Page 4 of Her Fearless Ronin

Finally, he lowered his cup and spoke in a calm yet slightly amused tone. “I said, tell me everything from the beginning.”

“Oh yes,” I let out an uncomfortable smile. “I… I’m not even sure where to start.” I hesitated, my fingers unconsciously tracing the faded scar on my arm, a bitter reminder of one of the many misfortunes from the pastdecade that had started with the heart-wrenching loss of Anna, but I didn’t want to burden him with all that. He had enough guilt over his head, and I noticed how deeply anchored it still was as I saw him hunched over my sister’s grave.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “What’s got you so concerned about Leo?”

Ah, Leo, yes.

“I… for the past few years, he’s been running with a dodgy crowd.” I winced; it was quite a ride to hell, to be more accurate.

“I didn’t expect that,” Jiro replied calmly. “As I remember him, he was a star baseball player making varsity in his first year of college.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that was before.”

Jiro’s eyes flashed with pain as his body tensed as if the mere reminder of my sister’s death caused him a physical blow.

He looked down at his black coffee cup, tapping his finger on the rim. “That was before I came in and destroyed all of your lives.”

I sighed, leaning back on my chair. “It would be easy to blame it all on you, and I think Leo used you as an excuse, but—” I waved my hand dismissively. “There’s no real excuse. He wanted revenge, he wanted quick money, he wanted…”He wanted to die. I added to myself. “I think he enjoyed that life, to be honest. It was easy money, easy everything, but he always came home. Always.”

“And suddenly he didn’t?”

As I shook my head, I felt the sting of tears welling up inmy eyes, threatening to spill over. Leo and I had never truly been close. The vast age difference and the self-destructive patterns that consumed him had created an insurmountable barrier between us. Grief didn’t bring us closer together; it tore us apart… all of us.

“He’s been a little more erratic these past few weeks. Worried, fidgety, but I thought it was just the money again.” It was always the money. “And then a week ago, he left for work and never came back.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Would you?” I countered, my tone laced with a hint of challenge.

A half smile appeared on his face. “Touché, but your brother is not an executioner for the yakuza. He’s a thirtysomething white boy who made poor life decisions.”

As his words settled within me, a shiver ran down my spine, sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins. It wasn’t fear that gripped me, as it should have for any rational person faced with such casual revelation. Instead, it was a twisted thrill, a strange sense of exhilaration at sitting with such a dangerous man doing something as boringly mundane as having a coffee at the local coffee shop.

Maybe, I thought to myself, I, too, possessed that reckless gene that seemed to be present in my family.

“The thing is,” I began, glancing cautiously around the café to ensure our conversation remained private. We were sitting at a table far enough at the back to be out of earshot, and it dawned on me that Jiro had likely selected it for precisely that reason. “These people we’re dealing with,” I continued, my voice hushed but filled with a senseof urgency, “they’re dangerous. If I were to call the police, I fear that…” My words trailed off, the weight of unspoken implications hanging heavily in the air. I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize the potential danger I would put not only myself but also my sick mother in should they find out I talked to the authorities.

A wave of discomfort washed over me, accompanied by the lingering question of whether Jiro viewed me as a coward for prioritizing the safety of my family. Did he see me as someone who would cower in fear? The weight of that uncertainty gnawed at me, adding to the mounting pressures of the situation.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, I was startled when Jiro’s warm hand gently rested on top of mine. The touch sent a surge of electricity through my arm, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I couldn’t deny the effect it had on me, even as I tried to maintain a composed exterior. How could such a simple, innocent gesture stir up such intense emotions within me? I reminded myself that I was not a naive ten-year-old girl harboring a crush on her sister’s silent boyfriend. I was a twenty-two-year-old woman worried about her brother’s safety.

I looked up, meeting his dark eyes full of understanding.

“You’re right,” he agreed, nodding in acknowledgment. “Involving the police at this stage would only escalate the situation and put us at further risk.” Jiro’s hand gently squeezed mine before releasing it, leaving behind a lingering warmth that continued to tingle on my skin. His next words carried a weight of determination and grim reality. “I will help you find him or, at the very least, uncover the answers youseek,” he said, his voice filled with a somber resolve. The unspoken truth hung heavy between us—there was no guarantee that Leo was still alive. The thought sent a pang of sorrow through my heart, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not yet.

Gratitude welled up inside me, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jiro. Thank you so much!”

He shrugged as if his offer was a given. “It’s the least I can do after… everything,” he said, his tone tinged with a hint of regret.

I opened my mouth to object, to assure him that none of this was his fault, that he didn’t owe us anything. But he spoke before I could utter a word, effectively silencing any potential argument from me.

“Do you have any idea who your brother was working with?” Jiro inquired, his gaze steadily fixed on me.

I paused, gathering my thoughts. “I have some leads,” I confessed, my voice tinged with determination and uncertainty. “Leo was secretive about his dealings, but I saw him with a couple of guys from the Mexican cartel, and one of them sometimes came to my work, trying to pick me up.” I rolled my eyes mockingly but sobered up at the murderous scowl on Jiro’s face.

“Do not get involved with them,” he stated with a harshness that caught me off guard.

My brows furrowed in response, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of indignation. Regardless of any lingering childhood crush, I wasn’t about to tolerate being spoken to in such a commanding tone.

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