Page 23 of Cunning Lies
Niko steps forward, his bluish-black eyes narrowing in on Ronin.
“How the fuck did you get through security?” Niko asks, his tone pure ice.
“I’m Tomo-san’s first-born son,” Ronin says.
Niko’s brow subtly creases, then he rubs his bottom lip. He steps between Tomo and Ronin, creating a physical barrier. If Ronin is claiming he’s Tomo’s first-born son, then that means that Ronin may be our next oyabun, instead of Niko.
Sometimes, I swear Niko only tolerates the yakuza because he knows that one day, he will be our boss. Ronin is threatening that.
“Bullshit,” Niko says. “I remember you: you’re Akio’s kid.”
“Akio raised me, but you can test my blood,” Ronin says. “I am Tomo’s son.”
“So you admit it, then?” Niko asks. “No one from the Ito-gumi gets through our security without—”
“I cleared it,” Tomo interrupts. “My son has always had clearance here.”
Niko glimpses at Tomo. Tomo has such a big heart when it comes to family, especially his kids. But Ronin is an outsider. We don’t know him.
Why is he at my wedding?
As wakagashira, this is Niko’s territory. Niko and Ronin lock each other in a staring contest, a samurai-level battle of patience, and it’s almost funny.
“You’re a spy,” Niko says. “Youarefrom Ito-gumi.”
“Not anymore,” Ronin says. He lifts his hand, and there it is—his missing pinky, cut off at the knuckle. The edge of his pinky is blunt, with red and pink blood crusting over the blackened skin. A low murmur curls through the room.
“Yubitsume,” Tomo says in awe.
In yakuza tradition, to leave a gang, the member must cut off hisownfinger, wrap it in a cloth, and present it to the oyabun.
So Ronin cut off hisownfinger and presented it to the leader of Ito-gumi, just so that he could come here?
“I don’t give a fuck about your pinky. You’re still a spy,” Niko says.
But Tomo steps out from behind Niko and puts his arm around Ronin’s shoulder. “He’s your brother. Not your enemy.”
“He came from Ito-gumi,” Niko argues.
“And we have a good working relationship with the Ito-gumi, even if we have our differences, don’t we, Niko?” Tomo says. “And Ronin is here. Perhaps he’s the motivation you need to properly step into your role as second-in-command.”
Niko scowls, muttering Japanese curse words under his breath, and he’s off, his phone in his ear, disappearing behind a thick row of zelkova trees.
I wave to Ronin. If Tomo accepts him, then I will too. For now.
“The more, the merrier,” I say. I pull up a chair to our table, and he scans me and my wife cautiously, unsure whether to accept the offer, or to find his gun. I urge him again: “We’ve got plenty of food. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Finally, Ronin bows and takes the seat. He reminds me of my parents—always polite and respectful. They immigrated to the United States before I was born, but after I ran away to Las Vegas and took up with Tomo, I forgot about the constant bowing. Most of the time, Tomo seems to skip it as a way to assimilate into the hustler culture here.
Ronin scans the room. He’s older than me by a handful of years, but around the same age as Niko. Damn… Niko, Cherry, and now, Ronin? All of Tomo’s biological kids are with different women. He’s got super sperm.
Jay waves at Vi, and she wipes her mouth with her napkin.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she says. She goes off with her uncle, and I’m left alone with the new guy.
“You hungry?” I ask.
Ronin shakes his head. “No. Thank you, though.”
