Page 81 of Ruthless Touch

I’m buzzing, half dizzy by the time Gun draws back. He looks equally as dazed and turned on, his dark gaze focused on my kiss-swollen lips even now.

“If that wasn’t clear enough, feline, I’m in this for the long haul,” he says throatily. He strokes my cheek and meets my eyes. “I’m with you on your quest. If you say it was the Cheongryong, then it was the Cheongryong. And if you say it was my father, then we’ll hold him accountable too. Okay?”

My tongue feels heavy, my lips tingling. I nod dumbly and repeat, “Okay.”

He kisses me again, a fleeting peck. “Then let’s take our time. Let’s make sure we get this right. My shoulder’s still healing, and after the last failed attempts, we have to get it right.”

As hard as it is to admit, I know deep down that Gun’s correct. I’ve been rash; I’ve been reckless trying to carry out my revenge against the Cheongryong.

When I failed the first time against Lieutenant Im, I went out that night and targeted Gun. And when Director Hart pulled me off the contract, I went after the syndicate again at Noir Norae.

I haven’t been successful because I’ve been blinded by desperation. I’ve been driven by anger and stubbornness.

My thirst for revenge.

This time’s going to be different.

When you’re in hiding from a mafia syndicate that rules the country’s biggest city, you have to be careful about showing your face in public. For that reason, over the next few days I keep a low profile.

Gun does too—at first through his excuse about being hungover and then claims he’s fallen ill with a stomach bug. He only returns to Cheongryong business sparingly, making mandatory appearances to show face and to ensure his crew is running smoothly.

I spend my time strategizing and keeping not only my brain active but my body. I train for what could be to come, using the wide open space of the loft to practice moves and sharpen my skills.

When Gun comes home and finds me in the middle of an airborne roundhouse kick, he stops in his tracks and grins.

“I knew you were taking it easy on me, Goyangi-ne,” he teases.

For dinner, Gun takes the lead, once again demonstrating his prowess in the kitchen. He makes a range of dishes like spicy ramen, grilled pork belly, bulgogi, and even kimchi rice bowls.

It feels awkward at first letting this man I’ve vowed to hate cook for me. But Gun being Gun makes it feel like the most natural thing imaginable once he gets in the kitchen and shoots me his trademark cocky grin.

My stomach flutters, and he pulls me toward him and tells me how I’m going to be his assistant.

“And you’re going to be a good girl and do what I say,” he growls into my ear, standing from behind. He spanks me on the ass and makes me jump.

The shock fades quick enough that I glare at him. He merely laughs and tells me he welcomes any payback.

“You know that’s our foreplay, Goyangi-ne.”

I should be pissed. As I peel the garlic cloves, I tell myself to be. But then I’m laughing the next moment when Gun turns music on his phone and starts singing to Bruno Mars.

“That… just might be the most off-key rendition of 24K Magic I’ve ever heard.”

“Now you know why I was absent from karaoke night.”

“Which was brutal. Some of those performances were downright torture.”

“Did they make one of the Jeokpa’s cosplay Cher again?”

Another unexpected laugh slips out of me. “How did you know?”

“I’ve attended enough of them. Be grateful you didn’t hang around for the mooning phase.”

“You mean…?”

“That’s exactly what it sounds like. Drunken soldiers on the stage slurring to a pop song with their asses out. The poor lounge girls have to clean up their mess.”

We have dinner at the table in the dining area and find ourselves in conversation that flows naturally. Gun tells me about his early years in the Cheongryong. The things he had to do to make rank and prove himself.