Page 114 of Ruthless Touch
“It’s Elise,” I interrupt sharply. “Elise Jamie Quinn. I quit when you removed me from the mission, remember? And I damn sure know you remember what my real name is. I have my father’s name, Director.Jamie Quinn.”
“I knew your father well so no lectures necessary on who you are. Your father wanted the best for you and had high hopes and expectations. I’m sure he would be glad to hear that you’ve followed in his?—”
“Stop patronizing me about my father,” I snap, pacing back and forth. The fury builds in my chest like steam in a pressure cooker. “You know who killed him, don’t you? Because you helped keep it a secret.”
Director Hart goes silent half a second, then releases the hollowest laugh I’ve ever heard. “Agent Silk, you have no idea what?—”
“It’s fucking Elise Jamie Quinn and you’ve lied to me this entire time!” I explode. “You lied to KD this entire time. You never cared about me avenging my father by eliminating Rhee Tae-hwan. In fact, you probably thought of it as a convenient joke. This was only ever about the money, wasn’t it? The weapons dealings from twenty years ago that you were profiting off of? Youandmy uncle.”
For the first time since I’ve known her, Director Hart stammers.
“I was… I was simply following a client’s request. It’s my duty as director to?—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I snarl into the phone. “You’re lucky there’s an ocean between us right now, or I would slit your throat and watch you bleed out, director.”
I hang up on her before she can get another word in. I rush through the loft toward the bedroom, an urgency in driving my pulse to beat faster.
Gun follows close behind, confusion and concern written across his features.
“What the hell is it?” he asks as I drop to my knees beside his dresser.
I pull open the bottom drawer where the stack of old photos sits like buried secrets waiting to be unearthed. My fingers shake as I rifle through them until I find the one I’m looking for—the gala photo from twenty years ago that shows my father and Tae-hwan standing together, smiling jovially like the best friends they once were.
But now I see the photo differently than I had the first time I’d found it in Gun’s drawer. Uncle Jerald sits alone in the background clutching a soju bottle, his expression sullen and moody.
His gaze, like everyone else’s, is on Dad and Tae-hwan, but it’s not with the same kind of festive warmth as the others.
“My father and your father never betrayed each other,” I whisper, barely audible. “They were both betrayed. And the man who betrayed them was my uncle.”
Gun leans in close to study the photograph, his dark eyes scanning every detail as understanding dawns across his features. “That would make the most sense. It would explain why my father said what he did and why he spared you at the hotel. Why he even sent the tape in the first place.”
I nod, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with sickening clarity. “It would also explain why my uncle spent my whole life feeding me a story about how my dad had trusted so blindly but been betrayed. Hehadbeen betrayed… by him.”
“You didn’t realize the kind of manipulation he was doing. He was your guardian and groomed you to believe what he told you to.”
Even though I know what Gun says is true, it still leaves me questioning how I couldn’t see it sooner. How it’s taken me so long to realize Uncle Jerald was never looking out for me; he was never out for my best interests.
This was all about him and what he could do to benefit most.
“He was in partnership with my dad. They ran the arms scheme together, selling to syndicates like the Cheongryong. But whereas my dad and yours became friends, Uncle Jerald must’ve been the third wheel. The odd man out in the situation. My dad was the real brains behind the operation—Unc has admitted that himself while I was growing up.”
Gun turns and starts for the door. “You know what we have to do now, don’t you?”
I clutch the photograph and follow him out of the room. “He’s not getting away with this. He must’ve saw. He was over the loft that afternoon. Maybe he came by to intercept it but I grabbed the package first. So he had to go to the backup. Poison Tae-hwan to keep him quiet. Which means he probably knows Tae-hwan’s dead by now and that we’re onto him.”
Once outside, Gun leads us to his sports bike instead of the car, the sleek machine gleaming in Seoul’s late afternoon sun. The sky is starting to tinge gold around the edges, bathing the city in warm light.
Yet everything feels cold to the touch. The evidence of decades-old betrayal in the photograph I’m holding onto and the icy chill that’s frozen my insides.
Everyone always says anger and fury are fiery emotions. They’re blazing heat and scalding flames.
But as I mount Gun’s bike and we blast off into Seoul’s urban streets, it’s cold that most intensely describes how I feel.
It’s in the arctic air that’s infected my lungs and made it hard to breathe. The quiet pulse of the ice in my veins that makes me question if I’m still human. And the polar chill that’s glazed over me and left me not fuming mad but calmly furious.
Scarily peaceful as we race off and I fantasize about finally getting the revenge that’s twenty years in the making.
“Hold on tight,” Gun reminds, glancing briefly over his shoulder.