Page 53 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?

I sigh, clearing my head of thoughts about pinning him against one of the containers so I can pillage his mouth. “Like what?”

“Like… I’m the most exquisite chocolate cake you’ve ever seen, and you can’t wait to stuff your face with it.”

I cross my arms, drumming my fingers across my elbow. “That’s not very far off, actually.” I tilt my head to the side, letting my eyes travel down his form. He looks very delectable in his suit. “I do hope I get to stuff my mouth with your cock tonight.”

He groans, a tinge of red spreading over his cheeks. “Fuck. It’s so hot when you say stuff like this with a straight face.”

He did seem to have a penchant for dirty talking. I’ve never really thought about it, but if it makes him squirm and flush, then perhaps I could give it a try.

Before I can stir things in a direction that will leave us both annoyingly hard, the four men return with a USB stick.

“Mr. Akiyama, here’s the surveillance. The police guy said that the camera at the storage facility across the road was busted, but he has video from the ones at the intersection near the main road. He’s had a look and said he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”

There probably isn’t, but I’d still like to see for myself.

I wave at the man to give the USB to Leo, who tucks it in his wallet, which then goes back inside his pocket. For the next few hours, I go through the inventory, cross-checking what’s missing. It’s a lot more than I suspected, as all the untouched containers are empty.

As I finish reading through the manifests, I realize why my father insisted I come myself. Half of the guns from this shipment were going to be sold, while the other half weren’t contraband. They were for arming the security at the conference in Bangkok.

“Chai, what’s wrong?” Leo asks, pushing off the foldable chair one of the men gave him. He’s been observing me for the past thirty minutes.

I swivel in the creaky office chair. “Half of the guns were for the conference in Bangkok.”

He knits his eyebrows together. “That’s strangely suspicious.”

It is. The timing too, considering they were meant to ship out in two days because of the change in the schedule. The problem is that I have no real evidence suggesting this is anything more than an unlucky robbery. Not yet.

Sighing, I lean in the chair and stare at the peeling ceiling. My headache has gone from bad to worse and my brain feels like it’s being squeezed. “What time is it?”

Fabric rustles as Leo takes out his phone. “Just past three.”

So we’ve been here for five hours. I sigh again, wincing at a bolt of sharp pain. Leo’s expression turns concerned.

“You need a break,” he announces in a voice that’s commanding and leaves no room for arguing.

I do need one. And he probably does, too.

I lock the tablet and stand up. My head spins a little, making me sway. Leo rushes to my side, grasping my arm and steadying me.

He shoves his bottle of water to me. “Drink. Your blood pressure must’ve dropped. You probably need something to eat, too,” he says, watching me pop the cap.

I take a big gulp, then stare at him, slow on the uptake. “How do you know I have blood pressure issues?”

“I asked Aran while we were at the shooting range.” He flashes me a shy smile and taps his phone. “He gave me a whole list.”

“How very diligent of him to keep one.”

“I mean, it’s handy. I wouldn’t have known you dislike tomatoes and chickpeas otherwise,” he says, sounding amused. “Seriously, tomatoes?”

I chuckle. “Their texture is the problem, more so than their taste. Plus, I can have them just fine in sauces. Just not… in salads and on their own.” And speaking of food. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll grab something to eat and go through the surveillance after that.”

Leo nods and follows me out of the warehouse office. The four men see us off to the taxi I’ve booked.

“Do you think we’ll find anything? I mean, considering the police officer didn’t,” Leo says when the driver puts the separator up once I’ve given the address.

“I’m not counting on it. But you never know. Maybe he just didn’t know what to look for.”

The small ramen shop I take Leo to is tucked between two massive office buildings overlooking Asakusa. Even though it’s still the afternoon, the market is brimming with people, the noise and smells wafting in through the shop’s door as Leo and I grab our bowls and sit along the wooden counter spanning the window.

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