Read Online Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas) by S. M. Stelmack - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. M. Stelmack
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Jarun.”
“That’s because he’s a torturer,” said Wakai. “You’re a sadist.”
He hadn’t kept the disgust from his voice and she’d picked up on it. “I can’t help it,” she whimpered. “Please don’t be mad with me, John. Please....”
“I’m not mad,” he replied wearily, the same words he’d said a million times over the years. “But I need him brought here, now. Arrange it, please.”
Victoria trotted off to fulfill her brother’s wishes. She was small, shorter than even the typical Thai girl. If ever looks were deceiving….
He seethed as he watched her go. It was she who had forced him into betraying Alak. She who had botched the simple capture of a teenager. She who’d failed to wring a single word from their prisoner. Yet, even as his anger rose, it dissipated like smoke.
She was his little sister. The last blood he had in the world. The one who’d always encouraged him, admired him and, in her own mad way, loved him. He should have put an end to her sick obsessions when he’d had the chance. Instead he’d only deepened her depravity. It was his fault that she was the way she was. He’d created a monster, one he’d sworn to his mother on her deathbed, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to.
Because, God help him, he loved her, too.
Gina snuggled under the covers of her bed aboard The Pink Pussycat , an icepack against her head.
They’d returned to the boat at dawn, and immediately Darae had set about fussing over the gaggle of children, arranging beds and breakfasts for all. The majority of them were from Cambodia, smuggled across the border with the promise of jobs and a better life in Bangkok. Between the lot of them, they hardly spoke ten words of Thai. That didn’t matter to Darae.
Being an ex-prostitute, brothel madam and wife of a gangster hadn’t stopped Gina’s stepmother from having a soft spot for kids. Unable to have children of her own, she doted on everyone else’s, and had spent millions funding orphanages, medical clinics, schools and scholarships. Sure it was good PR for the Zaffini’s little empire of vice, but Gina knew that whenever Darae gave, the gift was sincere.
With Darae occupied and her dad still asleep, Gina had slipped away, ready to spend the whole day unconscious. Four hours later, there’d been calls for lunch and washing of hands, followed by an excited thundering of little feet past her door to the upper deck. She planned to join them—until she stood. Then, she opted to pop another painkiller instead. God, one hit from Kannon and she felt dead. How did people like Jarun survive him?
There was a knock on her cabin door. “Come in.”
It was Ryota.
“Hey there,” she said, and stuffed another pillow under her head to raise herself up.
He bowed, and then again, as if for good measure. “Ms. Zaffini, may I speak to you about Mr. Takahama?”
This couldn’t be good. “Sure. Shoot.” They both winced at her word choice.
“Your father is very angry with him.”
She struggled to sit up and failed. “Ow, ow, ow. How did he find out? I asked Darae to call me when Daddy got up, so I could explain things.”
“Mr. Takahama told him.”
Gina closed her eyes. Of course, Kannon would do the right and honorable and most incredibly stupid thing.
“I was hoping you might speak in his defense,” he requested. “Things have reached a critical juncture.”
She didn’t want to ask what that meant when it came to her father and Kannon. “Okay, okay,” Gina tossed aside her ice pack and her duvet. Ryota snapped shut his eyes and turned his back. “Oh, for pity’s sake, I do have underwear on.”
“Yes, I understand. But my culture is different.”
Gina began rummaging through her suitcase. “Give me a break. Your culture has vending machines for dirty panties.”
“I have never used them.”
“I believe it. What does Tasanee think of your prudishness?”
His back stiffened. “That is not the way it is
“That’s because he’s a torturer,” said Wakai. “You’re a sadist.”
He hadn’t kept the disgust from his voice and she’d picked up on it. “I can’t help it,” she whimpered. “Please don’t be mad with me, John. Please....”
“I’m not mad,” he replied wearily, the same words he’d said a million times over the years. “But I need him brought here, now. Arrange it, please.”
Victoria trotted off to fulfill her brother’s wishes. She was small, shorter than even the typical Thai girl. If ever looks were deceiving….
He seethed as he watched her go. It was she who had forced him into betraying Alak. She who had botched the simple capture of a teenager. She who’d failed to wring a single word from their prisoner. Yet, even as his anger rose, it dissipated like smoke.
She was his little sister. The last blood he had in the world. The one who’d always encouraged him, admired him and, in her own mad way, loved him. He should have put an end to her sick obsessions when he’d had the chance. Instead he’d only deepened her depravity. It was his fault that she was the way she was. He’d created a monster, one he’d sworn to his mother on her deathbed, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to.
Because, God help him, he loved her, too.
Gina snuggled under the covers of her bed aboard The Pink Pussycat , an icepack against her head.
They’d returned to the boat at dawn, and immediately Darae had set about fussing over the gaggle of children, arranging beds and breakfasts for all. The majority of them were from Cambodia, smuggled across the border with the promise of jobs and a better life in Bangkok. Between the lot of them, they hardly spoke ten words of Thai. That didn’t matter to Darae.
Being an ex-prostitute, brothel madam and wife of a gangster hadn’t stopped Gina’s stepmother from having a soft spot for kids. Unable to have children of her own, she doted on everyone else’s, and had spent millions funding orphanages, medical clinics, schools and scholarships. Sure it was good PR for the Zaffini’s little empire of vice, but Gina knew that whenever Darae gave, the gift was sincere.
With Darae occupied and her dad still asleep, Gina had slipped away, ready to spend the whole day unconscious. Four hours later, there’d been calls for lunch and washing of hands, followed by an excited thundering of little feet past her door to the upper deck. She planned to join them—until she stood. Then, she opted to pop another painkiller instead. God, one hit from Kannon and she felt dead. How did people like Jarun survive him?
There was a knock on her cabin door. “Come in.”
It was Ryota.
“Hey there,” she said, and stuffed another pillow under her head to raise herself up.
He bowed, and then again, as if for good measure. “Ms. Zaffini, may I speak to you about Mr. Takahama?”
This couldn’t be good. “Sure. Shoot.” They both winced at her word choice.
“Your father is very angry with him.”
She struggled to sit up and failed. “Ow, ow, ow. How did he find out? I asked Darae to call me when Daddy got up, so I could explain things.”
“Mr. Takahama told him.”
Gina closed her eyes. Of course, Kannon would do the right and honorable and most incredibly stupid thing.
“I was hoping you might speak in his defense,” he requested. “Things have reached a critical juncture.”
She didn’t want to ask what that meant when it came to her father and Kannon. “Okay, okay,” Gina tossed aside her ice pack and her duvet. Ryota snapped shut his eyes and turned his back. “Oh, for pity’s sake, I do have underwear on.”
“Yes, I understand. But my culture is different.”
Gina began rummaging through her suitcase. “Give me a break. Your culture has vending machines for dirty panties.”
“I have never used them.”
“I believe it. What does Tasanee think of your prudishness?”
His back stiffened. “That is not the way it is
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