Dara's POV

"Babe," says Jiyong. "I realize you're thinking deep thoughts. But please don't tap the gun against your thigh like that."

"Oh." I place the loaded weapon into the mostly empty glove compartment alongside a small half-used packet of Kleenex and an out-of-date protein bar. Nice and safe.

He gives me a nod, satisfied with the precautions. The other gun disappeared back into his ankle holster earlier. If necessary, he can get his hands on one or the other relatively quickly. Now that we're on the move once more, on a busy-ish highway, he's back to darting his eyes from the road to all the mirrors and back again. Making sure we aren't being followed. Yet he's also obviously watching me too.

"How did you know I was thinking deep thoughts?" I ask, curious.

"You're always overthinking something. It's pretty much your S.O.P:"

"And you don't?"

"Wouldn't have stayed alive long if my thoughts drifted when I'm on missions," he says. "I've been trained to collect the data and crunch it. Decide upon a plan and carry it out."

"You never change your mind?'

"If factors alter, of course I do. You have to be willing to be flexible."

"So why haven't you changed your mind about us?"

"I see no reason to change my mind about us."

"Even though I know your secret now and all the parameters you set on this relationship have been shot to hell?"

He glances my way. "I figure if anything, Dara, you knowing should make our relationship better. In the long-term. Once we get through this somewhat rocky period."

"Only you would describe being on the run for our lives as a somewhat rocky period."

"Only you would make me pay for this piece-of- car."

I laugh. Apparently fear makes me giggly sometimes. Go figure. We pull off the highway, taking a one-lane road deep into some different woods. These are on flat ground.

"Im still not going to kill you and bury your lovely body among all of this natural splendor, just in case you were wondering," he says.

"I wasn't. I know you're not."

The smile he gives me is kind of glorious. The way it reaches his eyes. Old Jiyong's grins kind of left me unmoved a lot of the time. Unsure about his true intentions or feelings. They were perfunctory things. Now I know why, of course. But also, now I'm seeing something so much better. It's even a little tummy fluttering and knee weakening. Damn him.

"You do trust me," he says

"Eh. Maybe."

He smiles some more as we pull into a small airfield. There's one large hangar and a sleek white private jet waiting on the tarmac. We might be on the run for our lives, though if I'm not much mistaken, Jiyong is actually starting to relax around me. To be himself. I don't know how I feel about this. It is harder to sustain the anger when he's being all charming and protective and so on. But maybe our relationship or lack thereof doesn't require an emotional status update. Maybe I can just let it be.

Taeyang comes down the little jet's steps, the big man lifting a hand in welcome. With his short blond hair neatly tied back, he's dressed to impress. In a pilot's uniform, by the look.

"You think he's safe? " I ask.

"Yeah." Jiyong nods and we pull to a stop near the jet. "He was the first to be cleared by our new hacker friend. She's pretty efficient at searching for offshore accounts and so on. Any possible dodgy or coded communications that might coincide with recent events. We can't be a hundred percent certain of anyone, but I've known Taeyang a long time. Switching sides isn't his style."

"Your hacker works fast."

"She does. Charges a fortune too," he says. "But you get what you pay for. Can't afford any more mistakes with this. Whoever is involved needs to be found. You hop out here and I'll go stash this thing around back, out of sight."

"Okay."

Taeyang opens my door, giving me a hand out. What a gentleman. "Nice ride."

" off," replies Jiyong without heat. "Wheels up in five."

"On it." Taeyang tucks my hand around his elbow, leading me toward the plane. "There's fresh clothes for you onboard. We need to get rid of everything you're wearing, okay?"

"Is this about possible beacons or tracers or whatever?" I ask.

"Got it in one."

"Can I keep my gun?"

Taeyang's brows rise. "Jiyong gave you a gun?"

I nod.

"If it's one of his, then sure, you can keep it."

"Wait, will there be airport security when we land?"

The man just smiles and ushers me up the steps. I guess airport security isn't a thing in the circles these guys move. Inside is all white leather and charcoal-gray carpeting. Big comfortable-looking seats and discreet lighting. It's the sort of thing billionaires and celebrities ride around in, no doubt. Wonder where they got it from. I'm probably better off not knowing.

"Bathroom's at the back," says Taeyang. "Your outfit's hanging up inside. Try and be quick, all right?"

I nod.

The facilities aren't much bigger than on a regular plane. But there's a tiny sink trimmed in marble and an impressive, if small, shower unit. Hanging on the back of the door encased in clear plastic is a navy pants suit in my size, complete with a white knit crew neck. The brand is all Escada.

I'm certainly dressing fancier since Jiyong got outed as an operative, that's for sure. As per Taeyang's instructions, I hurry. Behind the suit is a bag with all of the necessary underwear. No shoes, however, so I head out barefoot.

"Where do you want them?" I ask, old clothes bundled up in one hand and boots in the other. "Do I keep the same shoes or what, because they don't really-"

And I stop ever so slightly dead.

Jiyong is standing in the aisle pulling on a pair of dark boxer briefs. His arms flexing and junk hanging free. There's just so much skin to see. Take the ridges of his spine and strong planes of his back muscles leading to the dimples above his , for instance. The sadness and almost indifference of the days prior to my leaving him have been replaced by a horrid hyperawareness of him, which is growing by the moment. And it's dangerous.

My gaze cannot be averted fast enough. Why the hell can't the man keep his clothes on? I feel personally attacked.

"Give me a second," he says, reaching for a pair of black suit pants. Then he, too, stops. "Why do you have your angry face on?

"I'm not angry; I'm fine."

Nothing from him.

"Can you please get dressed? We're in a hurry, right?"

"Huh. I find it fascinating that seeing me messes with you to this degree."

"Ji," I growl.

The side of his mouth kicks up. Smirking bastard. "Dump them anywhere. I'll deal with them. Your shoes and coat are on the chair there." 

I don't throw my clothes on the ground because it would be juvenile and possibly confirm his bull theory about me being frazzled by his bare . He's right, but he doesn't need to know this. Also, I really did dig these unicorn jammies. Instead, I place my load gently on a plush white leather seat and turn to inspect the rest of my goodies. Not thinking about the thickness of his thighs or anything along those lines. Though I may need some private time soon. All of this restless (possibly slightly ual in nature) energy is amassing inside of me. 

It can't be healthy. Maybe it's been brought on by all of the ongoing fear and tension from almost being killed, et cetera. Couldn't be anything to do with him. Or it shouldn't have anything to do with him.

Yeah, right.

Regardless, I don't look at Jiyong again. It's nice to know I have at least this much restraint. Meanwhile, Bear is in the cockpit, doing whatever pilots do before takeoff. My shoes are a pointy pair of gray leather high-heeled booties that I'll quite possible break an ankle in. Though they are lovely. I'd kill for some make-up, but never mind. A woolen coat, pair of big sunglasses, and a Chloé handbag complete the outfit. Nothing is actually in the bag, but you can't have it all.

"If you make me dump this outit somewhere, I just might have to hurt you," I say. "I look good in it."

"You look good in everything, and I will buy you more unicorn-patterned items. Promise."

I ignore the compliment. It's safer that way. Yet when I dare a peek from under my lashes, it's hard to say if I'm relieved or disappointed at his full state of dress. e, too, is wearing designer, by the look of things. A beautifully cut black suit with a plain white shirt. No tie. Shiny black shoes and hair slicked back. They say a man in a suit is like a woman in lingerie.

Now I understand why.

'So what's the occasion?" I ask.

"Another couple of rich s hitting Jeju for some shopping and a couple of shows shouldn't raise any interest."

"Let's hope not."

Jiyong gathers up the old clothes, tossing them out the plane's still-open door. Such a waste. Hopefully whoever uses the airfield next will put them to use. My parents would be appalled. They don't get rid of anything until it's half-past dead, and even then, it's inevitably somehow recycled. Jiyong and I, on the other hand, are leaving a trail of abandoned cars and clothes across the country. Something tells me such things don't concern operatives. Further evidence of my fiancé and me having nothing in common. I'll have to donate to a charity on both our behalfs to erase the karmic debt so I'll be able to look my parents in the eye come Christmas.

Damn guilt complex. Of course, we have to live that long first. They must be so worried about me. I hate not being able to contact them, let them know I'm still breathing.

Jiyong hits a button and the stairs fold up, the door slowly closing. "Put your belt on, please."

We could both catch a bullet at just about any time and yet he's always so safety conscious in these little ways. It's interesting. I do as asked. "How did you organize all of this stuff so quickly, the outfits and plane and everything?"

"I have my tricks." Of course hed be secretive. It's second nature to the man. He takes the seat beside me, settling in and closing his eyes. The plane engine hums and we start to move, taxying down the runway.

"or you could give me a straight answer," I suggest.

He gives a slight shrug. "Contacts. Ground crew. People for hire. Take your pick."

"And you trust them to know where we're going?"

"I trust people who are completely removed from this situation with small amounts of information."

"But you thought Hyun suk was completely removed from the situation too."

"Yeah. The little line appears between his brows. "We were traced. I'm not happy about that."

Not a pleasant thought for me either. But not one I wish to dwell on right now. "I've never been to Jeju."

"No?" he asks. "Oh, you'll love it, even though you're not going to get to experience any of it because you're going to be tucked away nice and safe while I sort out."

"I'm supposed to love it through a window?"

"Exactly, he says, eyes still closed. "You'll watch a stupid amount of television, eat a dazzling array of delivery cuisine, and catch up on your R and R

"Speaking of which, I need a holster for my gun. Preferably something that doesn't interfere with the lines of my new look."

A heavy sigh. "Can you at least give me a few hours while we're in the air to reconcile myself to my fiancée being permanently armed? Just to pretend I have a choice in the matter before I eventually give in?"

"All right. Thank you."

"Try and relax. We' re safe for a little while," he say's. "It's not like anyone is going to blow us out of the sky."

"You know, it hadn't even occurred to me that was a possibility until you said it just now"

"Oops."

"How do you get used to people wanting to kill you all the time?"

His brows lift slightly. "Well. usually it's not all the time. But yeah, it's not easy."

"No kidding." I rub at my chest with the heel of my hand. "I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of having a heart attack."

"And it's all my fault. I dragged you into this mess and I'm sorry." His face is deadly serious. "You're going to be fine, Dara. I'm going to make sure you're fine."

I attempt a smile, but it doesn't quite work. It's a delicate balance, blaming him for this situation, while still being glad he's here beside me to help deal with things.

Jiyong picks up my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. Without asking or anything. And I let him. That's the kick of it- I just let him. Not because I need comtort. Hell no. But it seems only polite after he agreed to give me a gun. One of the flimsiest and oddest pretexts for letting a guy hold my hand ever. I should take a stand and insist on a little space between us.

Affectionate gestures like this just confuse things. My speech should probably also include a request for him to remain fully clothed in my presence. But I digress. We both need to be focusing on staying alive as opposed to sorting out the eternal mystery that is our relationship. I don't want to die. I also don't want him to die. And killers are on our trail. Before I can attempt to extract myself, however, his hold slightly tightens while his breathing evens out. He's either fast asleep or on his way there.

I can't disturb him now. No. I'll just have to hold his hand.

--

"You're trying too hard."

"What?" I pause, caught somewhere between a swagger and a dash as we cross the tarmac. My hair is being blown apart by a wind cold enough to chap a snowman's . But my outfit remains fabulous just the same.

"Relax," says Jiyong, steering me toward a parking lot. "Car's over here."

"You said two rich s hitting Jeju. I'm just trying to live up to the designer suit and everything." And the gun. It's a slight weight to the side beneath my jacket, nestled against my , and sticking into my side.

The power to take a person's life is sitting right there. Or at least the power to seriously inconvenience them and quite possibly cause immense pain. Only I don't mention the gun because Jiyong's probably still not happy about me having it.

Like mine, his face is also partly covered by sunglasses, and he keeps his head angled down. Probably insufficient for throwing off facial-recognition- type software stuff. But he obviously doesn't believe the government is the threat. Still, it never occurred to me how thoroughly security cameras have infiltrated our lives. Of course, I never tried to avoid them before.

"Best way not to attract attention is to not act suspicious." His hand hovers at my lower back, ready to move me if the need arises. "or like you're someone important that everyone should notice. Rich folk get killed the same as poor people."

"Okay. Sorry." I got carried away.

"Remember, you're on a missing persons list. We do not need any attention. Just try and act natural."

"There's nothing natural about wearing five-inch heels," I scoff.

The side of his mouth quirks.

Taeyang is stowing the jet or whatever it is you do with those things when they're not in use. I thought I had an idea of what my life with and without Jiyong would be like. But it's all changing so fast I can barely keep up. I'd thought maybe I'd feel better once I was away from stifling safe houses and creepy cabins in the woods and back in public, among people again. But instead it turns out that being out in the open . Paranoia is once again running rife, the back of my neck itching with the feel of being in somebody's crosshairs.

Jiyong moves us at a good pace, though we're definitely not running for cover. Guess it means we're okay for now. He draws a fob out of his pocket and the lights of a new black sedan flash once. I'm ushered into the passenger side while he moves around the front of the car to take the driver's seat.

"Are we waiting for Taeyang?" I ask, doing up my seat belt.

"He'll catch up with us later. There's a cell in the glove compartment-do you mind getting it out?" The engine purrs to life and we're on our way, out of the parking lot and onto the streets in a built-up industrial-looking area.

"Sure."

"It's not locked. I need you to key in some contacts for me, please."

My thumbs move over the screen.

"Contact one, ready?" he asks.

"Go for it."

He rattles off a string of numbers. "Now text to them the word report. Just that. Nothing else."

"Done."

The exact same process is repeated no less than nine times, with Jiyong reciting the numbers off the top of his head. Me remembering my own number is a minor miracle. But he has no problem, never hesitating, never getting a digit wrong. Again, the question of how intensive his training was and what it covered makes me wonder. I know he's dangerous. I also know he says he's on my side. I think I trust him. But none of this really helps answer the fundamental question: Who the hell have I been sleeping with?

Contact two says Minzy is clear," I report. "I take it that's your hacker doing checks to see if there's any online trace of backstabbing and murder?"

The skin tightens around his eyes. "Yeah."

"Hey, you gave me the cell."

"I know."

"You're just not used to me being all up in your business."

His lips flatline. "I don't want you in any more danger than you already are."

Another alert flashes across the screen. "Contact one says The Thornbrook. What is that, a hotel or something?"

"Yeah. Upscale. Good security." He's frowning, so maybe The Thornbrook isn't our new safe house, but something else entirely.

"How are you going to get inside?" I ask. "I assume that's what you need to do."

He takes his time answering, gaze switching from the road to me and back again. "The less you know, the better. I'll think of something"

"So you're not going to tell me who you're going to meet there either, huh?"

"No, I'm not."

I set the cell in my lap, thinking deep thoughts. It's way too late to keep me safe by keeping me in the dark. The man is an idiot. So what if I'm constantly terrified and freaked out over all of this? I need to know what we're dealing with so I can be better prepared. Already, people have tried to blow me up, interrogate me, and I've been in my first gunfight. Fact is, the sooner he sorts out this mess, the better. So I can tell my friends and family that I'm okay. Get back to my normal life and find out if I still have a job. 

Put all of this crazy behind me. No idea if this will mean saying goodbye to Jiyong. No idea how I even feel about that. Probably best to deal with one impossible situation at a time.

"You're checking al of your work pals out via the hacker you hired since they're the most obvious suspects and there's a high probability of this being an inside job," I say, putting all of the pieces together inside my head. "You said earlier that Taeyang was the first to be cleared by our new hacker friend. I assume Minzy is the second. No bad guys outed among the group so far. So no leads on that front."

A big loud nothing from Jiyong. Meaning I'm probably on the right track.

"You said something to Daesung about having trouble getting a message through to the bosses. Guess they either don't want to be caught up in this, or they're the ones responsible."

A muscle pops in the side of his jaw.

"You're going to make contact with one of them, aren't you? One of the bosses?"

"How did you figure that out?" he growls. "Did another text come in?"

"No. I raise my chin. "I used my brain."

He glances at me.

"Also, I watch thrillers and spy movies. I know stuff," I say. "And I manage a successful, high-volume inner-city florist with a multimillion dollar turnover. Every day I deal with impossible deadlines and frantie brides. I organize things and solve problems. Well, I used to, before I became a fugitive. Point being, I'm not stupid."

"Dara, I know you' re not stupid. But these people are dangerous."

"Everything right now is dangerous," I say. The man is seriously unhappy. I almost feel bad for him since he's only trying to protect me. When he holds out a hand, I pass him the cell without further comment.

For the longest moment, he says nothing. "You're right. I need to find out what's going on with the bosses, learn what they know."

I nod.

"Sorry. I'm not used to sharing this sort of stuff with anyone. Even with Taeyang and Minzy, it's a need-to-know policy."

"You didn't share it with me. I guessed." I turn to watch the pedestrians out braving the bad weather. "hy did you crush your cell before we left Gangnam? Why not just kill the SIM like you usually do?"

"Someone could have been tracking us through a program loaded onto the cell. Its not easy to do and they probably would ve had to physicaly access the phone sometime in the past to do it. So we ditched it. Wasn't worth the risk."

Outside, the traffic thickens as we draw closer to the city. The daylight turns into little more than haze this late in the afternoon, streetlights glowing in the wet conditions. We circle a block twice before finding a place to park. Thank goodness for the thick coat and leather gloves. As awesome as it is, a designer handbag is no defense against the cold.

Jiyong leads me over to the sidewalk, keeping his body between mine and the street. Constantly surveying the area, we head toward an old brick building three stories high. Nothing fancy or anything, though it does seem clean and well-maintained. The elevator smells vaguely of Thai food and makes a few suspicious mechanical-type groaning noises as we ride up.

He stops at a door on the top floor in the corner position, unlocks it, and turns off the alarm. "In you go."

"Does this place belong to you or the zoo?"

"Me. Wait here a moment, please." He ducks his head into several small rooms, scanning them quickly. "We're fine. Come on through."

An exposed brick wall runs the length of the loft-type space. First I see a small walk-in closet, a small, clean white bathroom, followed by the main open area. There's a clean white kitchen, a large bed made up with sheets and blankets, a wooden table with two stools by the window, and a two seater sofa and TV hanging on the wall.

"Cozy," l say, hanging my coat over back of a chair. 

I place my handbag and gloves on top of the table. It seems wrong to invade the space with stuff, given the perfect minimal look of the place, but that's life. The apartment has a lot in common with the ranch safe house back in Gangnam. No pictures. No personal belongings. At least, noneI can see.

Jiyong just shrugs. "Not somewhere I spend much time."

"Where do you spend your time?"

"When I'm not working, I'm home with you." He empties his pockets onto the table. The car fob, the new cell, his gun and spare magazine...you know, the usual. "Guess we're going to need a new place to live."

No comment from me.

"I've got a few properties around Jeju. you can take a look at. See which one you like best. Or we can get something new, though Id prefer to avoid any large financial transfers if possible. Makes it harder to stay off people's radars."

"How many places do you own exactly, and what is your bank account balance?"

"My job pays okay." He cracks his neck. "And in this line of work, it's wise to have a few safe houses."

"In case your cover gets blown."

"That's right. I stop by each of them now and then, collect any mail and check on security. Make sure nothing has been tampered with and see to any basic maintenance.

"Your world is interesting, I'll give it that." I rub at the back of my ovwn neck, trying to relieve the bunched-up muscles. Stress always winds me up tight. And I don't think I've ever been as stressed as I am these days. Even being a florist on Valentine's or Mother's Day has nothing on running for your life. On being hunted.

"Let me," says Jiyong, standing in front of me. Much closer than necessary.

"You don't need to-"

"I know I don't need to. But I want to." Strong fingers dig into my sore muscles, turning me into mush. Then he makes a disgruntled noise and undoes the buttons on the front of my suit jacket. His hands are sure, certain of my submission. His warm palms skim over the knit shirt, slide the jacket off my shoulders and down my arms before placing it on the table. My gun and holster are next and Jiyong does not look sorry to see them gone. 

"That's better."

I'm not so sure. The sensible part of my brain suggests I need all the armor I can get when it comes to this man. Though it feels good, the kneading pressure of his hands. It also feels a whole lot like seduction. Warning bells once again ring inside my head. "What are you doing?

"Working on the knots in your neck. What are you doing besides overthinking everything?"

"You'd like it if I just stopped using my brain and didn't ask questions, wouldn't you?"

The edge of his lips quirk up. "Now that you mention it, it would make things simpler"

"Ha. Keep dreaming. Speaking of overthinking things, how are you going to get the bosses to help you?"

A sigh.

"I'm serious. What 's the plan?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not a chance." I gave him my very best fake smile. The one that's so blatantly obvious it's like a slap across the face. Never say sarcasm can't be a superpower. "I know all about your bull now, sweetheart. May as well answer my questions because there's no way I'm just going to go along quietly with whatever you want. Consider us partners in this whole staying alive thing"

"Well, that . Though I must say, you' re particularly hot when you're being all stubborn and demanding, telling me off like that." 

I look to heaven. "Just answer the question."

There's a few ways to go about obtaining someone's assistance or compliance in a situation," he says. "Start by trying to appeal to their principles or feelings of patriotism. I know you haven't seen much of it so far, but the zoo actualy does a lot of good in the world. If neither of those work, then you move on to their ego. Sometimes it takes a mix of all three. Last resort is usually blackmail or threat, because once you try that, there's no putting t back in the box. The key is finding an incentive that hooks them on a personal level. Even if you re paying them, they need to feel emotionaly invested so there s less chance they' ll turn on you. Especially if you need them to act against their own interests or just not do what's easiest for them. People are lazy as all hell, and ninety-nine percent of the time, they'll choose the path of least resistance."

"But you re not going to be paying them."

He shakes his head. "No. These people have the sort of wealth that makes billionaires look low-key."

"And standing back and letting you all get killed would be easier for them."

"Absolutely. No one's irreplaceable, he says, voice matter-of-fact imagine they're pretty busy covering their own hides right about now."

"You need to convince them to come out and play. it makes sense. Whoever these people are, they obviously have serious power and resources. But maybe we can still get out of this without anyone else dying. If we can get them to help us."

"I'd rather convince you to play with me."

"This is serious."

"I'm being very serious, Sandara."

"No, you're not, Jiyong."

--

Hmmm?