The Dragon (G.O.N.Y. - Double Dragon) (12 page)

***

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.

“
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.”

“And you’ve always been such a trustworthy source of information,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“You wanted to speak to Brandon.”

She didn’t deny it. If she’d called, she would have wanted to speak to all of them, but since she’d grown close to Brandon in the past months, she’d have settled for just him.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re
close
?” Although he asked the question in an even voice, Jezebel had the feeling that Ramsey was prying into more than just her phone call.

“Because I care about what happens to my team.”

“Do you love him?”

“What does that have to with anything?”

He moved then, coming forward in slow, measured steps, and pausing inches from her. “Because that’s the only reason I could see you doing something so stupid.”

She’d come expecting his anger, but now that it was here, Jezebel felt an answering call of her own.

“And what if I do?” she snapped. “He’s a good man, an honorable man who protects people from
criminals
who break the law. I could do―
have done
―much worse.”

“Have you?”

“Did you forget already?” she mused. “I could have taken up with a mobster who kills innocent people, lies when it suits him, cheats and steals.”

“And we don’t want that, do we?”

“No,
I
certainly don’t.”

“And the baby?”

She frowned. “What does my baby have to do with anything?”

“Since you want to start a good, honorable life with your lover, I’m assuming
our
child will be staying with me.”

Her heart stopped and she clutched her belly. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter, Jezebel.” His voice lowered to a pleasant tone. “You and Brandon can consummate your love, get married using your real names this time, and have other children, but since this one doesn’t fit with your
good, honorable
life, I will happily take him off your hands.”

She stepped forward, halting only when her belly bumped his. Pushing onto her toes, she hissed, “If you try to take this baby from me, I will kill you!”

“So vicious, Jezebel,” he breathed. “And I’m the mobster?”

Jezebel sucked in a breath and grabbed for the towel around his neck. When she had a good grip, she yanked it down, forcing him as close to her eye level as possible. He smelled of citrus and musk, as if he’d spent hours in the gym. It irritated her further that instead of being repulsed, she found the smell appealing. “Don’t you ever threaten me with this child, Ramsey.
Ever
.”

“It wasn’t a threat.”

“No?”

“When I threaten you, Jezebel, you’ll know it.” Sensing that was another threat, Jezebel parted her lips to tell him where to shove it, but started and pulled back when Ramsey’s lips brushed hers in a whisper of a kiss. “That’s not a threat either. It’s a promise.”

***

She released the towel as if burned and hurriedly stepped back. He moved with her, catching her waist to keep her steady and bringing her flush against him again. The press of her belly against his and the warmth emanating from her skin was comforting and familiar. “Easy, Jezebel.”

“Don’t touch me!”

He should listen to her, release her, turn on the light, and send her on her way, but from the moment he’d entered his room to find her asleep in his bed, something had shifted. The fight with his brother had been necessary, but his emotions were still raging. As he’d known he would, Bastian had lost, accepting defeat only when Ramsey took him down and threatened to crush his windpipe.

“This is over,” he’d told his brother as he straddled his back. “Do you understand me? I won’t treat you like a child anymore. Whatever anger, hatred, or jealousy you have toward me, either let it go or I’ll deal with it.”

Seeing Jezebel curled up on his bed had calmed him. Knowing she was waiting to speak to him, he’d gone into the bathroom to wash his face and remove his bloodied shirt. His blood or Bastian’s, he didn’t know. He’d come to her calmer than he’d been in days, but her first sentence had spiked his anger again.

Brandon.

He’d disliked the man from the first time he’d met him, and he was positive that dislike had grown to hate. “Why?”

“What?”

“Was he your rebound? You were hurt and he was there?”

She tensed beneath his touch, then laughed as if he’d told some joke. “Did I say something funny?”

“You’re funny, Ramsey.” Long-fingered, fine-boned hands began working at his, trying unsuccessfully to pry them from her hips. “You told me I don’t matter, tossed me away when you were satisfied, and now you’ve got the nerve to be jealous?”

She was right, but he didn’t care. He had his reasons for doing what he did, and all of them had been his way of protecting her. “What did you tell him?”

She froze, and her hands dropped away from his. “I told him everything.”

“Meaning?”

“Can you turn on the light? It’s dark in here.”

Ramsey ignored her. He liked the darkness, and it suited him well. “What did you tell him, Jezebel?”

“I told him I’m with you.”

He closed his eyes and willed his breathing to remain even. He’d have to contact his lawyers to see if the feds could charge him with removing her from the country. With his uncle’s death and no witness, the government had been forced to drop their case against Ramsey, but they were itching for any leverage to bring him down. “What else?”

“In South Korea.”

“Specifically?”

“Gwangju.”

With that type of information, Brandon would be able to locate her. The FBI had no jurisdiction in South Korea, but this was personal for the other man. She was more than an assignment. Plus, there were covert groups affiliated with the FBI who might attempt an extraction. Ramsey didn’t think they’d get involved, but he’d notify Vince just to cover all of his bases.

“So you told your
boyfriend
where to find you?”

She sighed. “Ramsey, I shouldn’t have―”

“Despite your close encounter with death while under his protection, you think you’d be safer with him?”

She tried to twist away, but he moved with her, keeping his grip steady, forcing her to remain where she was, plastered against him.

“I know you’re angry, Ramsey, but I’m not going to let you manhandle me because I made a mistake!” Jezebel grabbed his hands again.

“Is he that good in bed?” Except for Jezebel’s sharp intake of breath, there was no other reaction. He leaned down, stopping only when he was inches from her shadow-cast face. “He must be better than me because you were never this stupid when you were with me.”

“I said it was a mistake!”

He didn’t care. Brandon knowing where they were wasn’t necessarily a great cause to move location, but the fact that she’d called the agent irritated Ramsey. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask me a question worth answering.” She pushed at his hands again. “I told you what I came here to tell you. Now let me go!”

“The FBI has a leak.”

“Obviously,” she spat. “How much did you pay him to tell you where I was?”

“Very good, Jezebel,” he drawled. “And how did my enemies find you? Maybe Brandon needed the money. The government doesn’t pay well.”

She shook her head. “It’s not him.”

“You’re positive?” When she remained silent, he added, “Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

“Is that how much you pay your informants?” she snipped. When he remained silent and only continued to stare at her, she breathed, “He has too much honor for that.”

“Ah, we’re back to honor.”

“Yes, maybe if you had any, you wouldn’t be so offended when someone brings it up.”

He released her, moving around the dark interior of his room to the lamp on the end table. Honor was overrated. Up until a few months ago, Ramsey considered himself an
honorable
man. He’d walked the straight and narrow, earned his money legally for the most part, and he’d failed to protect the one person who couldn’t protect herself.

As he turned the lamp on, Jezebel squinted despite its dimness of the light. He approached her again, feeling his lips tug upward at her wary look. “I may not be as honorable as Brandon, Jezebel, but you’re safest with me.”

She nodded. “I know that.”

Her answer surprised him. “Good.” Grabbing his towel, he pulled it over his hair once more before wiping away droplets of water that had seeped onto his neck and chest. Jezebel watched him, her gaze lingering on his chest for a few seconds longer than necessary. “Do I measure up to your lover?”

Caught, she flushed and looked away.

“A few months ago, you had no complaints about my body.”

Brown eyes flicked to his in shock before she shook her head as if telling herself it wasn’t worth it. “I’m going back to my room.”

Before she could run, Ramsey continued, “Am I making you uncomfortable, Jezebel?” He chuckled despite the anger coursing through his veins. “You see, I’m still trying to figure what would make an intelligent woman call her lover when days ago she was almost killed under his protection?”

Her nostrils flared as her eyes flashed angrily. “I already told you I had a lapse of judgment.”

“Maybe you miss him.” When she glared at him, he continued. “It’s only been a few months, so unless you’ve changed drastically, I don’t think you love him. No, you’re not the type to fall in love easily, are you? I think you miss what he gives you.” He smiled with an ease he didn’t feel. “Is that it?”

“What?”

His strides brought him back to her in a few short seconds. “You said it yourself, ‘pregnancy makes a girl horny.’”

Rapid blinking greeted his declaration. “You think I called Brandon because I’m
horny
?”