Page 88 of Dangerous Deceit

“Kids need the extra boost.” He shrugs. “Adults just know.”

Pain lodges in my throat like a crumpled newspaper, and I have to know. Ineedto know. And he’s avoiding the question.

“But do you still love me like a daughter, Uncle Jay?”

He runs a hand over the top of his gray and brown hair, looking at Kenzo through the balcony windows.

“Of course I do, Vi. I love you kids.”

You kids.That’s what he used to call Patrick and me. But now, it’s just me.

“Then how come you didn’t quit this job when they killed Patrick?” I ask.

He scowls, shooting bullets full of lead with his expression. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“What if they killed me? Would you do anything about it? Would you find out who did it? Would you?—”

“Vivy,” he says, cutting me off and using a nickname I haven’t heard in a long, long time. My neck and shoulders tighten. I swallow my anxiety. He continues: “You should understand the nature of our work by now. This is business.”

Business as usual, babe,Kenzo had said.If we’re done, I’ve got business to take care of.It’s just work for both of them. Death means nothing. Businessalwaysprevails.

Uncle Jay pats my shoulder. “We’ve been lucky so far, but when we took this job, we knew the risks.”

The truth is I told Uncle Jay and Patrick the risks. I told them I didn’t want anything to do with the yakuza, but they told me it was worth it. We could get our dream house on the beach. We could retire. We’d never have to worry again. They told me we’d finally have the stability, the freedom, the protection I always wanted, if I just gave them the chance to do this.

Maybe that was a lie to get me to play along.

“Did the client specifically say we might die?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“Come on, Vi,” Uncle Jay says. “When you mess with an organized crime group like the yakuza, things are going to get messy. Everyone knows that.”

Minutes pass, and the whole time, I gawk at him. Uncle Jay fidgets, uncomfortable in the silence. His scarred hand taps his legs; the truth of our situation is always simmering under the surface, no matter how well Uncle Jay plays it cool. Outside, Kenzo is on a phone call with someone, and his skin is gleaming with sweat. If I wasn’t so anxious, I’d be salivating. He looks like a god capable of destroying the world.

And soon, he’s going to destroy us.

“What if it were me?” I ask, the tears finally breaking loose and streaming down my cheeks. “Would you even care?”

“Patrick would do the same thing in our shoes,” Uncle Jay says, his nostrils flaring. The concern and sweetness is gone, replaced by malice. “You can’t let hypothetical situations hold you back. I thought I taught you that a long time ago.”

When my biological parents died, I often cried myself to sleep, saying it was my fault. I was the one who liked candles. I was the one who risked their lives to go on that dumb candle shopping trip. But Uncle Jay would stroke my hair and shush me.It’s okay to be sad, sweetheart, but you can’t do anything about it anymore,he had said.No amount of tears or what-ifs will bring them back. You’ve got to move on. Besides, we’re your family now.

“Patrick is dead,” I say.

It’s hard to breathe, but I force myself to stay strong. Patrick may have raped me when we were growing up, but I’m still responsible for his death.

No. No. No,I yell at myself.Patrick raped me. Kenzo killed him for that. I didn’t tell Kenzo to do anything. It’s not my fault.

But the tears don’t stop. I may not be responsible for Patrick’s death, but I am completely responsible for whatever comes next.

“I’ve gotta go,” Uncle Jay mutters. He fixes his shirt and stands up. “If I had known you wanted to grill me about Patrick,then I wouldn’t have come.” He angles toward the door. “Bottom line: Patrick is dead, and we’re alive. If we don’t make this job work, then his death meansnothing.And I refuse to let that happen.”

His eyes are cold, and at that moment, there’s nothing about him I recognize anymore. The man who protected me growing up, who saved me from my messed-up situation, sees me as an obstacle right now.

“They can kill us,” I say. “Both of us.”

“I know.”

“We’re too deep.”

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