White lights. White ceiling. Red walls. Ngai Mun sat in a chair and tried not to whimper. The kind grandmother at her back was being nice and careful as much as possible, but damn, did every fucking splinter need to be taken out with a hot poker?
So she should have seen this coming. Hiding behind a wooden desk during an explosion. However, she did her job. The charge was unharmed. In fact, the stubborn ass had gotten up, taken one look at her, and then stood guard over her useless ass.
It was embarrassing to say the least.
Her breath hissed out again, half in vexation, half in pain as the woman took another splinter out from below her shoulder-blade.
That’s wasn’t even all of her issues at the moment.
“So, can I interest you in a cup of tea?”
The jackass was sitting across from her and making small talk.
Of course, at least she didn’t have it as bad as Dollie. Amaya was the only one out of the body guards that had come out unscathed, and she tried to follow them into the operation room, but was ordered to go back and wait. Wait while a bunch of Triad staff pulled the shrapnel out of her Lucy’s stomach.
“Mendokuse,” she growled, stalking into the other room and plopping down in a seat. She scowled, and then started up a diatribe. “Orokana Toriado no orokamono. Demo, asashin no hitotsu no chīsana pea o iji suru koto wa dekimasen. Soshite, karera wa erītodearu koto ni natte iru? Warawaseru na. Watashi wa sorera o kuso o utsu zo.”
Down the hall, a certain red-eyed Chinese woman had hit her limit.
Chang blinked at the little hell cat that had surged up from the chair, knocking back elderly doctor and splinters alike.
“You’re being nothing but an absolute dick! No, I am not interested in spending my time with you. I don’t want tea. I don’t want dinner, breakfast or an early lunch. I have a boyfriend and a partner and I am happy. Hear me? HAPPY! I am not interested. No, I will not tell you my name, my number, my address, nor my measurements. I don’t CARE who you are. I don’t want to know about your family, your accomplishments, your penis size, your target practice scores, or your coin collection! I am NOT INTERESTED IN YOU.”
The son of a Triad boss found himself back pressed up against the door, eyes wide, with a dainty red-painted nail jabbing into his chest. He wasn’t sure if Ruby had realized she’d slipped into her native Mandarin mid rant.
The tiny woman scowled, intimidating even with her suit jacket and blouse gone, one arm pressed tightly to her front as thin bra straps dangled on her upper arms.
“Chang…” and her voice was pure shining steel. “Get your fucking eyes off my chest.”
Not feeling guilty in the least, the young man brought his eyes up as ordered.
Ruby snarled. Her arm snapped down, twisted the knob on the door and shoved him out of the room. “And STAY OUT!”
Completely stunned, Chang had the door slammed and locked in his face.
Any other time, Amaya would point and laugh. But since her lover was in surgery, she didn’t really feel the need. So she just snorted. “Brought that one on yourself, there.”
Turning his head, the man looked at the other woman. And smiled. “That was her angry. Can you imagine what she’d be like in passion?” His eyes glazed over as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Absolutely glorious.”
He jumped as something hard and metal hit the door inches from his temple and vibrated.
“And imagine where she’d throw that,” Amaya replied, getting up and retrieving her senbon. “And I don’t mean the head on your shoulders. Better back off, sweety. I’ve seen women in our profession tear men apart for looking at them wrong.” She briefly remembered an incident where Lucy had dropped a guy in a vat of acid. She still swore it had been an accident. Amaya had her doubts.
Eyeing the female mercenary, Chang bent his head in respect, not a hint of mockery in his action. Raising his regard back to her eyes, he smiled. “She said to get out, and to stay out. But she didn’t say I couldn’t hire her again.” Pivoting on his heel, the male waved a hand as he walked down the hallways towards the lounge. He had some strings to pull for the future.
Amaya hummed. She’d have to ask Lucy, but she’d bet money the guy wouldn’t live past twenty-five. Shaking her head, she returned to where she’d been, only to stiffen as a man somewhat smaller than her came out and strode over.
“You are Miss Dollie’s partner?” he asked tersely.
She nodded. “How is she?” she asked, suppressing emotional reactions.
“She’ll live. But she might not wake up for a few hours yet. She lost a lot of blood.” The man pursed his lips. “We would like to keep her for observation… but in six hours, minimum, you may bring her home if that’s what you want.”
She nodded. “I will be,” she said firmly. “Can I see her?”
He ducked his head. “In a few minutes. She’s being moved to a resting room.”
Sliding a slick hand down a tiny back, Simon frowned even as he gasped at the ceiling.
“Are you sure… you’re okay?” he prodded, rubbing his fingertips together and feeling the texture that wasn’t just sweat.
Tiny teeth bit down on the meat of his shoulder and he moaned softly. A hot tongue laved over the indentations and his partner growled. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
If she said so… He brought his hands back up to her shoulders, tracing his thumbs over the tattoos. He pushed up gently, and when her face came into view, he pulled her back in, lips and teeth catching, clinging, feeling.
“Again,” she demanded and he smiled and rolled them over. Taking turns had its merits.