Page 48 of Cunning Lies
With that, the door closes behind him, and I find my phone. It’s not over, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
I should warn Patrick. Kenzo may hurt him—he may even kill him—and that would emotionally gut Uncle Jay.
Uncle Jay.
I call him. It rings once before he answers.
“Jesus christ, Vi. Where the hell have you been?” he asks.
I swallow a breath. “I’ve—”
“You got anything for the client? They need answers before they transfer the first payment,” he grumbles. “You’d think that with their culture, they’d be more polite than this, but no, that behavior runs out the door when they want something for you. But they need a sample, you know? A little taste of what we can give them. What do you got for me?”
Bitter acid twists in my throat. I guess I thought Uncle Jay would be more worried about what Kenzo was like as a husband, but he’s not. It’s always about business. And maybe that’s all my virginity was to Uncle Jay—a business decision to make sure that I wouldn’t mess up when it came time to my first date with a ‘friend.’ Maybe that’s why I was always so drunk. I couldn’t complain. Not out loud, anyway.
I bite my tongue. I don’t want anything to happen to anyone, but I also don’t want Kenzo to get hurt. If I tell Uncle Jay that I told Kenzo about that night, he’ll freak out. I was never supposed to tell anyone about our family secrets, but now, Kenzo knows. He’s digging deeper into my heart.
I’m ruining everything, but I have to say something. I have to make this job worth it.
“Tell them about Legendary Analysis,” I say. “It’s a testing kit company. I found notes on Kenzo’s desk.”
I hang up before I’m forced to say anything else. A minute passes and I brace myself. But my stomach aches. I’ve never been on this side of a con; I’ve always been on the outside, finding information to help Uncle Jay and Patrick manipulate ‘friends’ into giving them money.
But worse than that, I didn’t say anything to protect Patrick.
I run to the toilet and vomit. I close my eyes, pleading that Kenzo will be nice to Patrick, just like Patrick was nice to me.
CHAPTER15
KENZO
Nice.What a fucking word.
The sunset blazes across the sky as I drive down the highway. It’s a beautiful mix of pink and red, butniceobliterates everything in sight.Niceflashes in my mind as I enter the steakhouse. Dice is posted outside of the private meeting room, scanning the scene, a vein throbbing in his neck, and Ronin bows his head when we make eye contact. He’s been working with Dice, and his blistered knuckles show it. Enforcing isn’t glamorous work, but it’s better than cleaning the boss’s toilets. Still, even if Ronin gets to skip that part of the entry work, he’s not jumping into negotiations. He has to guard with Dice.
Inside of the private dining room of the restaurant, dark mahogany wood covers each wall. Deep tufted leather seats line each table. Usually, we meet on our own grounds, but when it comes to particularly important clients, we make exceptions, and the director of Golden Honor Firearms likes his steaks.
The director stands, greeting Tomo with a firm handshake. Gray hair saddles the sides of his head, and his brown eyes paint him in a comfortable ease.
“Watashi wa Harry-san desu. Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” he says, bowing deeply and speaking decent Japanese.My name is Mr. Harry. Pleased to meet you.I’m impressed—my Japanese skills are shit—so I give a short clap. Tomo dips his head at the director.
“Mr. Harry! Thanks for agreeing to meet with us,” Tomo says. He gives me a wink, making sure I’m in on the humor. Calling him ‘Mr. Harry’ is a joke, since he introduced himself that way in Japanese. Mr. Harry laughs like he knows why Tomo is amused.
Tomo ushers Niko forward and Niko shakes Mr. Harry’s hand. “Niko,” he says. There’s no explanation needed.
“He’ll be taking over for me once I retire,” Tomo explains. Then he nods at me, and I offer my hand. “This is my financial controller, Kenzo.”
I’m always amused by how oddly formal that title sounds. But it’s easier than saying, ‘he runs public relations for Samurai Corporation, handles the drug dealers,andblackmails corporate bigwigs.’Financial controller.It’s a nice term.
Nice.
I grip Mr. Harry’s hand. “Mr. Harry,” I smirk. “Golden Honor Firearms in the flesh! It’s about time you honored us with your presence.”
“Pleased, so pleased to be here.” Mr. Harry tilts his head, then nods to Cherry. “And the beauty back there?”
She presses her lips together but doesn’t offer her hand. “Cherry,” she says.
“She’s my daughter,” Tomo explains. Usually, he brags about her martial arts training, but with Mr. Harry, he keeps it simple. Is he trying to keep Mr. Harry’s defenses low? Or is he trying to be ‘nice’?
