Chapter 22: Down The Mafia Rabbit Hole

Genevieve:

As Vin and Gunner followed closely behind, surveying the parking garage, Raphael pulled open the glass door of the mall for Genevieve to enter. She forced a smile on her lips to try and at least act nice, since he had ceased any and all communication with her that wasn’t absolutely necessary.

When she was close enough to hear, Raphael lowered his voice and huffed, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Oh, so he was going to be acting like that? Genevieve allowed her irritation to resurface at their situation and she bit out, “We accepted the invite months ago. I can’t go back on my word. That’s unprofessional.”

Raphael pushed the door back harshly, giving Gunner and Vin time to grab it before they followed the both of them in. He moved to Genevieve’s side quickly, his thick frame almost all that Genevieve could feel, smell. Sense. There was an internal shiver that grabbed a hold of her heart when she remembered what it had felt like to have Raphael’s hot, wet tongue on her—no. She wasn’t going to be thinking about that right then. Not when she had a booksigning to worry about.

Raphael wouldn’t let it go, though. “Like the hell these men care about professionalism. You do know what they do, right?”

His voice was low and almost primal in the way he growled out the words. It only shot more heat down into Genevieve’s core and she had to bite her lip not to grab onto Raphael’s arm for support. Her legs were weak with need, but she wasn’t going to give in. Nor was she going to let Raphael know just how much he affected her.

Instead, she took the high road. And by that, she went straight down to hit below the belt. “Well, after you barged into the bathroom the way you did, I figured it out quick enough. That doesn’t change the fact that I accepted an offer to show up for a book signing.” When she was satisfied that Raphael wasn’t going to argue anymore on the point, she sighed. “Anyways, you’re here. You’ll protect me.”

He grunted, “Always.”

They fell into silence as they walked across the long, glass terminal that connected the parking garage and the mall from over the city roads. Genevieve touched the ruby necklace that laid against her neck. She had only taken it off to shower that morning, but she wondered if it was a bit over-dramatic to be that attached to a necklace from a complete stranger. One that could be just as dangerous as her stalker. Or could very well be the same man.

The sincerity he showed, though, proved to be a lot more caring than her stalker had been. At least, in her own mind anyway. She hoped, deep down, that the stranger would send another gift. That she’d get the chance to meet them. She had assumed them a man, though she wasn’t sure of their gender. When she thought of them, there was a light, fluffy cloud-like warmth that embraced her and had a smile tugging on her lips. They noticed her, but not in the same dark, disturbed way that her stalker had. They cared for her, whereas the man that was all but hunting her down wanted to simply obtain her. To own every part of her.

The mall was loud and bustling, the afternoon activities in full swing. There was a foodcourt to their left with several sit-in restaurants while the second floor above had high-end boutiques and well-guarded stores. Genevieve all but came to a stumbling halt as a shadow fell across her.

In front of her stood a man clad in a black long sleeve button up with a maroon vest. There was a design etched into the fabric that, as she looked closer, she could tell were made to look like scales. His gaze was dark and with the fall of his ebony hair over his forehead, the shadows cast an almost brooding-like nature to his appearance. His smile was large, but there was a strange edge to it that had Genevieve’s spine gripped in fear. This man was dangerous.

He held his hand out in greeting and dipped his head in a soft bow. “Good afternoon, Ms. Blake, I am Tokko Yohan, the board member that invited you.”

Genevieve paused for a moment. She’d had Karoline send an email back to accept the request of a booksigning, but she had thought the man’s last name had been Tokko. She almost fumbled reaching back out to greet the man when it finally connected that he had introduced himself in the way that was normal of his culture. Last name, and then first name. Her mind spun as heat rose up in her cheeks at her delay of a greeting.

“Oh, hello Mr. Tokko.”

Had she taken too long? Had she maybe messed up and his first name was actually Tokko? Genevieve was about to fall back next to Raphael’s side for support when she felt the gentle pressure of his fingers that propped the left side of her hip.

She sucked in a quick breathe, her lungs icy as his touch all but burned her through her shirt.

“Please, call me Yohan. Please, sit. Let’s have a chat while they finish setting up your area.”

Yohan offered her a spot in one of the plus couches a few feet away. There were plants and glass tables next to each one and there were several more areas such as that one throughout the first floor of the mall.

“Thank you.”

Though the couches were close together, Genevieve perched on the edge of hers, her skirt tightening with the pressure of her hips and thighs as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

“So, how are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s…uh, okay.”

Yeah, having a stalker hunt her down and demand every piece of her was definitely the highlight of her week.

Yohan huffed and ran his fingers through his hair that ended up simply falling back into place. Genevieve had to admit, that if she wasn’t so terrified of the man, that she’d be attracted to him. Though he seemed younger than her by at least a few years, his voice had an underlying gravelly hint to it that reminded her a bit of Raphael’s.

“I have to say, when my partners refused to stop talking about you, I had to find out for myself what you were like.”

“They’re just books.”

“Dirty, filthy books. I loved them.”

Each word that left his mouth had Yohan’s grin widening and his body growing near Genevieve’s. His elbows now dug into his thighs as his eyes never left hers.

All she could do was swallow her fear and remind herself that Raphael was right behind her. “Thank you.”

It was a quiet beat before Yohan asked, “so, tell me, how is your love life?”

“What?” Genevieve breathed in, her chest tight and angry. She cleared her throat which reopened her airway and allowed oxygen to flow back through. She had to glance down, away from the watchful gaze that was on her.

“I’m curious to know where you’ve come up with such a vivid imagination.”

Yohan reached across the space and placed a hand on Genevieve’s knee. It wasn’t a tight grip, but the touch sent an icy shiver up her spine. She had to tighten the grip she had on the end of the chair in order to keep herself from pulling away. Genevieve remembered Raphael’s words, and knew that if she offended Yohan in any way, that it wouldn’t end well for them. That’s just what she needed. Another incident moments before she was about to head home.

No, she was going to remain professional, even if the advances he was giving her sent her fight or flight reflexes into overdrive.

Genevieve could see why many people fell for his charm. It was his looks, his alluring, sly eyes that had a similar pull to that of gravity. One would be drawn in by the mesmerizing danger of Yohan, though maybe Genevieve was immune to his power. His presence. Or she simply had enough of the cunning, obsessive heat that her stalker had drowned her in for Yohan to have much effect.

She opened her mouth to speak, unsure of what she was going to say that wasn’t a blatant disrespect, when Yohan continued instead.

“I wonder,” he hummed as he tilted his head in thought and released his grip on her. “Does it have anything to do with the three ravishing men that follow you around?”

There it was. The fear that Genevieve had at the beginning. That being followed by a group of men would cause this sort of misunderstanding.

“I mean, your last book, didn’t it involve a scene with four men? The heroine took them all at once if I remember correctly.” Yohan tapped his chin before a grin widened across his face. A shiver rippled up Genevieve’s spine. “Oh, but it could just be the man that’s standing right behind you. He looks like he wants to kill me.”

What?

Genevieve pivoted in her seat to glance back. Sure enough, Raphael stood there, his shoulders bunched up, hands in fists at his side and his gaze lowered toward the board member–which she knew was a cover for being a leader of the Dragon’s Syndicate in Orange Grove. Raphael was standing closer to her than she had realized, his arm almost brushing the back of the couch as he pivoted away, back to surveying the mall’s main floor.

In turn, Genevieve turned back toward Yohan, her body filled with a heated vibration at Raphael’s expression. She kept her eyes down, unsure of how to react in front of the mobster.

“If I remember correctly,” Yohan simply continued speaking, unfazed by Raphael’s apparent disdain, “your bodyguards are from Wolff Protection. It’s a smaller branch of Havoc Security run from out in Highland Park. The Havoc Daemons run that shitshow right? So it looks like you’ve gotten yourself tied up with mobsters in every direction.” The laugh that left Yohan’s throat left nothing but unease behind.

Genevieve wanted to question him. Ask him how he knew where her men were from. How he found the connection between Raphael and a syndicate all of the way across the country, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Especially as new questions began to circle through her head. Raphael, Gunner, Vin, they were all connected to the mafia. The Havoc Daemons were the second most powerful family in Highland Park. They had ties with every major crime syndicate across the country, not to mention a few overseas. They had men inside the police department too. Even some as high up as government officials.

And Raphael was a part of it.

“Sir,” a man in a fitted black suit approached Yohan. His hair was buzzed short, his eyes narrowed on passersbys as he bent down to speak softly to the mobster. Though they weren’t so much as whispering as speaking in a lower tone, Genevieve couldn’t catch any of their conversation as they had fallen into another language. It sounded like Korean to her ears, but she couldn’t be sure.

Once the man had straightened and took a step back, he whispered into the cufflink of his jacket, which must hold the transmitter of his communication device. Genevieve tore her gaze away from him and back toward Yohan who was laughing.

“It looks like you brought another friend with you.”

It was as though someone had punched right through her gut and grabbed a hold of her spine, trying to rip it out through her stomach.

There was only one other person that would be brave enough to infiltrate the mall, lying low until that moment when they were spotted. Only one person skilled enough to bypass their security. Yet Yohan wasn’t the least bit nervous.

Genevieve pivoted on the couch, trying to grab sight of her three men. Raphael’s hand was to his ear, a deep groove in his brow. “Raph–”

Warm mist splattered across Genevieve’s face moments before the echo of a gunshot vibrated through her body. The screams of those within the mall followed shortly after, but Raphael was tumbling over the couch, his left arm dragging Genevieve down to the ground. A thud shook the couch as they crouched, another boom of a gunshot ringing all around them.

Breathing heavily, Genevieve gripped Raphael’s hand that was around her shoulders, but her fingers slipped across his skin. She brought them close to her face, her vision blurred around the edges, but all she could see was red. Bright, shiny, angry red; blood.

“Raphael!”

“It’s okay, babygirl.” He huffed, but his voice was strained as he peeked around the couch. His eyes were on the second floor balcony.

“But you’ve been shot!” Her voice sounded small and tinny to her own ears, but Raphael leaned his forehead against hers, his breath hot against her cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Tears dripped down her cheeks and dribbled onto her skirt. When Genevieve looked down at the mess she noticed the taintness of crimson in the fabric. That’s when she realized that the mist that had sprayed her wasn’t water. It had been Raphael’s blood. He was what had stopped the bullet from hitting her. He could possibly die because of her.

Genevieve’s vision darkened, her chest tightening until she couldn’t breathe. She gripped Raphael’s hand and prayed to the high heavens that he would survive. That their roles were reversed. Anything.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed before her mind shut off and she slumped against Raphael.