Page 25 of Dangerous Deceit

But I can’t fight the worry that we’re way out of our league.

“Sorry,” I say, stiffening. “A little nervous, I guess.”

“Don’t forget: you’re doing this forus,sweetheart,” Uncle Jay says. “We had no other choice.”

My stomach drops, my mind jumping back to watching Kenzo shoot the man in the motel room. He held me like he owned me, yet he still reminded me repeatedly that Idohave a choice.

You don’t have to pay for your uncle’s debts,he had said.

A part of me wonders if this job has nothing to do with our dream house or retirement. Knowing Uncle Jay, he’s got too much energy to give up conning completely, especially if he gets a taste of real money, like he keeps saying we’ll get as soon as we finish this job.

But I wave the thought away. We’re so close; there’s no reason for Uncle Jay to lie.

And Kenzo is right. I do have a choice, and I choose to be here. I have to accept everything that’s given to me so I can finish the job for my family.

Then, like a powerful, ancient demon, Kenzo wraps his arms around me from behind, and his touch is suffocating and purposeful, like he knows exactly how to assert his dominance over me. I instantly flush.

“The reception is in the promenade,” he says, scrutinizing me as I turn to look at him. “You eat fish, right?”

CHAPTER 14

KENZO

The garden promenadeswims in greenery. You’d never guess anoyabunof a major yakuza designed a place this beautiful and peaceful, but that’s our boss for you. The bright red leaves of Japanese maples line the edges, interspersed with dense zelkova trees. Peace lilies and azaleas spread throughout the space, showing off their bright textures. Art galleries, artisan cocktail bars, and boutique shops border the garden, but today, it’s cleared out for us.

I take my wife’s hand and scan the room. The tables are bundled in elegant cloths, and big sashes are tied around the chairs. Everyone mingles, and my wife stands by my side.

Tomo approaches us, bowing his head slightly. I return the gesture, making sure my bow is deeper than his. Then, with a firm grip, we shake hands again. He’s gritting his teeth, holding his emotions in, but a smile rips through his face, and he pulls me in for the seventh hug so far today.

“My kid got married,” he says again. Tears blur his eyes as he pats my shoulder. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the first, Kenzo?”

I chuckle. “Come on,Oyaji.Have faith!” He laughs heartily when I call him by the nickname, Pops.

“But it’s you, Kenzo!” he shouts. “My wild child. And how are you treating your beautiful bride?”

Tomo faces my wife. She lowers her eyes, flinching away from an authority figure, but I’ve had an eye on her all day, and she likes to stare. No—it’s not that. Shestudies.Watches people like they’re part of an experiment. Lowering her eyes is a way of pretending to be a demure virgin, but I don’t buy it.

“You all right, Vivian?” Tomo asks. Apparently, he doesn’t buy it either.

She bows her head, keeping her eyes on the ground. Tomo and I exchange looks. He lifts his shoulders.

“Guests of honor,” he says, nodding towards the head table. “You belong there. Let’s celebrate!”

A variety of Japanese cuisine and other treats are served. I grab the tuna sashimi and get my wife a tray of mixed rolls. “Come Sail Away”by Styx plays faintly on the speakers, and even for a last-minute wedding, it’s perfect. The guests chatter with me, always talking business, but when they realize Tomo is here and willing to talk for once, they lose interest in me and find him. I’m fine with that.

Vi eats a California roll, giving a practiced smile as she scans the room.Again.What is she after? Is she working for her uncle, her cousin, or herself?

But now isn’t the time to pry. I’ll save that for later, when she’s more…preoccupied.

Niko, ourwakagashira,comes by.As the underboss, he makes sure things run according to Tomo’s plans, though he sometimes gets the end results in unexpected—orundesirable—ways. He’s tall with broad shoulders, crew-cut hair, and black eyes with patches of blue, a rarity prevalent in Northern Japan. He immigrated with Tomo to the United States when he wasseven years old. But unlike Dice and me, Niko refuses to get the traditionalirezumitattoos, claiming it’s old-fashioned for the yakuza.

I overheard Tomo once say he slept with a sex worker from Aomori and out came Niko, but I never asked for details. My guess is Tomo doesn’t even know if Niko is actually his biological kid.

“Kanpai,” Niko says, bringing me a glass of whisky. I take it, and we clink our glasses together. Niko can be an argumentative asshole, so I take the pleasantries when I can get them.

“Cheers, brother!” I say.

And just like that, he disappears again. Vi taps my arm.

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