Page 94 of Ruthless Touch

When we break apart, she’s looking at me like I’ve performed some kind of magic trick.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she murmurs. “But youdomelt the ice I have. You might be the only one who ever has.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It is. Except when you get in pissing contests with other men.”

“Can I help it if I’m territorial?”

“Sounds like a dog marking his territory.”

“I’d say that’s fitting. You’re the feline, and I’m the canine.”

We’re teasing each other now, huddled close in the middle of the retail chaos. It starts to feel like we’re two normal people flirting as we spend the afternoon at a shopping district, not a pair of fugitives being hunted by a mafia syndicate.

“Black Suit!” yells someone in the distance. “Black Suit!”

Reality comes crashing back in at his calls.

We both turn to see a Jeokpa across the plaza, one hand clutching a baseball bat and the other pointing directly at us.

We’re completely fucked. He’s sprinting toward us, shoving people out the way and making quick ground.

“Shit, c’mon.” I grab Elise’s hand as we do our best to lose him and take off down a narrow passageway between shops.

If I remember correctly, this passage leads straight onto the main street.

But when we reach the end, there’s chain-link fence blocking our path. A bright orange sign announces ongoing construction that might as well be our death warrant.

We’re trapped like rats in a maze, the Jeokpa’s heavy footsteps pounding after us. It’s only a matter of time before back up shows.

That’s if he hasn’t called them already and notified them just who’s with Elise Quinn.

“Climb it,” I tell Elise, nudging her toward the fence. “I’ll handle him.”

“Gun—”

“GO!” I bark over her.

I whip around in time to dodge the Jeokpa’s first swing of his bat. His eyes widen when he sees my face.

“Yongsa Rhee! You’re with the Black Suits? The Cheongryong-je and his lieutenants will hear about this!”

A bloodthirsty grin spreads on my lips. “Who’s going to tell them, jjilbaengi? You?”

The soldier glares at me, insulted by me calling him a pathetic wimp. His nostrils flare before he goes in for the attack.

He swings the bat at my head. I dodge at the last second. It’s such a close call the wind from his weapon ruffles my hair.

I come back up and deliver a punch to his temple. He stumbles backward, nearly knocked the rest of the way off balance. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he comes at me again in a series of wild swings.

I’m forced to stay one step ahead. I jump, duck, and swerve like I’m performing some new dance.

But he finally gets a hit in when I wrongly anticipate his next swing.

The bat connects with the side of my head in an explosion of agony. I stagger sideways into the wall, my ears ringing like whistles.

The pain is paralyzing. It’s like the wires in my brain have been set on fire and I can no longer do anything but process how badly my skull hurts.