Hard, steady thumps drew Geneviève down one of the various hallways in the living section of the warehouse. Slowly peering around corners as she got closer to the source of the noise. In the training room, full of what looked like torture equipment, Ji had his back to her, the white tank he wore plastered to his back with sweat. The snake on his shoulder glistened like a faceted jewel. Long, golden hair tied in a messy bundle, his focus was on a large sack hanging from the ceiling in front of him. As she watched, his arms lifted, revealing white tape wrapped firmly around his hands and wrists.

Laser focus was on the swinging bag, his entire body coiled like a spring, waiting to explode. Hugging the doorframe, Geneviève watched in silence as he lashed out with his right fist, the bag shuddering with the impact. In the space of a blink, three more punches landed, right, right, left, the jarring force making the bag gyrate on the squeaky chain. He didn't seem satisfied, tension boiling up inside until he began to lash out with his feet.

Heavy, dull thuds filled the room as he took out his inner demons on a silent victim. Whipping around, he caught the canvass sack with a roundhouse kick, the force snapping the metal hook holding the huge sack above the floor. The bag hit the floor with a thunk six feet away but Geneviève wasn't looking at it. Her eyes were riveted to hard turquoise ones. Frozen in place, Ji held himself still, leg up and extended, foot pointed, elbows bent and tight against his body, chin tucked in.

Perfect. A machine bred and trained for combat. The epitome of the male sex. The aching joint of his knee didn't show. Neither did the sore muscles from the beating he'd taken or the deadly ride down the river from several days ago.

Alert and sharp, his gaze stayed on her as Geneviève timidly approached, nibbling on her bottom lip. His scent hung in the air. Distinctly male, a heavy, heady musk underlaid with nicotine and sweat. Unique to him.

As she came nearer, he smoothly lowered his foot, shifting his stance to a relaxed one. A guise. Her quick eyes picked out the way he was watching her from the corner of his eye, the stiffness in his hands and shoulders.

"I've never seen anyone do that before," she muttered to no one, not certain if he'd answer her. Ji's eyes hooded slightly as he began to fiddle with the tape on his hands.

"It's just a workout, Mouse. Anyone could do it, given the desire and training."

"I meant, with the big bag," dark eyes met his shyly before flicking away. "I've never seen anyone do that to one...before."

"Watched a lot of men work out, have you?" His grin was placating, but her gaze stayed on his face as she nodded. Ji paused, studying her features in earnest. "Where?"

"Non," turning away, Geneviève shook her head. "I will not tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because..." her gaunt features caught the shadows in the room, giving her a haunted appearance. "I am afraid."

Ji paused, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Fear lived behind everything she felt, said, or did. It made him unaccountably angry, although he wasn't necessarily upset with her. Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the bench press bar.

"Of what?"

"Dying."

"Everyone dies," he watched her expression shift. "Fear of death is normal."

"What about... how you die," wandering to the chin-up bar, her fingers lightly ran across the polished surface above her head. "Is fearing that normal too?"

"Sure,"

When she wrapped her hands over the high bar, he moved a little nearer, watching as she flexed unused and bruised muscles to test her strength.

"Is that what scares you, how you'll die?"

"Kind of," putting a little more effort into it, she struggled to get her feet off the ground, her arms burning from the unaccustomed task. Ji moved to her side, lightly putting his hands on her waist. With a soft count, he lifted her feet off the floor, helping just enough so she had to strain to touch her chin to the bar.

Instead of letting go, she hooked her arms over the metal rod, hanging there as he stayed at her side, looking up. A fixed, determined light was in her eyes, a firm pout to her soft lips as her bare feet wiggled a little.

"I'm... more afraid of... how he'll kill me. Or maybe... that he won't, and... I'd wish he had." For an instant, her eyes flicked to his. "You know?"

Lifting her down, Ji left his hands on her waist, looking down into a face that had seen more trauma and suffering than he cared to know about. But he didn't have to be told. They were two sides of the same coin, different versions of the same truth. Broken but somehow unable to die, forced to live with a past they didn't want, memories that wouldn't let them have peace.

Brushing strands of hair from her brow, his smile was faint but warm. The mottled purple around her eye was fading to bluish-green, and the crack in her lip had scabbed over.

"I know, Ginny."

Bravely holding his gaze, she took a deep breath.

"I... I am sorry about before, in the kitchen? I panicked."

"That's an interesting way to panic."

"No, I mean..." blushing turned her face cherry red, making her dark eyes shine as he grinned. "I was just trying to... survive."

"It's okay," an echo of the desire he'd felt with her legs wrapped around him stirred to life, the smallest simmer of heat tingling through his belly. Coldly, Ji killed it, refusing to get sucked back into such a powerful addiction. He wasn't sure he'd break free this time. "It's what we do."

"Do you really know how to use all these things?" Her chin indicated the training equipment. His nod was vague.

"Yeah. Sort of rudimentary for me, but it works."

Her lips formed the word, a soft light of puzzlement in her eyes as she thought it out.

"Does that mean...old?"

"It means basic," he swept his hand around the room. "I guess they never had much need to update their equipment. What use is training the body to fight when they just shoot whoever stands in their way?"

"And you don't?" Eyes innocent in the manner of such things stayed on him. Ji's grin was indulgent.

"I prefer to be ready on all fronts, Mouse. Which means I have to stay in shape." He nodded at the crumpled punching bag. "Want me to show you?"

Her smile was shy as she backed away, shaking her head.

"No...I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I don't mind."

"I guess so," reaching the doorway, she stepped through then paused, moving back. "Ji?"

"Yeah,"

"...thank you. For... everything."

He stared after her, heart pumping blood to every part of his body with relentless force, temples throbbing. Biting back some ridiculously graphic swear words, he strode to where the punching bag lay, hauling it upright. If he didn't get that idea out of his system, he'd have a coronary on the spot.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

"Are you sure?"

"My contacts are very reliable, Amado." Ikeno was standing in the doorway, watching him dress. "A woman matching the description you gave me was seen boarding a plane in Marseille bound for Argentina a week ago. I did a digital search of every video feed within a five-mile radius of the location. It was the woman you're looking for."

"Where is she now?"

"I haven't found any video of her disembarking at the bigger airports, and it will take a while to access and search the smaller landing strips and private runways, or if it's like you suspect...I might not find any footage at all. If she was kidnapped, there wouldn't be a paper trail for her as a passenger, so that would be a waste of time."

"That's it?"

"Amado," slightly chiding, Sousa smiled at him. "I have many talents. I said there wouldn't be a record of her as a passenger, but they would have to list her as something. Cargo would be the easiest way to cover human transport, so I can start there."

"Why do I feel like you're hiding something?"

"Because I haven't told you the other part." Coffee-brown eyes held his gaze. "The girl was not the only one seen boarding that flight."

A chill snaked across Rémy's scalp at Ikeno's tone. Blue eyes swung to Sousa as he finished tucking in his dress shirt, cinching his belt. Dark eyes followed the movement, stirring heat in his belly even as a hard knot formed in his chest.

"I don't like how you said that."

"She wasn't the only one they took. A big man was also there-"

"A big man?" Rémy scoffed, instantly relieved. "So the whore hired a muscle head bodyguard that didn't know his fist from a hole in the ground, so what?"

"It's more than that, Rémy."

"Why is it when I don't want you to, you call me Amado, but when I want you to, you insist on calling me Rémy?" His teasing got a faint smile instead of the full one he'd hoped for. Sliding a revolver into the waistband of his belt, he approached, taking Ikeno's hands. "What's wrong? Is this not what you imagined?"

"You are perfect." Soul-searching eyes lifted to his, warm, but worried. "What you are looking for, Rémy... I have a bad feeling about this."

"Let me take care of it, okay?" Sliding arms around a trim, supple waist, he drew Sousa against him. "All you have to do is find the whore. Give me the location, and I'll handle the rest. Easy. Done."

"Rémy-"

"Amado."

"I'm worried."

"Don't be. This will all be over soon, and I'll be headed back to Marseille with the whore. After that... I think I can talk my boss into a few weeks of vacation. Then we'll figure out what kind of thing we have going here. Okay?"

Leaning against his chest, Ikeno gave a faint nod, frowning. The description given by the contact was eerily familiar, but Sousa couldn't place it. Somewhere, sometime, that same man had stepped into Ikeno's life then out again, like a ghost. The thought came to run an identity check using the collected data, but Sousa had a nagging feeling that wouldn't work. The word circled round and round like a vulture.

Ghost.

Kobe, Japan

The soft ping of his intercom startled Tanabe from the third quarter report, and he touched the button lightly.

"Yes?"

"A Mr Alexander Danning to see you, sir."

"Danning?" A cold edge of alarm crept into his mind. "No, I do not know any Alexander Danning, and I am very busy with-"

"Sorry to interrupt." The door of his office burst open as an American stepped through. "I know I don't have an appointment, but we must speak."

"I'm sorry sir!" His secretary rushed in an instant later, aged eyes impatient, a strand of silvery hair coming loose from her bun. "I told him to wait!"

"The Hotel Caprice." Danning let the words drop and Tanabe stiffened, slowly pushing to his feet.

"It's all right. I will speak to him. See that we are not disturbed."

"Sir," puzzled but obedient, his long-time secretary backed out, closing the doors behind her. The two men faced each other.

"That was the first smart move you made, Tanabe."

"If you came to trade insults, you waste your time."

"Doing anything other than what Gabriel Darche told you to do is stupid. Do you have any idea what's a stake?"

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"That sounds good, but on paper, your story loses some appeal." Taking a folder from his inner jacket pocket, Danning tossed it on the desk between them. Slowly, Eizo reached for it, turning it so he could read the printed documents. Eyes widening in alarm he grabbed for the arm of his chair to sit down. It was a transcript of his conversation with the person hired to find Yua. Along with a paper trail of his recent activities connected to the endeavor. Danning's expression was cunning.

"Would you like to explain that to me?"

"How did you know?" Voice shaking, Tanabe looked up. "Who are you?"

"I work for the American government, Mr Eizo, and we have a vested interest in your daughter's associates. Your meddling is causing problems for the people I work for."

"Meddling?" Anger crackled behind Tanabe's dark eyes. "If you knew what happened to her, why did you do nothing?"

"First, she's not an American citizen. Second, it was deemed advantageous to have a linchpin in play right under Gabriel's nose."

"Linchpin?"

"You know, the little piece you pull and the whole thing falls?" Condescending, the agent grinned at his host, moving to sit uninvited in one of the chairs. "Did you know that you've been singlehandedly financing a global criminal organization for the last decade? It's impressive, Tanabe. Very impressive. Also extremely illegal. If word got out, you'd be under fire from your own government, with a line of others just waiting to take their pound of flesh from your company. Or you personally."

"It was not my choice! I did it to keep Yua alive!"

"A noble sentiment. You still made the deposits every quarter," Danning gestured at the folder. "Wired to an offshore account belonging to a dummy corporation which is actually owned by the shareholders of Axis Global. It adds up to billions."

"Axis Global?"

"The syndicate of which Gabriel Darche is a board member." Danning's grin was dark as he leaned back with a shrug. "Criminals have gone corporate. Why not? Treat it as a business, the profits outweigh the risk and occasional loss."

"Why are you telling me this, Mr Danning?"

"I am here to inform you to stop, desist, cease, quit, and do not pursue in any measure, your daughter's whereabouts. That avenue is closed, you understand?"