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“Listen close,” Lorenzo Valdez mutters in Spanish to his lieutenant and younger brother, Gabriel. The doors of a swanky condo stand open for them, held by a doorman. “There are two things you gotta know about Boss Lynx alright?”
Gabriel gulps and nods. This is his first big gang meeting, his first time being trusted so much with the family business. He’s heard about Boss Ash Lynx, who hasn't? The wild and dangerous mountain lion, who crawled his way from the gutter to top mob boss in New York City at only 18, supported by Chinatown’s Yut-Lung and the Bronx’s Bloody Cain, watching from on high like some deadly untouchable god. He’s the stuff of legend. So of course he’s heard of Ash Lynx, But Lorenzo’s never laid out the rules for him like this before.
They step out of the relentless summer heat and into the air conditioned lobby, where a couple of gunmen wait at the elevator doors. They radio up, then place their arms out, beckoning them inside. “First of all, keep your fucking head down. Tensions get fucking high in there. We’re new blood in the city. We still need to carve our place. Don’t go saying anything fucking dumb, you hear me? No matter how he tries to bait you.”
Gabriel makes a small mumble of dissent. “We gonna let some skinny white puta boss us around—?”
“Shut your fucking mouth I said,” Lorenzo hisses back. “Boss Lynx gives and he takes away on a whim. He can wage war on us as easy as make peace and grant demands. When our men are being gunned down in the street at every fucking corner, can’t even sell a dime or pimp a hoe without the other gangs breathing down our necks, do you want to explain that it’s because you couldn’t do what I fucking ask for once and keep your fucking mouth shut?”
“No.” Gabriel mumbles. He looks at his reflection in the gleaming elevator mirrors. He’s wearing his smartest suit. He polished his shoes. All for this, to make an impression in front of the other leaders, in front of Ash Lynx. To be taken seriously. He wishes for a second Lorenzo had picked their younger brother Miguel to accompany him instead.
Lorenzo sighs, tips his head back, and seems to wish the same thing. “Why can’t you have Miguel’s level head, huh? Mama taught you nothing?”
The elevator dings at the top floor. Two more gunmen greet them. They pat them down for weapons, indicate the all clear, and send them inside.
Gabriel doesn't know what he was expecting. A movie villain’s lair maybe. He’s so mythical, so incomprehensible, he expects Boss Lynx to sit in a big chair facing a window and spin around to reveal the cat in his lap. Maybe he’d have a metal hand. And a monocle. Really scary villains always seem to have monocles. He doesn't expect a cozy suite. There are throw pillows on the sofas, knitted afghans tossed over the arms, it has more in common with his Abuela’s ancient bungalow than a mob boss’s million dollar penthouse retreat. The apartment smells like cooking rice and the good liquor the other bosses present have already broken into. Ash Lynx himself is lounging casually in a big squishy green armchair like a languorous cat, looking for all the world like he invited New York’s criminal underworld over for a housewarming party.
He’s beautiful. GQ model beautiful, lean and golden and refined. Gabriel’s not a poetic guy. That's firmly Miguel’s sphere. But there's something about Ash Lynx that Gabriel can’t put his finger on. Something arresting. Cool green eyes land on him, look him up and down and flit away. Gabriel feels suddenly he’s been beheld by the devil and found wanting.
“Pussying out now?” Lorenzo snorts. “After all that big talk?” He shrugs off his coat to hand to a doorman.
“No,” Gabriel pouts and stiffly follows suit.
“Then stand up straight. Mama may not have raised you with any goddamn sense but at least she raised you with pride right?” Lorenzo smirks and jostles his shoulder.
Gabriel sucks in a breath and stands straight. “Right.”
They wander over to the living room, take offered glasses of champagne. Yut-Lung is there, every bit as beautiful as Ash Lynx. His long silk black hair is pinned in elaborate loops but still flows down his back like a river at night, his narrow dark eyes lure onlookers in. He imagines Miguel would compare them to gemstones, as different as black and white. But Gabriel hasn't got Miguel’s words. It's just overwhelming to see the two of them in one room.
Lorenzo begins mingling. Gabriel stays by his elbow, barely listening. He can't help but keep glancing at Yut-Lung and Ash Lynx both, though they aren't at all interested in talking to anyone.
“Thanks for coming, everyone.” There's no preamble, but Ash’s voice cuts through the din of conversation like a knife, silencing everyone. It's intimidating to be in the face of all that power. “I’ve been told difficult discussions are best had with full bellies. Follow me to the dining room for lunch.”
“No Eiji today, Ash?” Yut-Lung asks cooly, swirling his golden champagne in its crystal flute idly. The temperature of the room seems to plummet, as though Yut-Lung asked if Lynx intended to poison them, or gun them all down. Who the fuck is Eiji?
Ash Lynx just sweeps Yut-Lung with that cool green gaze and shrugs, gesturing at his guests to follow him down a short passageway. “He’ll be joining us shortly.” The dining room looks more like a conference room, with an extremely long table, but each place is elegantly set, and there are bunches of white flowers Gabriel doesn't know the name of in low square vases, like something out of a home decor magazine.
Yut-Lung sniffs haughtily, but takes his place to Ash Lynx’s left. Everyone files around to their places. Gabriel and Lorenzo consciously sit away from the Puerto Ricans, with whom they have ongoing beef. But the chair to Ash’s right remains empty. They don't wait long before an entourage of servants sweep in from the kitchen to lay plates over the shoulder of each guest. The food must be five star quality, it smells delicious, and Gabriel would be fairly drooling if Lorenzo didn't kick him in the shin. He glares at his brother, but his gaze is caught by the servant who brings in Ash Lynx’s meal.
Or perhaps not a servant? He’s plain, for lack of a better word. As baby faced as an uncooked dumpling. He smiles warmly as he sets down two plates, one before Ash, a simple heap of rice and curry shrimp, nothing at all like the decadent meal before everyone else, and the other regular plate in front of the empty place to Ash’s right. “Sorry for the delay,” he says quietly, fingers trailing lingeringly over Ash’s shoulder.
Ash just shakes his blonde head. “No. You were right on time. This looks delicious.”
The plain Asian boy pulls back the chair and settles in it casually, opening a napkin to lay over his lap. He laughs softly, “I don't know why you can't just eat what the chefs make. It's good.”
Ash just shrugs and picks up a spoon, shoveling rice and shrimp into his mouth, as ill mannered as a child. Everyone else starts to cut into their food as well, as though nothing else is going on. Gabriel can’t stop staring. “Doesn't taste as good as yours.”
“You shouldn't be so picky. What’ll you do if I'm away on a long trip?” The boy pouts.
“I’ll starve obviously.” Ash smirks as he accepts his companion’s scolding and nagging.
“That’s Eiji.” Lorenzo whispers, as though that clears everything up for him. Gabriel shuts his eyes and opens them again. But that gentle, playful smile is still on Ash Lynx’s mouth. He’s arguably the most powerful man in New York, aiming that adoring expression at a soft weak little nobody who looks like he’s never even seen a rated R film, never mind frequently dined in the company of assassins and drug lords and prostitution ring leaders. He feels suddenly like he should look away, like he shouldn't be seeing any of this. But his eyes are fixed as Eiji reaches over to wipe Ash’s mouth, their gazes so soft, so affectionate. Nothing at all like the green eyed devil that sized him up when he first came in.
“Keep your eyes in your fucking head and eat your food.” Lorenzo reminds with another pointed kick.
And he wants to, but he can't. Eiji barely even sits in his chair, leaning on the edge of his seat and scooted as close to Ash as the table will allow. They gravitate towards each other like stars. Ash Lynx looks… What's the word Miguel would use? Besotted. Eiji, with his warm smile, warm eyes, soft little hands resting on Ash’s wrist, is his sun, moon, stars. His gravity, his air, his reason to trudge through each meaningless day. Frankly, it makes Gabriel uncomfortable because it's so intense. Like a blackhole it seems to suck up everything else, until they seem to be living in a world with just the two of them. As though they were at a romantic candle lit dinner for two instead of a mob boss meeting.
Then, Gabriel wonders as he finally takes a bite of his food and chews, isn't this dangerous? Every man and woman sitting here could just as easily be a friend as a foe. Every person in here is waiting for Boss Ash Lynx to show the chink in his armour, to slip up some day so the next big bad can knock him over and become the new king of the hill. Surely Eiji, unscarred, naive looking, is a detriment? Surely it's foolish to flash this precious thing, this canary in a gilded cage, before a room full of cats, just daring someone to take a swipe.
As though he said it out loud, the mood shifts. It goes in slow motion: first, Ash Lynx’s eyes snap from Eiji to glare down the table, gemstone hard. Next, someone at Gabriel’s left elbow, a cartel lieutenant, he thinks, stands and takes three shots, first at Eiji and then at Ash himself. But like the cat he’s named for, Ash has already shoved Eiji out of the way, bullets clipping his expensive suit. And finally, because no, Gabriel doesn't have Miguel’s level head, or Lorenzo’s cold logic, or even the common goddamn sense his mama tried to give him, Gabriel lurches to the side and tackles the lieutenant down, shoving his wrist up and slamming it against the floor until he lets the gun go. The lieutenant struggles and curses Ash with every wheezing breath, even with Gabriel sitting firmly on his chest, knee digging into his sternum.
Gabriel feels the air shift at his back, so cold and cruel it's like shards of ice. He looks behind him. Ash Lynx stands over him, murder in his eyes, revolver in his hand, and Gabriel nearly says an ave maria right then and there. “Move.” He hisses. Gabriel doesn't hesitate, and when he scrambles clear, right into Lorenzo’s grasp, Boss Lynx puts a bullet between the man’s eyes between one heart beat and the next. Gabriel sees Eiji standing just behind Ash now, gaze both worried and determined, fist curled in the back of Ash’s coat like a child. He looks both younger and older than Gabriel first took him for.
The three other cartel members are kneeling at Ash’s feet in useless supplication, sinners before an unforgiving god. “We didn't know!” the second lieutenant pleads. “We don't want a war, this isn't what our family—“
“Shut up.” Ash snaps, cold and cruel as the north wind. He wraps one arm around Eiji’s waist, but his eyes are empty, beyond reason. Just a beast thirsting for violence. Claws out, fangs bared. If Gabriel were on the end of that look, he’s almost sure he would piss himself. Everyone else is standing clear, far enough away that they won’t be associated, muttering about security breaches and inter gang intrigues. Yut-Lung, Gabriel notices belatedly, watches intently, pointed chin propped in his delicate fingers.
“Ash,” Eiji says softly, laying his small, soft palm on Ash’s shoulder. It's only a touch but it may as well be a leash. “I’m okay,” too quiet for anyone else to hear, except that Gabriel is literally sitting at Ash Lynx’s feet beside a cooling corpse. “No one actually touched me. I’m okay.” Ash reigns himself in, and when he considers the traitors again, his gaze is cool and unaffected once more.
“What should I do with you?” He drawls, tapping the muzzle of his gun against his thigh. “What do you think, Eiji. Should I kill them? They said they had nothing to do with this plot, but why should I believe them? Maybe I should make a fucking example of them, send their fucking heads to their mothers, huh?” He smiles, the grin of a cat that's caught its quarry. “How should I know this piece of shit wasn’t acting on fucking orders?”
The men shake at Ash’s feet. Gabriel doesn't move for fear of drawing his attention. Eiji, meanwhile, just loops his arms around Ash’s shoulders. If this were a movie, Eiji would be the damsel, the bond girl, the kept woman. He rests his forehead against Ash’s shoulder. “You don’t need to kill them.” He says. This is loud enough for everyone to hear. All the other guests hold their breath, waiting for Eiji to lay judgment on these men. “I’m sure sending them home with a very clear message would be good enough.”
Ash stops tapping his gun against his thigh. He snorts softly in amusement and drops a kiss to the top of Eiji’s fluffy black haired head. Gabriel thinks he hears him chuckle, “what baby wants, baby gets.” He holsters his gun and turns away. “Get the fuck outta my sight.” They scamper out of the suite like rats.
Finally out from beneath Ash Lynx’s piercing glare, Gabriel stands and brushes himself off. His fingers are shaking, but he can't quite divine why.
“You don’t know how to keep your fucking nose out of anything huh?” Lorenzo near snarls, cuffing him upside the head none too gently. “Ash could have handled that. His men could have handled that. Who the fuck do you think you are? James Bond?”
“You know I don’t always think—“
“Lord almighty above and satan below, yes, I know—“
Their quick Spanish argument is cut off when Eiji pauses, glances over his shoulder and turns back to them. Ash Lynx remains a couple steps behind him, calculating green eyes sweeping them for potential threats, hands stuffed in his pockets. Eiji is his precise opposite, still as soft, sweet and uncooked as a dumpling, as though there wasn’t just an attempt on his life. “Ash is too proud to say anything, but thank you for getting involved. You didn't have to, and so it means a lot to both of us.”
“Ah?” Gabriel stutters, unsure how he should address the beloved of New York’s big boss. “Uh? Yeah? No problem, you know?” Lorenzo kicks him again.
Eiji just smiles warm as the sun. “And be more careful of yourself next time too.” He steps back to Ash, and it's hard not to notice the possessive, protective wrap of his arm around Eiji’s shoulders.
“So I dunno about the rest of you but that ruined my fucking appetite. Let’s try this again next week, shall we?” Ash says to the room at large. He turns to Lorenzo and Gabriel specifically and nods towards the head of the table. “You two can sit up there next time.” From the way Lorenzo grins his handsomest smile, the broad one with white teeth and dimples in his chin and left cheek, this is as close to thank you as Boss Ash Lynx is ever going to get. But it's a step.
They file out with the rest of the guests, gather up their coats. Gabriel feels a strange numbness, even though Lorenzo is vibrating with joy at this upcoming opportunity.
There are two things to know about Ash Lynx, Gabriel realizes on the elevator ride down to the ground floor. He looks in the mirror and spies speckles of blood on his face, brushing them away slowly but only managing to streak them. Lorenzo sighs, flips out a handkerchief, and sets about wiping his face, like he is eight and covered in ice cream again.
There are two things to know about Ash Lynx.
First: his justice is swift and exact, like all tolls paid in the wild.
Second: never fuck with Eiji.