My eyes narrow suspiciously but I stand up and follow him to the door. The cell next to mine has a couple guys in it and they watch me angrily, maybe jealously, as I get to leave. I follow the cop down the hall, past processing, and toward the front lobby. We get buzzed through a security door and he turns to wave me through. I slip past him and he shoves me hard, sending me stumbling out into the lobby, arms pinwheeling, and I spin on my heel with a fist ready because fuck him–
“Yeah? You want another night?” he jeers. I unclench my fist and shake my hand out, trying to get rid of the urge to punch him, and give him a sneer of my own.
“Tommy.” I whirl, heart pounding, to see Yosef, Young-gi’s giant bodyguard, waiting there in all black like a corporate ninja. I blink at him, not expecting him at all. Not expecting anyone, really. I’d figured the officer was tossing me to make room for a big group or something, I don’t know, but not because someone actually came to get me out.
No one’s ever come to get me out of anything before.
“Um, what are you doing here?” Such a stupid question. He must think so too because he just sighs at me.
“What?” I ask him, scowling. “I didn’t ask you to be here, I didn’t ask anyone to come get me.”
“Yes, he’s aware,” Yosef drawls, his accent heavy but not too difficult to understand as he leads me toward the exit. “He expected a phone call. Didn’t get one. Did you think you’d just stay in jail alone? Not contact anyone? Let Kira handle it?”
“I figured you guys would ditch me,” I say honestly. “Why bother with me? It doesn’t seem worth it.”
“He won’t like that.” Yosef’s tone is a warning but I think he might be smiling. He holds the door open for me and I step outside, surprised that it’s still dark out.
“What time is it?”
“About three in the morning,” Yosef says, showing me to a–you guessed it–black car. “You’ve had everyone worried.”
“I never asked anybody to worry about me,” I say defensively, when what I really want to do is process how it feels to think that someone out there might care about me enough to worry.
“You’re a little prickly, huh?” Yosef asks, and I hop into the passenger seat instead of the back.
“You’re chatty today,” I snipe back once he’s in the driver’s seat.
“You’re not very grateful,” he chortles. That stings my pride, because it’s true, and I sit in silence for the first half of the drive.
“Thanks,” I finally mutter begrudgingly. “But I don’t owe you anything.”
He sighs again, loud like he’s an old man, even though he can’t be older than Young-gi. “You know I’m not the person to thank. He sent me.”
I gulp. Even though Young-gi isn’t in the car, just thinking about him is enough to send tingles down my spine like he’ssitting right beside me, and I fidget in my chair, twisting the ring on my finger. “Uh, so, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked am I?”
“Eh?”
“Like how mad is he?”
“Ah, yeah, you’re fucked.”
Shit.And now I’m the one sighing like an old man. “Yeah, I always seem to do that to myself. Can’t keep my shit together.”
Yosef hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t offer any sage life advice, so he’s less helpful than I’d like. He doesn’t take me to Kira’s apartment, though, and as soon as I realize that, I jolt in my seat and look at him.
“Where are we going?”
“Mr. Sokolov’s home.”
“He wants me to go to his house?” I ask, my voice tight.
“It’s three in the morning, Tommy, and he just got back from his travels less than five hours ago. He’s not going to meet you anywhere else.”
“Okay, god, no need to get up on my ass about it,” I gripe, turning back to look out the window, my heart pounding because I knew he was mad at me but I had no idea Young-gi was going to make me go face his wraththis very moment.
Yosef chuckles again, a smokey sound, and the car falls silent. I stew in my nerves until I’m just a soup of worry and excitement.
Young-gi’s angry with me. I’ve been bad.And holy fuck, I can’t decide how I feel about that. I kind of want to vomit. My palms are sweating, I think my heart might explode from how fast it’s going. But the way my blood is rushing is kind of thrilling, and my breathing is fast and eager. I’m ready for a fight, maybe even hoping for one.
