Page 8 of Dangerous Deceit

The answers don’t matter, and apparently neither do my concerns when it comes to datingandmarrying a member of an organized crime group.

I bite my nails, and Uncle Jay turns on the television. A commercial about lip injections fills the room. Patrick scrubs thebristles of his toothbrush across his teeth, and Uncle Jay sinks into the pillows. His hand is thickly bandaged, it’s like he’s part mummy. Uncle Jay purposefully put his arm around the yakuzakanbu’swife, knowing it would get him closer to the big boss. But getting a permanent scar for somethingsmallis one giant red flag, and yet, we’restillpursuing this job.

“This is for our foreign client, right? Are they Japanese too?” I ask. I’m running on a hunch; for safety reasons, Uncle Jay is the only one who has spoken with this client. He grunts, dismissing my concerns, so I ask a different question. “How much are we getting for this again?”

“Enough to get your dream house,” Uncle Jay says.

Dream house.That seems… fast.

“On the beach?” I check.

Patrick spits out his toothpaste. A dribble of foamy liquid drips down his chin.

“You’re eyeing the one in Santa Monica, right?” he asks, our eyes locking in the mirror. “Let’s just say we can buy the neighbor’s house too.”

I rub my forehead. I’m not a virgin, nor am I a con artist, but this is our biggest job yet. Why can’t the yakuza man like men? Patrick is so much better at this. A sack of potatoes can lie better than I can.

“And what if I don’t pass?” I ask, crossing my arms. I gesture at Uncle Jay. “What happens to you?”

He holds up his bandaged hand. “They made their mark,” he says. “We’re even.”

He gets up slowly, then comes and sits on the edge of the bed with me. In the bathroom, Patrick picks through his hair, his blond curls perfectly arranged. Uncle Jay puts an arm around me.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” he says quietly. “I tried to offer Patrick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “But we need this, Vi. This is going to change everything. And besides.” He sinks down. “I know you can do this. You only have to pretend to be a virgin until you do the deed. You can do ittonightif you want.” His blue eyes peer into mine, and there’s no way I can tell him “no.” Not after everything he’s done for me. “Youcando this. Weneedyou to do this, sweetheart. For our family. Forus.”

He puts his bandaged hand on my shoulder. A shot of hatred spikes through me. It’s not like Uncle Jayhurtthe yakuza wife. He only put his arm around her, like he’s doing to me right now!

“But who the hell cuts their name into your skin as punishment?” I snap.

Uncle Jay chuckles. “Your future husband helped with the last part.”

I want to scream, but I force myself to look off to the side. It makes me hate my potential husband already, and I don’t even know his name.

Usually, we stay in nicer places—due to the courtesy of Uncle Jay and Patrick’s most recent “friend,” someone I’ve researched so we know exactly who we’re dealing with—but now, we’re pretending to be poor and broke. The carpet is stained with black spots, and the purple damask wallpaper is peeling behind the television. Even this motel seems like a trap.

And it’s not like the yakuza has a social media profile I can research. The biggest yakuza in Japan apparently distributes a magazine to its members, but it’s in Japanese, and that’s not what we’re dealing with here in Vegas. This is the Endo-kai mafia, rumored to own Samurai Castle Resort & CasinoandSamurai Corporation. But that’s all I can find. They keep their image clean. As if theyknowpeople like us are going to be digging into their lives. It makes me uneasy.

“I’m terrible at lying,” I mumble.

“Soon, you won’t have to,” Uncle Jay says.

“But what if he figures it out?”

Uncle Jay tilts his head. “Think about your dream house. We’ll buy the whole beach if you want.”

I rub behind my ear. My candle tattoo is there, one of the only things I’ve ever gotten for myself.

Beach House,my mom had said, reading the scent name of the turquoise jar candle.That fits. It smells like summer.

I told Uncle Jay I wanted the tattoo because I love candles so much, but honestly, it’s for my parents. It always reminds me of them. Of stability and safety.

And if a beach house gets me closer to their memory, then why not aim for paradise?

“And then we can retire?” I ask.

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