Page 2 of Ruthless Touch

“You consider me elite, Appa? That is surprising coming from you.”

“Make no mistake. It is purely based on your relation to me not your worthiness. Tomorrow we will meet to discuss the next course of action. It’s time to go on the offensive.”

He hangs up shortly after, making it clear he’s dissatisfied with me. But what else is new?

It would’ve been stranger if he’d hung up with an, “I’m proud of you, adeul.”

Hangul for son.

I release a breath as another pulse of pain hits me.

Can’t hurt to pop an extra pill for good measure. After all, my father’s phone calls would give anybody a headache.

I’ve barely swallowed it down when Joon-gifinallyarrives.

In typical Joon-gi fashion, he tries his hardest to be impressive and make an entrance. He pulls up in a BMW 8I with a bright green underglow and the bass pumping.

Everybody on the block stares. Some in awe. Others watching on as they giggle.

Joon neither notices nor cares.

The goofball grins wide as the doors raise and he steps out looking like he got dressed in the dark—a neon windbreaker, oversized shades, and cargo pants tucked into high-top sneakers, like some Twitch streamer who got blackout drunk in a Seoul boutique.

He runs a hand through the messy dark brown shag he calls a hairstyle, otherwise known as the wolf cut.

It could be worse. There was the time he dyed his hair platinum blond.

“Told you I clean up nice,” he says in greeting. He gestures to himself. “This look? Straight off the mannequin at the Prada in Gangnam.”

“I would’ve guessed the discount rack. And what is that smell? Is that you?”

“It’s the latest. It’s called Street Heat. Limited release.”

I cough, fanning the air between us. “Street Sewage is more like it. You think you’re gonna catch some chicks smelling like that?”

“The American ladies will love it—they flock to exotic scents like this. The shop attendant said?—”

“As she made a commissioned sale,” I interrupt, raising a brow at him. I clap a hand to his shoulder. “Face it. You’ve been swindled.Again.”

Joon scoffs, shrugging off my hand. “We’ll see by the end of the night. I’ll have two cuties. One on each arm. I’m surprised you weren’t already inside getting a head start.”

“My father called with some bad news.”

“Oh yeah? This about the dead Jeokpa?”

“How the fuck did you know before me?” I ask as we fall into step with each other.

We’ve started back toward the nightclub. The line has only grown longer in the last five minutes. The music pounds louder and so does the throbbing inside my head.

Any second now the pain killers should be kicking in.

Hopefully.

“You forget I’m intel?” Joon asks. “I know everything before you, Gun.”

“Intel looking like that. You sure know how to blend in.”

He chuckles. “Did your appa tell you to get your ass out of the clubs?”