Chapter Three
Brandon held her hand tight, almost too tight, as they strolled through the busy intersection of Shinjuku Station. The bright store signs in Kanji had intimidated him at first. But he had a knack with languages. It was one of the reasons he had always been deployed deep behind enemy lines.
He was worried about her. Lillian looked pale and weak, even though she was in good spirits. She hadn’t complained about the whole ordeal, nor had she complained about the wound at the back of her neck. The blood had soaked through her bandage and the collar of the white bathrobe she was wearing. She needed to have that incision tended properly. Perhaps get her some painkillers as well once they reached their destination. But for the time being, they needed to keep moving. Brandon imagined by now, his former boss and Stanford must’ve already issued a full-blown manhunt for him and Lillian. He’d no doubt become the most wanted person in Japan. Brandon stole a glance at Lillian. It’d be worth it. That poor girl. He couldn’t let her continue to suffer.
“You all right?” Brandon curled an arm around her waist and drew her closer, ignoring some people giving them weird looks. He was dressed in a tuxedo while Lillian was barefoot and only wrapped in a bathrobe. They stuck out like a sore thumb against the general population.
A pretty smile plastered her face. He’d never seen her so happy before. He guessed if he were in her shoes, he’d be happy, too, if someone had cancelled his wedding with a jackass like Stanford.
“I’m fine. Where are we going?”
“A friend’s place. You need stitches. Can you hold on for a while? His place isn’t far from here.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Shea.” Lillian squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about me.”
Oh, but he worried. He worried about a lot of things ever since she had begged him to smuggle her out. Especially after he found out how her father had been treating her. Using starvation as a conveyance to control somebody was uncalled for, especially to one’s own flesh and blood. Brandon held her tight and steered her through the sea of people. After he’d learned how Lillian had been treated all these years, he’d decided to help her. He knew it wouldn’t be a cakewalk. As her bodyguard, he knew she’d been implanted with a tracking chip. Removing the chip was easy, but plotting the whole escape route had been a daunting task.
When Brandon consulted his friend, Sal Donahue was more than delighted to help him with the plan. Donahue was his army buddy, a former combat medic who had fallen in love with a Japanese wom
an and had made Tokyo his permanent home. He ran an arcade shop in Center Gai. Donahue would patch Lillian’s wound and get them the necessary documents to get them out of the country.
If Lillian wanted to get out of the country.
Honestly, Brandon hadn’t planned anything beyond spiriting her away on her wedding day. Everything had happened so suddenly. Maybe when he and Lillian had a chance to sit down and talk about what she wanted, he could make arrangements from there. In the meantime, they had to keep moving.
Lillian looked so flushed when they entered Donahue’s shop called Otakutopia. Donahue caught his eye and motioned them to the back of the store. Brandon rushed Lillian, but she was fascinated with the games, figurines and posters in Donahue’s shop.
“Ms. Blackwell.”
She startled. “Sorry.”
Donahue locked the door of his office as soon as they got in. He eyed Lillian and grinned. “So, this is our runaway bride? It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Blackwell.”
“Please, call me Lillian.”
“Lillian. I love that pretty name. Have a seat and let me take a look at Brandon’s cut job. How do you feel?”
“I-I am fine.” Lillian sat in a chair.
“If you can rate your pain from one to ten, what would it be?”
“I…uhm. Three?”
Donahue frowned. “Are you sure?”
“It doesn’t bother me at all. Really.”
Donahue sanitised his hands and opened the bandage. His lips thinned into a hard line as he gave a sidelong glance at Brandon. “Not bad for a grunt. I was expecting something worse.”
“I’m honoured, Your Highness,” Brandon countered dryly.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll stitch this in no time. I’m going to give you a local anaesthesia, Lillian, so don’t worry.”
She meekly answered a thank you and threw a smile at Brandon. He felt uneasy when Lillian grabbed his hand and held on tight as Donahue started working on her neck. He’d been uneasy ever since she’d kissed him in the laundry cart. He was supposed to protect her, not harbour dirty thoughts. But that kiss, innocent as it was, had made his blood boil. It was the first time he’d had a hard-on since his ex-wife, Charlene, died four months ago.
A hard-on at an inappropriate time, in the wrong place and with the wrong woman.
Goddamn it. Brandon pushed everything to the back of his mind and covered her hand with his, giving her some much needed comfort.