Page 7 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
Waving Aran off, I slide my arms forward on the counter and prop my head on one of them. “I want to find out who that guy at the bar was,” I say, replaying the encounter. I was a little occupied to pay full attention, but that punch he pulled? He’s got to know a thing or two about fighting.
“My sources couldn’t give me a description other than him being a foreigner,” Aran states as if that is the most natural response to give.Because having your sources know who the man that saved my life is before I’ve even asked is definitely the norm.
“Can’t you identify him via the surveillance?” I pout. I’m sure Aran has tried that already and if he couldn’t identify the guy, then that means there wasn’t a good shot of him on camera.
The narrowed look I get is answer enough. I consider my options. Going back now is probably a bad idea, but there is no guarantee he’ll go to the same club again. I should probably let this go, but he piqued my interest and I want to at least know who he is.
“Can you ask your artist friend to come by? I’ll tell him what I remember, and he can do a sketch.”
A subtle curve of Aran’s lips softens his expression. “He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
Honestly, sometimes it’s scary how well he knows me.
I shoot up from the chair and clap my hands, nudging his shoulder with an elbow. “As expected of my best friend. It’s like you can read my mind before I’ve even realized what I want.”
He shakes his head, some loose locks tumbling to the front. “Yet, I believed you when you said you weren’t going there until next week, and let you slip out without a detail.”
“Because I don’t need one,” I protest.
He sighs. “Daichi is right to worry, you know. You need to start acting like the next leader or you’ll get yourself killed.”
“Then find me a bodyguard who’s at least good. Most of these men can’t take me on in a fight, let alone defend me. I don’t need them getting in my way for no reason.”
Aran presses his mouth in a line. He knows there is some merit to my words, but it’s not like finding a capable bodyguard is an easy job. It’s why he still accompanies me most of the time, despite no longer being my personal bodyguard since he took on the Chief of Security title. We’ve been searching for someone to replace him since then.
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, work faster then,” I spit back with irritation. I probably sound like a petulant child, but between being scolded in front of our men and my father not believingme about the mole, I’m a little annoyed. “I’m going to bed. Wake me up when your friend gets here.”
I wait for his exasperated good night and enter the main building, taking the elevator to the thirty-fifth floor where my penthouse is.
Chapter 4
I’m still buzzing evenas we head back to IS-Halls.Who was that guy and what was he doing taking on six men on his own?If I hadn’t needed some air and unlocked that door, who knows what would’ve happened to him.
I stare out of the window as the doors hiss closed and the subway rocks into motion.
I jumped in without thinking, my body dying for some action after a few weeks of no time for even the gym. Should I have done that? But those dudes had guns and he didn’t… I wonder what happened to him after he got out of the club.
I rub my eyes, groaning quietly. Why do I care anyway? I did my nice guy part. What happened to him once I prevented him from getting murdered in an alleyway is none of my business. I squint at my reflection in the opposite window and worry my lips. On that note, should I have even helped him? I mean, with that luxurious dark gray suit he was wearing, he didn’t look like a criminal… but then again, that’s never really an indicator, is it?
I mull over my actions, replaying the fight. The men he was fighting looked like mafia goons. Did I unintentionally get in the way of theyakuzacollecting from him? Was he in debt? And more importantly, did they see my face? Were there cameras?
Man, I hope not. This is the last thing I need on my head when I barely escaped the Hell back home.
“Yo, Leo, you good?” Naomi says, poking me in the side. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be sick.”
Ah, yes. I kind of freaked out after playing savior to that stranger, so I told Naomi I wasn’t feeling well. She offered to take me home when it took three explanations before I sort of kind of understood how to get to the subway.
“Yeah, just… I think I drank too much. Sorry.” I feel bad that she has to babysit me, but I’m also grateful. I really don’t think I’d have managed to get back to the accommodation on my own.
She grins. “No worries. But you owe me one.”
“I thought you said you had to call your dad anyway?” I lift an eyebrow at the flicker of mischief in her eyes.
“Well yes, but that could’ve waited until after I had some fun,” she counters, making a circle with two digits and shoving the index finger of her other hand in and out of it.
I snort. Naomi is kind of funny. She’s got a bit of an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude going on and I think some people find that intimidating if the side-eyes I caught when we were heading out are anything to go by. But I’m a bit of a weirdo too, if I say so myself, so we are getting along just fine so far.
