double Dragon.

  He’d been there barely a week, when he’d first run into Pat. Due to his mother’s return after ten years abroad, his grandfather’s estate had become a revolving door of family members. Still mourning his father, Ramsey hadn’t felt like being a part of any festivities and was usually off on his own. He’d found a secluded pond at the far edge of the estate, just before the high stone walls, and was usually there.

  “You must be Kang Jae Ramsey Stone,” a tall man with long black hair and an easy smile had told him in slow Korean. “What a mouthful.”

  After he replied in the affirmative, he’d introduced himself as “Uncle Pat” and had taken a seat on the stone bench beside him. He’d asked him questions about his life in Egypt, how he liked South Korea, and finally, before he left, “What’s your favorite snack?”

  At the time, Ramsey had loved sweets. He enjoyed toffees, liquorices, gummies, anything with a high sugar content. He’d told him so.

  “Stop eating them.”

  Confused, he’d asked why.

  With an easy smile, Pat had stood, looked down at him and said, “Because you can’t be poisoned unless a person knows what you love to eat.”

  Ramsey hadn’t understood then, but he’d given up sweets. His mother had told them they were bad for his teeth anyway. A month later, one of the young servants died after Ramsey gave him a few toffees an uncle had passed to him. It was the first attempt on his life, and without Pat’s words, Ramsey doubted he’d be alive today. Instead, that uncle was dead, and he was The Dragon.

  “What do they have on you?” Ramsey finally asked.

  “I’ve never been a perfect man, just a man…” Pat began, trailing off to take another drag. As he released it, he muttered, “Whores.”

  Ramsey lifted a brow. “Whores?”

  Pat nodded. “I dabble in…whores.”

  “That’s what the FBI has on you?” Ramsey didn’t believe him. Pat had had his fair share of women, before and after he’d married, but he’d never struck Ramsey as the type to pay for it. “You fuck whores?”

  “I never said I fuck them. I said I dabble.”

  “I see.” And he did. Pat wasn’t the john, he was the pimp. That made sense since Pat was always looking for ways to make more money, despite having more money than he could possibly spend in this lifetime. “How long?”

  “About five years.”

  “Not only are you talking to feds, you’re disobeying my order to avoid illegitimate businesses.” As the head of the family, Ramsey had given a directive years ago that they were only allowed to pursue new legitimate ventures. He’d cleaned up most of his grandfather’s businesses, and had only retained those that were either necessary or could still be presented as legitimate. And now, Pat was telling him that he’d opened a prostitution ring right under Ramsey’s nose.

  “The girls are all over 18 and clean.”

  “You’re operating a prostitution ring in New York!” Ramsey snapped. “It’s illegal!”

  Pat didn’t respond.

  “Is that all? The whores?”

  He nodded once. “A few months ago, the feds shut it down and trumped up the charges since I have prior convictions. They’re threatening to send me away for 20 years.”

  Ramsey tapped the cigar on the balcony ledge before taking a drag. For a man in his fifties, that was a life-sentence. “So you’re squealing for immunity?”

  “I never said I’d squeal on you,” Pat defended. “I said I’d give them information…”

  “On what?” Ramsey drawled. “Our legitimate ventures?” A thought occurred to him that made his jaw clench. “Have you been filtering the money from your prostitutes through any of my businesses?”

  Like most of his family members, Pat sat on the board for The Osiris and had shares in other ventures Ramsey had undertaken.

  “No…I had another cover.”

  “What?”

  “A pet store. The feds shut that down too.”

  “What have you told them so far?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Pat,” Ramsey began in a low tone. “I’ve had a long and trying day. I buried my niece, I interviewed the man who hit her, and now I’m talking to you about your breach of code. I’m not at my most patient, so I’d advise you not to lie to me.”

  “I told them about the old man.”

  “Oh?” Why were the feds still curious about a dead man?

  “They wanted to know about his businesses.”

  “And you told them?”

  Pat sighed and nodded once.

  “About all of the businesses?”

  “Most of them. I left out the ones you still operate.”

  “What else did they want to know?”

  “They wanted to know about Eun-Hee…Hannah.” Like his uncles, his mother had a traditional Korean name but chose to use the English name she’d chosen for herself.

  “Why?” He saw n
o reason why the feds would care about the daughter and mother of Dragons.

  Pat shrugged. “I think it was an indirect way to ask questions about you.” When Ramsey raised a brow, he continued, “They asked about her upbringing, why she went to Egypt, your father, why she came back to South Korea, why she lives there now.”

  “And you told them what?”

  “I told them she was the favorite, that she went to Egypt because she asked and he could deny her nothing, that she married your father because she wanted to and was stubborn, that she came back to South Korea after he died, that she lives there because she remarried.”

  Except for his grandfather’s favoritism, most of that was general knowledge.

  “What did you tell them about me, Pat?”

  “I told them I didn’t have any information on you outside of you being a businessman.”

  “What did you tell them about the business I recently acquired?”

  Ramsey had gone to Seoul to see about another business venture. He’d been leery of doing it because it entailed working with two other gangs, but it had been a way for everyone to make money, and a way to stop the rivalry happening in the streets of various South Korean cities. If everyone had something to lose, they suddenly became careful of who they pissed off.

  “Nothing.” Pat shook his head. “I told you, I told them nothing about you outside of you being a resourceful businessman with legal businesses.”

  When Ramsey only continued to stare at him, Pat shrugged and replied, “A dead man has no reason to lie.”

  Ramsey saw no point in correcting him. Pat knew the penalty for betrayal and he’d still done it. He could have come to Ramsey, and they could have shaken the feds off, maybe gotten him a lighter sentence if it had come to that, but he hadn’t. He’d squealed.

  “Maybe he has every reason.” Keeping him in sight, Ramsey walked over to the deck table and snuffed out the cigar. “Maybe he’s concerned about his family.”

  “Who wouldn’t be concerned about his family?” Pat retorted. “But that gives me no incentive to lie.” He took another drag of the cigar, and kept his gaze on Ramsey. “I know you, Ramsey. I watched you grow into the man you are. I know you’re fair and wouldn’t hurt women for the crimes of their men, especially when they weren’t involved.”