Page 14 of K-Pop Double Life

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes.” I turned my face into his hair, breathing in the scent of hotel shampoo and something underneath that was just him. “This is perfect.”

He was asleep within minutes, his breathing evening out, his weight warm and solid against my side. I stayed awake longer, staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened in the last six hours.

We’d almost died. Jin had kissed me. The world had turned upside down and somehow landed right-side up.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it carefully, trying not to wake Jin.

A text from Sun-hee-noona: The other members are asking about Jin. I told them he’s sleeping and you’re with him. They’re relieved. Get some rest, Sang-hoon. Tomorrow will be difficult.

I typed back: Thank you, Noona. For everything.

Her response came immediately: I’ve been waiting forever for you two to stop being idiots. Don’t waste any more time.

6

BACK ON DUTY

AIDAN — CANNES

Liam and I weren’t supposed to take another job that week. The Pryzm concert was the kind of gig you wrap up with a handshake and a receipt. A single day of crowd control for the venue where the concert was held, working under the Agence de Sécurité, which employed us as freelance contractors and provided our working papers.

Our boss would be sure to get on the Starhouse contract first thing in the morning. But if there were any glitches we wouldn’t leave Nice.

Our drive home was a blur of highway lights and exhaustion. The little house in Banneret-les-Vaux sat quiet, tucked into a vineyard slope that smelled of lavender and diesel.

Liam yawned as he unlocked the front door. “How long do we have?”

“Long enough for a good night’s sleep,” I said. “As long as we can pack efficiently.”

He gave a grunt that could’ve meant fine or I hate you.

Our little lion-faced dog, Hayam, greeted us with the kind of performance that pretended we had been gone forever, instead of a single day. Liam picked her up, kissed her snout, and carried her to the back door where he let her out into the yard to do her business.

I prepared her dinner, let her in, and then we fell into routine, the practiced, wordless rhythm of preparation.

I began with a pair of tailored jackets that could pass for high-end security or dinner wear depending on the lighting. Liam was taller than I was, so I had to pack slacks for him. We were the same waist size, so we shared shorts. We normally wore Agence polo shirts when we worked, but for this project we’d be better off blending in with the crowd, so I packed a mix of polos and button-downs.

I liked boxers; Liam wanted his boys contained, so he wore jockstraps. That was fine with me; I liked few things more than seeing him clad only in a white pouch, which I liked to take off with my teeth.

Our Glocks were locked in our gun safe; France had rules, and even if we traveled by private plane, we probably couldn’t bring guns with us without a lot of paperwork. But I slid my personal multi-tool and a pair of miniature flashlights into the go bag.

Liam handled the electronics. On the kitchen table, he lined up devices like a surgeon prepping instruments. Laptops for comms and analysis, our satellite phone, our drone camera with infrared. Added to that was a compact jammer for hotel-level interference, and a set of chargers, cables, battery packs, labeled and coiled.

He plugged everything in, the faint red glow of charging LEDs painting the walls.

We’d done this dozens of times, one job blending into another, new faces, new crises. We had protected young lovers and older men desperate for second chances. Families on the run, a girl caught in the midst of a revolution. But as always, I was captivated by the people in danger and how they reacted, including the stylist desperate to save the man he loved.

An hour later, we were ready to get some sleep. Hayam went out for one last run, and when she came back in I stripped down and slid into bed while Liam was in the bathroom. When he came out, he was naked, his toned, muscular body on full display.

“I saw the way you looked at those guys,” he said. “You know they’re packaged that way, to look like sex on wheels. You interested in someone younger? Slimmer?” He put his fists on his waist in a way that showed off his biceps.

“I’m allowed to look,” I said. I pulled back the covers to reveal my erection. “And right now I like what I’m looking at.”

“Only like?”

“I long for your touch, husband,” I said, with a smile. “For those broad hands of yours on my body. For your big dick in me.”