Page 62 of Dangerous Deceit

“You don’t need to know the ins and outs of our smuggling,” he grins. “Just know this is a big deal for us. Weneedthis to work.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and I connect the dots; if they’re switching from smuggling to a legitimate deal, then that means they’re probably going to make better money overall.Ifthe deal goes through.

This is the kind of information our client wants. Golden Honor Firearms.That’swhat they’re after.

My stomach pains as I think about telling Uncle Jay. I don’t want to, but I should.

But I can put it off for now.

“I get it,” I say. Then I change the subject: “What are you cooking?”

Kenzo grabs a ladle and dumps out two large scoops of soup into a bowl, then brings it to me with a deep spoon. Miso pasteundulates in the broth like lava in a lamp, tofu chunks float, and seaweed sinks to the bottom of the bowl.

“Truth is, I can’t cook for shit,” Kenzo says. “But I can dump packets into a pot of water.” He crooks his head to the side. “My mom used to make this for me when I was sick. Homemade though—not this packet bullshit. Still, I make this instant soup whenever I need to feel like myself again.”

My chest dips as I think of my own mom. Is Kenzo’s mom still alive? Does he visit her? And why doesn’t he feel like himself? How could he run away from home, yet still crave the comfort of his biological family?

My mind jumps to Uncle Jay and Patrick.

Patrick.

Images flash before me: blood on Kenzo’s cheeks, smeared across his forehead, his stained gloves. I need to hear him say it. To confirm my suspicions.

Sweat covers my palms. “Why were you covered in blood last night?”

He snickers, scooping himself a bowl too. He slides into the seat across from me and slurps up a spoonful.

“It was a drop of blood, not a gallon,” he says.

“There wasn’t a scratch on you,” I say. “So what happened? Whose blood was that?”

“Why are you so concerned?”

“I’m curious.”

“Does that mean you actually like me?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He carries on in silence for a few minutes, and I’m almost about to take the teasing remark back. The truth is I dolikehim, even if it’s wrong. It may be the fact I’ve never spent this much time with a guy that wasn’t Uncle Jay or Patrick, or it may be because Kenzo makes me feel wanted. Needed.Safe.

“I was taking care of business,” he says.

My gut twists. He did something he doesn’t want to tell me, and since he refuses to lie, he’s avoiding the question.

“Kenzo,” I say sternly. “Tell me.”

His jaw is set. “Patrick won’t bother you again.”

Every blood vessel inside of me constricts, pain pulsing through my skull. Patrick won’t bother me? That means?—

“You killed him!” I gasp. “Why? How could you?”

Kenzo waves a hand, dismissing my question. “Everyone dies. What does it matter if I cut his life short?”

My mind spins as I stare down at my bowl. Uncle Jay is going to be crushed. What am I going to do? What am I going to tell him?

This is my fault.I shouldn’t have said anything about what happened with my virginity. It was in the past. I had said Patrick could do it. Everything was fine. And I screwed it all up.

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