Dara's POV

"So you've been trained in espionage-type stuff?"

"Define stuff." he says.

"Obviously, you've got your Boy Scout badge for lying and manipulating."

"Obviously" he agrees. "Though we tend to call it establishing and maintaining cover. Executing surveillance. It sounds nicer that way. More polite."

"Hmm. What else have you earned badges in?" I ask, turning in the seat again. All the better to see him. Somehow he seems more alive to me now.

Just more, in general. Maybe I'm finally dealing with the real Jiyong as opposed to a weak facsimile of the man.

"Ah, infiltration, identity theft...all of your usual types of trickery and deceit. The skillset is generally labeled combat and counterintelligence skills."

"And do you have gadgets? Do you carry, like, a bug out bag?"

He gives me side eyes.

"You know what I mean, Ji. What normal people have in case of a zombie apocalypse? Or in your case, being caught doing spy-type activities."

"Do normal people really prepare for a zombie apocalypse? That's the question..."

"Reality television says yes."

He makes a low humming noise. "To answer your question, I have an operational bag. But there are a few things I also always carry on me in case of emergencies."

"Such as?"

A slightly pained expression crosses his face. Information's a valued commodity in his world and here I am forcing him to hand it over for no payoff at all. I almost feel sorry for the guy. "A razor blade, handcuff key, bobby pin...stuff like that I've pretty much always got on me."

"Why a bobby pin? Emergency hair malfunction?"

"Sure, it could be used for that. Though I tend to utilize it more for getting out of zip ties."

"Huh. I know you love your man bag, but I've never actually seen you with any of those other things."

"That's because they' re hidden in my clothing, the hem of my shirt or pants, tongue of my shoe, in my belt and such. Our operations are called clandestine for a reason."

I shake my head. "Wow. Your world is weird."

"I can see how it would seem that way to you. But it's pretty much all I've ever known."

Interesting. "I guess you cam acclimatize to anything given enough time."

"Guess so."

Earlier, we stopped and swapped our license plates with some others stored in the back of the SUV, making it a little harder for anyone who heard about the scene at the gas station to trace us. My aches from sitting in the vehicle for so long. But at least I'm still in one piece.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we turned off the highway. Now we're heading into the hills and wilderness and I don't know what. "Are you going to kill me and dump my body out here among all of this natural splendor"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Oh, good. Hang on, do you have any other fiancées or families I should know about?" I frown. Not a nice thought. Things are confusing enough as is. "Do you?"

"Of course not."

I narrow my eyes on him.

"I'm telling the truth," he says, sounding mildly put out at being questioned. Guess he's not used to it from me. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Anyway, I couldn't even keep you convinced long term. How the hell would I have managed convincing others too? Relationships, real or otherwise, are apparently not my forte."

"But you've had girlfriends before me, right?"

This time he gives me a long look. Long enough to make me worry about us driving off the road and hitting a tree. But we don't. For all of his uselessness as a boyfriend, he handles the vehicle with precision.

"No," he finally answers. "I haven't."

"Boyfriends?"

"None of them either"

My brows rise. I can feel them inching up toward my hairline, about too disappear at any moment.

"Generally, I was doing my best not to get shot, stabbed, or blown up at home and abroad. My priorities were elsewhere," he says. "Wasn't in the right head space in high school, I didn't have time for relationships once I enlisted, and work has kept me busy and on the move since."

"But you got tired of having no one to come home to."

He nods. "That's what I said."

"Guess we have that in common. It's amazing, isn't it? We have this modern world where we're all so connected and yet we're all still so lonely."

Social media does not happiness make. I know that much. "Didn't you want to get real with someone, though? Instead of just going through the motions?"

"I don't think telling someone you steal, lie, and kill for a living would go over so well on a first date."

"Yeah, but we were going to get married. That's a bit beyond first-date territory, Ji."

He sighs. "I was trying to protect you"

Outside the window, redwoods flash by. "If you haven't got honesty in a relationship then what the hell do you have? All of it was nothing more than a lie."

"A lie that kept you safe."

"Except it didn't, did it?"

He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck.

"I find it hard to believe you've never been in any sort of romantic relationship before. Haven't you at least done the preliminaries? Taken someone on a date?" I ask. "Not as part of your work, but just for company?"

"Stopped for a drink or something first? Sure."

Amazing. The man is a real romantic. I tap my fingers against my thighs, thinking deep thoughts. "But weren't you trained in seduction and all that? How to get people to give you what you want in the course of carrying out your nefarious and underhanded schemes?"

"Yes."

"Then how did you mess us up so badly?"

A small line appears between his dark brows. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Maybe I'm just too high-maintenance for you. Or maybe you misread me and played the wrong character."

"Maybe I did," he agrees.

"That happens with bigger girls." I rest my head back, gazing out at all of the aforementioned natural splendor. "People tend to think we'll be happy to take the scraps."

He shoots me a look, but says nothing.

Up a seemingly endless winding path, we reach a decrepit wooden cabin. Still somewhere in northern. The ground is muddy with occasional puddles and the air has a verdant scent similar to the moss we use at work. Guess it's rained a lot lately. Trees are alive with the most beautiful bright autumn colors, while the shack itself is half-covered in spider webs, dirt, and overgrown vines. One of the front windows is shattered and a broken rocking chair sits on the front porch. It looks like something out of a horror film. The type with ghosts and other assorted monsters lurking in the basement. Serial killers hiding in the bedroom.

That sort of thing. Not even the soft hazy late-afternoon light can enhance this dump.

"I guess no one will think to look for us here," I say.

"Come on." He grabs my duffel bag out of the back and hoists it over his shoulder. "Lesson number one, never trust your eyes."

By passing the cabin, he heads straight for the falling-down woodshed or whatever it is at the side. It leans against the original structure at an odd angle, the door hanging on mostly by a thread, so far as I can see. But then he just said not to trust my eyes. The door creaks ominously and Jiyong steps inside the dark, dank shed.

I, however, hesitate. "We're going in there? I think if you're going to kill me, I'd prefer it happened out here. Have the last thing I see be blue sky and butterflies and pretty things like that."

He grabs my hand and tugs me in after him. The door swings shut and clicks into place. And then we wait.

"What are we waiting for?" I whisper for some reason.

"You'll see."

Somewhere between thirty seconds and forever later, I ask, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," growls Jiyong. "Hyun suk, quit dicking around and let us in."

At this, the back wall of the shed swings open to reveal a set of metal stairs descending below ground. Small white lights are embedded in the concrete wall.

It's an honest-to-God underground bunker. Holy hell.

The crazy- survivalist owner in question sits below among long work benches loaded with computers, assorted weaponry, and ammunition. I thought people like this only existed on the Discovery Channel. But he's real, and about fifty or so, with silver hair and reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. "Wasn't expecting you."

"It's an emergency," says Ji. "This is my fiancée, Dara."

Hyun suk's mouth drops open. "You're getting married? You?"

"No," I say just as Jiyong says, "Yes."

The man looks between us, expression bemused.

"We're still working out some issues." A solid compromise from Jiyong.

Sort of. "She's going to stay here with you for a while."

"This have to do with a friend of yours getting hit in South?" asks Hyun suk, crossing his arms.

Jiyong just blinks. "News travels fast. Yes, it does have to do with that."

"Thought as much. All right, then, boy. What do you need?"

"The works."

Hyun suk whistles between his teeth. "It'll cost you."

"I'm aware. Also going to need a hacker. The best you can find."

"On-site?"

"No."

"It's going to take some time to organize."

"That's one thing I don't have a lot of." Jiyong sighs. "How soon can you have it ready?"

"Give me 'til midnight. One at the latest."

"Okay. The vehicle up top needs to disappear as well."

"Roger that." Slowly, Hyun suk rises from his stool, giving me a looking over. "Dara, huh? You realize he's a certified a-hole who doesn't deserve you?"

"I do," I say.

"Good for you, honey. Break his spirit and make him crawl." Hyun suk grins. "Take the room in the back and help yourself to the pot roast in the fridge. Made it myself yesterday. While I seriously love this guy, Ji exudes an aura of less than impressed.

The bunker is all concrete and steel. Though the numerous racks of knives, guns, and other assorted things that go boom lining the walls give it a homey touch. If home is meant to be vaguely apocalyptic, that is. Holy .

"You okay?" asks Jiyong.

"Um, yeah." I wipe my sweaty palms on the side of my jeans. Anxiety is becoming a bad habit, but I don't see it ending anytime soon. "Is that a rocket launcher on that table?"

He turns, taking in the instrument of mass destruction in question.

"Only a small one. Hey, what's wrong? You're not feeling agoraphobic, are you?"

"No, no." My attempt at a smile feels weak and sloppy. "Just..you know...trying to keep up with everything."

"You're doing great. C'mon."

He takes my hand once more, leading me down a hallway. We sure are holding hands a lot lately.

First there's a long, narrow room with a couple of those paper body outlines hanging at the end. Hyun suk has his own underground shooting range, apparently. As you do. Next is a storage room with even more gear and weapons neatly sorted and stored. Then a small kitchen and dining area. A lounge room with an elderly TV, battered-looking La-Z-Boy, and a green plaid sofa. A couple of closed doors, a very minimal bathroom, and finally, a small room with a double bed made up with military precision. It 's like Batman's lair but with more weaponry and less of a cave-like aesthetic.

I'm so far out of my element these days, it's not funny.

"Make yourself at home." Ji dumps my bag on the end of the bed.

"I've got some things to do."

I nod.

"Dara."

I look up. "What?"

"Everything's going to be okay," he says, eyes as serious as they can get. "I promise."

"Who is he? How well do you know him?"

And there's the pause. The entrenched reluctance to withhold all information, to not give anything away. I just wait while he wages his internal battle. Eventually he swallows hard, his lips. "Met him when I joined the Rangers. Things went south on a mission in Afghanistan and he took the fall. politics. He retired from active duty, but he got bored, and also he was a little upset at the government in general, so he decided to set up shop:"

"So, what, he's like the underground Walmart of war now?"

He almost smiles. It's a close thing. "Basically. Only deals with a very select clientele. He owes me a favor. You'll be safe here. This place is basically impenetrable."

"Okay."

"I got to get to work."

"Sure. Go. I'll be fine."

Another pause, and his hand half reaches out, gaze going to my mouth. And I realize what he intended. Because this is what we always used to do when one of us went to work. Before he'd disappear off on a business trip, he'd take my hand and give me a kiss. Nothing overly dramatic or reeking of romance. Just a squeeze of the fingers and quick peck, really. Us going through the motions of being a couple. Him pretending to be my boyfriend.

But now he just stands there, frozen. Lips slightly parted, a faint frown in place. I don't think I've ever seen him look so unsure.

"I'll be fine," I repeat, taking a small step back. Because I don't want him to kiss me. Not if he's only doing it because it's what we do. Not if it means nothing. Though I shouldn't want him kissing me at all. I shouldn't want him anywhere near me. God, this is confusing.

He gives me a slow nod.

"You won't leave without saying goodbye, will you?" I ask.

"No."

"Okay.'"

Then, without another word, he's gone.

Underground bunkers are surprisingly boring. Or not so surprisingly, depending on your point of view. I take a shower and change into a fresh set of jeans and a blue T-shirt. I eat some reheated pot roast and peruse the collection of DVDs. Lots of Clint Eastwood and John Wayne. Some Hong Kong gun fu, Jackie Chan, and Bruce Lee. No idea where Jiyong has gone, but Hyun suk is back to leaning over a workbench. The same as he was when we arrived.

"What are you doing?" I ask, wandering closer.

"Making bullets."

"Can I help?"

"No thank you."

"So you've known Jiyong a long time, huh?"

"That I have."

With a hip leaned against the bench, I do my best just-hanging-out-and- taking-it-easy impression. I am the queen of subtlety. "You know all about his activities and his history and everything?"

With a smile, he sets his little tools and the weighing machine aside.

"You have questions."

"Yes."

"I can't answer them for you."

Damn. "Well, how about you tell me about you, then?"

"Sorry, honey. That's classified." And he's serious. Very much so. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've never seen a woman make Jiyong nervous before"

"Me? Make him nervous?" I laugh. "You must be kidding. He certainly doesn't show it."

"Of course not; it's been trained out of him. Physical tells are a big no-no. Can't have targets reading your body language and figuring out what you're up to." Hyun suk leans in closer, like he's selling state secrets. "Yet I've seen him slip a time or two around you already. It's quite entertaining."

"Huh."

"Why don't we talk about something I'm actually allowed to talk about?" he proposes. "Tell me, Dara, if someone attacked you, what would you do?"

"Scream."

"A good start. What next?" I think it over. 

"I know. I guess I'd hit them or kick them or try to run away if possible."

"Mm-hmm." He crosses his arms. "Do you carry pepper spray?"

"I did, but I lost my handbag and everything when the condo blew up."

"What about a knife?"

"Do not give her a knife." Jiyong appears behind me, sunglasses resting on top of his head. I hate it when he sneaks up on me, which is often. Another giveaway for his true vocation. He's so stealthy, not making a sound. "Moved the SUV into the garage. Where'd you pick up the Cobra?

"None of your business," says Hyun suk. "And it's not for sale."

"Pity."

Meanwhile, there's me and my outrage to consider. "Hey, I'm a florist. I'll play with pretty flowers and sharp things all day. I can handle a knife."

Jiyong doesn't even blink. "Not fighting with one, you can't."

"All right. Then you need to teach me how to fire a gun so I can defend myself."

"You hate guns."

"More than I can possibly say. But we're being hunted here, Ji."

His jaw firms. "No."

"This is ridiculous," I say with just the right touch of petulance. "He just wants to hide me away, safe and sound."

"That's what people do with things they treasure." Hyun suk rises to his feet, cracking his neck. He's pretty buff for an older guy, broad of shoulder, with a barrel chest. But he's way off on the treasure thing. Mostly I'm probably just a pain in the where Jiyong is concerned. But Hyun suk doesn't know that.

This is a lovely underground bunker. I paste a pleasant smile on my face. "But I'm not sure anywhere is completely safe right now. Isn't it better to be prepared?"

"She's got a point," says Hyun suk. "Teach her how to shoot, Jiyong. You've got the time and facilities-use them."

"I don't want this touching her."

"Too late-it already has. If you wanted her to remain a nice, normal girl from the suburbs, then you should never have gone near her."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then do something about it, clown-."

I snort. "Good one."

Jiyong, however, is not amused. "Back off, old man."

"You're just pissed because you know I'm right," returns Hyun suk, nonplussed.

"Am I allowed to say something?" I ask.

"Of course you are, honey," says Hyun suk. It's good to have someone on my side. Especially someone who makes Jiyong stop and listen.

"Neither of you can promise me safety. Not really. Things happen." I look Jiyong right in the eyes, face set. "If the last day and a half has taught me anything, it's that none of us are in complete control of this situation. There's a chance you may not be able to stop what's coming. Give me a fighting chance."

Jiyong's gaze is flat and unhappy.

"Oh, dear," whispers Hyun suk. "He wanted to be your hero in shining armor and you' ve just gone and burst his bubble."

Both Ji and I frown.

"Of course, if they get past our boy here, we're probably all screwed."

Hyun suk gives me a warm smile. I think Ji's father figure just became mine as well.

--

So far, how do you like the story? 😁