Hundreds Read online

  After all, I’d earned the love of one woman.

  If I could do that…didn’t I deserve a second chance from my family? What I wouldn’t give to have a network of loved ones to introduce Pim to. To show her how good a big family could be—how protective and wild and heart-breaking all at the same time.

  But those dreams were dashed and pointless as I entered my house, noticing the Chinmoku had done what I’d always feared and found me.

  Tables were upended, drawers open, windows smashed. The cupboard housing the shrine to my father and brother wrenched wide and massacred with brutal force. My temper turned black with fury that their memory had been desecrated by the same filth who had killed them.

  This was where I came to pray, to forgot, to beg for forgiveness.

  Snippets of happier times played in the silence of the house. My father’s laugh. My brother’s tiny punches. It physically hurt to remember them.

  But the fucking Chinmoku’s version of a cleaning crew had been through and yet again destroyed my temple.

  I stood in my ransacked lounge and breathed war.

  My mother should never have used her passport to travel here. She should never have left the anonymity of her new home with family members the Chinmoku didn’t know about.

  Now, they knew where she would return to and where I was.

  It had finally begun.

  In a way, I was glad.

  I’d been waiting for this day for far too long.

  They wanted to kill me for leaving their brotherhood and I wanted to kill them for murdering my loved ones. This deadly chase would end in either their deaths or mine—it was just a matter of who found who first.

  Game on, motherfuckers.

  Stalking around broken pieces of furniture and eyeing up the kitchen knives imbedded into my walls, I sought clues as to how many had trespassed and if they’d left a calling card—just like they had when they’d burned my childhood house to the ground.

  Moving into the master bedroom—where my mother had made herself at home—I found it.

  Not written in blood this time but just as invasive in black dripping spray-paint. The acrid stench of chemicals replaced any comfort the house naturally permeated.

  My eyes skated over their message: ‘Once a Chinmoku always a Chinmoku. You ran like a coward. Now you will die like a traitor.’

  The promise was reminiscent of the last one. My rage turned into a tar ready to creep and suffocate anyone who so much as touched me and mine.

  Pim…

  She was out there...on her own.

  The heartbreak at losing my father and brother was nothing compared to the heart-destruction at the thought of Pim being executed by the bastards of my past.

  I had to find her.

  I had to protect her.

  I had to do a better fucking job than I did when I was thirteen.

  The ocean called to me—its waves urging me to sail away and never return to shore. Out on the watery horizon, no one could sneak up on us. Alrik might’ve asked me to install weaponry on his ill-fated yacht, but his suggestions were nothing compared to what I’d adorned the Phantom with.

  She was a floating fortress. An ark.

  And it was time to return to her.

  But your promise…to make love to Pim.

  My hands curled even as my pulse remained steady in the face of the upcoming battle. Pim needed one more night of affection. Shit, I needed one more night of affection.

  I wanted her too much to be chased into hiding by these cocksuckers.

  One more night.

  In that case, I needed something to ensure I behaved.

  Ignoring the oozing spray-paint dripping onto the bed and pillows below, I picked up the kicked-over bedside table and pulled free the bamboo box from its interior.

  Pim had wrung a promise from me that I didn’t know if I could deliver. Tonight would either be in my realm of capabilities, or it would send me into a dark, dark place I would struggle to climb out of.

  Either way, I wouldn’t return to that hotel without being prepared.

  Weed wouldn’t help me tonight.

  My other crutches would fail.

  I had to come up with another plan. One that might, just might, circumnavigate my useless brain. A plan that could technically help Pim as it did me. It would force her to take accountability for what she was asking me to do.

  Stroking the bamboo lid, I didn’t need to open it to remember what was inside.

  Gifts from the men who’d torn apart my house.

  Tools of my trade as a fighter for their cause.

  Making sure I had the key to the box in my pocket, I called the service I used to maintain this mausoleum and requested an urgent tidy up.

  I didn’t know why the Chinmoku hadn’t hung around to finish the job when I entered. I didn’t know where they’d gone. But I’d been ready for them for years. It was me they should fear, not the other way around.

  Storming outside, I slid into the car, and ordered Selix to drive me to the warehouse.

  There, I’d found he’d had my cello delivered, and all thoughts of working were dismissed.

  And now that I’d had my musical fix, I was ready to find Pim.

  Ready to hunt her, watch her, and somehow find the strength to love her.

  * * * * *

  I’d followed her for the past ten minutes.

  She hadn’t seen me thanks to my habits as a thief and my training as a killing ghost.

  Normally, my heart rate didn’t spike when stalking my prey. I remained focused and sharp, locked on one mission and one mission only.

  But Pim?

  Fuck me, this girl made my entire body disobey me. My palms sweated as she weaved between travellers and locals. My heart raced as she bumped into strange men and battled with her training to drop her eyes ready for a fist, to tentatively smiling and believing she was safe from harm.

  The two guards I’d demanded follow her did a good job; shadowing her but not suffocating her, they diligently watched foot traffic and made appropriate calls on what and who were a threat.

  I scanned the crowds for any sign of the Chinmoku, but all seemed normal. If they were here, I’d sense them before seeing them. For now, the hairs on the back of my neck remained unchanged. Knowing them, they’d retreat to plan an attack now they knew where I lived.

  Unfortunately for them, they thought I resided in the house upon the hill and not in a garrison on the open waters.

  Apart from my mess catching up with me, Monte Carlo was too drunk on its own superiority to be a danger to most. The worst crime in this city was a high-powered poker game with a million dollar buy-in followed by the tears of those who lost. Petty criminals weren’t here. They were outcast by the masterminds who operated in full view under the guise of well-known businesses.

  In fact, the only person who was a threat to this city was Pim.

  She was a thief in their midst, and no one paid any attention.

  My lips pulled into a crooked smile, pride filling me as Pim slowly switched from meandering daydreamer to focusing on the task I’d given her. I’d expected her to complete the thievery sooner, but either she hadn’t found a perfect mark, or she’d taken this long to work up the courage—either way, I was lucky enough to have first row tickets to her infraction.

  Eyeing up handbags of women brushing past in barely covering material and dripping with jewels, she grew distracted by wallets in men’s back pockets as they followed in the wake of their wives and mistresses.

  Giving up on looting a moving individual, she searched stalls selling fresh fruit and others toting cheap beaded jewellery.

  Each one, she discounted as a target.

  I’d given her an impossible task. I’d commanded she do something she wasn’t comfortable with and accept the guilt and shame that would undoubtedly accompany it.

  I pushed forward a little, intending to save her from having to do such a thing, but she suddenly veered direction, stepping off the cu
rb and heading toward the beach where late afternoon sunbathers left their belongings to dip into the turquoise bay.

  Sand kicked up behind her flip-flops until she kicked them off and looped her fingers through the rubber thongs. Her security detail followed, looking ridiculously out of place in their matching black suits. I kept back, blending with the foot traffic rather than exposing myself on the sand.

  Pim trailed around multi-coloured towels, glancing at paperbacks and sunscreen bottles, eyeing the occasional sunhat protecting wallets and keys below. Her pace slowed as she approached a scrunched-up beach bag and two bleached deck chairs.

  The owners of such belongings were no doubt swimming. Too absorbed in their happy holiday to notice the slim thief spying something beneath their chair.

  I held my breath as Pim looked left and right then ducked to her haunches and stole a small book from the sand. Instantly, the pilfered item vanished into the folds of her dress. I expected her to stand quickly and carry on, but she replaced the book with a small piece of paper, half burying it so it didn’t blow away.

  The moment the note was secure, she moved swiftly away.

  Her posture was guilty but resolute. Her shoulders braced but calm.

  If I didn’t have feelings for her before, I sure as fuck did now.

  She might have just stolen a book, but to me…to me, she’d just stolen my heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ______________________________

  Pim

  THE BOOK WEIGHED so much more than the four-hundred and fifteen pages stated in the index.

  It weighed on my conscience.

  It weighed on my heart.

  Countless times, my feet slowed as the desire to return it to its rightful owner consumed me. Sand stuck to my soles as I looked over my shoulder to see if there was still time.

  Oh, no.

  An Asian couple climbed from the sea, laughing and hugging, beelining for the deck chairs and my guiltily written note.

  I shook a little as they sat down, dripping with seawater, happy and in love. The husband bent to grab his bottle of water, his eyebrows rising as he noticed the crinkle of my half-buried apology.

  I couldn’t stand and watch him read.

  I couldn’t see him get angry at having something of his taken so callously.

  Turning on my heel, I charged ahead, hugging his possession that had now become mine. In my mind, I saw the words I’d scribbled onto a piece of paper from the café where I’d stopped earlier today. Bill had bought me a coffee, saving me from embarrassment of forgetting the age-old custom of bringing money on this excursion.

  So many things I used to know.

  So many things I’d have to remember.

  Things like walking with foot traffic rather than against it. No dillydallying in front of shop windows unless I wanted to be grumbled at. No walking in the middle of the road for a moment’s clemency from the press of strangers’ bodies unless I wanted to be run over.

  And no stealing.

  Seemed I’d ignored that rule entirely, thanks to Elder.

  The weight of the book condemned me in the folds of my dress. My note wouldn’t stop my shame. It didn’t make what I’d done right. But it was better than nothing…

  I think.

  I visualised my penmanship as if I’d just written it.

  Dear Person I Just Stole From,

  I’m so sorry for the violation into your life. For the anger you feel and the frustration you can’t shake at having something you bought and paid for taken. I hope you know the monetary value of such a thing is nothing compared to the debt I now owe you.

  I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’ll look after what I took.

  Yours, Minnie Mouse.

  I shook my head, cringing at the signature. My dad would send hail down from heaven for stealing and using his nickname to commit it.

  But I couldn’t use Pimlico as that wasn’t my true name. And I couldn’t use Tasmin as I didn’t deserve to claim that yet.

  No doubt the couple would think I was being shady and using some cutesy calling card.

  They couldn’t be more wrong.

  I’d given up a huge piece of myself by signing it that way.

  I’d traded my childhood for something of theirs. Something Elder had requested I steal for him.

  Turning the book over in my hands, I ran my fingers over the cover.

  Why had I stolen a Japanese to English dictionary? Why rob that couple of the ability to translate and converse?

  I knew why.

  It’s because—

  “I’ll take that.” A large, beautifully formed hand shot over my shoulder and captured the book, tugging it free from my grip.

  “No—” I spun around, colliding with Elder in his black t-shirted, blue denim dressed glory. The glow of orange and shadow from the sun setting behind him made him seem not quite real.

  My heart clanged like a church bell as his dark almond eyes met mine. Somehow, every time he looked at me, he invoked the deepest belly-tugging desire.

  He stiffened as if he felt the undercurrent of alchemy whenever we were together, then dropped his gaze to the gift I’d stolen for him.

  He froze, noticing the Japanese characters switching to English on the cover with the Webster logo in the corner. His lips worked, his jaw clenched, he shook his head. “Why?”

  He didn’t need to add more.

  Why this?

  Why a dictionary?

  Why the language of his mixed heritage?

  I flushed with yet more shame for thinking I had a right to dabble and use what little I knew about him for my own purpose. Stealing had been terrible. Having him refuse my gift would be horrifying.

  “Because you gave me back the gift of language. You reminded me how to speak. You bridged the gap somehow, and now, I’m no longer afraid of words.”

  Elder groaned, his brow falling over his eyes now tortured and full of pain. “Pim…stop.”

  “No, you asked. I stole it for you. I know it doesn’t have a large cash value. In fact, it’s dog-eared and well-used. But it carries so much I need to say to you. To prove just how grateful I am. We might all speak different verses and use foreign alphabets, but you understand me. I don’t want to be silent anymore. I want to talk. To you. I want to understand—”

  “Enough.” He shuddered, clutching the dictionary tight. His throat worked as if fighting to respond then his features slipped into unreadable as he asked, “Do you know Japanese?”

  His subject change slowed me, but I willingly followed his direction. If he wasn’t ready to discuss what happened between us last night and the fight we’d had this morning, then fine. I could be patient because unlike Elder, who had a finish line in mind for us, I had no intention of letting it end. “No. I studied one year at school, but I’ve forgotten most of it.” I took a step forward, looking harder into his eyes. “Do you?”

  He swiped a hand over his face. “You already know the answer to that question.”

  We shared a stare, and I saw the reply I already knew. He was born to mixed-race parents. He lived in the valley of East and West and been raised with blended laws and requirements.

  He was honourable as well as ruthless.

  He was kind as well as cruel.

  He was everything I wanted to be and everything I feared.

  Then again, if he could speak Japanese, he’d learned it from his mother’s side, yet she hadn’t yelled at him in Japanese, only English. Why was that? Perhaps having a European father meant his mother talked in English out of respect for his memory? Maybe she just preferred it?

  Who knew?

  Only Elder had the answers, and once again, I was willing to be patient to earn them.

  “Teach me?” I asked softly.

  “Japanese?”

  “Everything.” My voice owned that word—begged him to make it true. Inside those four syllables and ten letters lived acceptance; I was ready for him to teach me to play the cello, lea
rn his history, and let him educate me on everything I missed out on.

  Starting tonight with sex and passion and lust and love and all things I desperately needed.

  The sun extinguished behind him, leaving us in twilight.

  Endless moments ticked past before he pressed the book to his heart and nodded. “I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.” He paused, signalling an end to his sentence. But then his face softened, the mood darkened, and his lips moved with sensual promise. “I’ll show you anything you want to see, Pimlico.” His hand came up, cupping my face for a blistering second. “For you, I’ll do anything.”

  The moment was far too big for a small sunset on a crowded beach; far too moving to be wasted in public.

  I ached at the sacrifice in his tone; the knowledge he would hurt himself to give me what I wanted.

  His temper from this morning was gone. He’d finally reached the same conclusion I had—that we had no choice. We had to hold on and give in and hope we survived whatever it was our bodies and hearts and souls had decided we must endure.

  Standing with sand between my toes and sweat upon my skin, I’d never been more alive, more sure, more ready to step forward into something so incredibly special.

  I’d had sex with this man and remained unbroken.

  I’d lived with this man and remained unhurt.

  I’d fought with this man and remained unbruised.

  And now, I hugged this man and found a new home.

  My arms went around him, my face nestled into his strong chest, my body kissed his from shoulder to hip.

  I hugged this man and in some wonderful twist of fate…he hugged me back.

  * * * * *

  “It’s getting dark.”

  I glanced at Elder who’d moved stealthily beside me for the past half an hour. His eyes were never still, hunting the public, expecting evil when I only saw romance. I didn’t know why he was so alert or why he stayed so close to me. I wanted to ask but I also didn’t want to ruin this wonderful stroll like a normal couple.

  We’d walked the beach as it slowly became deserted.