“Look. Jada is my friend. I’m loyal to my friends. I’d think you, of all people, would appreciate that. I don’t know what the hell is going on between the two of you, but I know she’s unhappy,” I’d said.
“She’s unhappy because she’s fighting her role. Her destiny,” he’d replied quietly.
“And that’s you?” I’d asked, trying hard to hold back the scoff.
“It is asMori-sama’sonly child. His heir. There are expectations that come with the title. Expectations that, if you were truly aloyalfriend, you’d help her remember.”
He’d let it settle between us, and when I hadn’t responded, he’d put another nail in the coffin. “Let me put it another way. If you continue to support her poor choices, there will be consequences regardless of how successful our business together is or isn’t.”
Ken’Ichi had started to walk out but then looked back with an almost pleased look on his face. “Go play with the little waif you’ve brought along. I will deal withJada-chanfrom now on.”
Then, he’d left.
I’d wanted to follow him and make sure he didn’t end up in Jada’s room, and then I remembered Vi was there with her and hoped it would be protection enough.
I’d gone to my room instead and sent Malone a message on the secure phone.
ME: Ken’Ichi followed us to New York. Threatened me to stay out of Jada’s life.
M1: What the hell did you do?
ME: Nothing. Dax was here when he showed up. Having his fiancée flirting with another man put him in a bad mood, I guess.
M1: She’s the loose thread, Langley. She’s always been the loose thread that can unravel this whole damn thing. You said you had her under control.
ME: I said I had the situation under control. I can’t control her any more than her father or her fiancé.
He hadn’t responded, and I’d gone in search of whiskey, only to find Violet in almost fucking nothing. Now, I needed the whiskey more than ever.
I swallowed the first glass and poured another.
The three phones in the pocket of my sweats were a heavy weight. I took them out, laying them out on the counter. A risk. Ken’Ichi could walk in. Violet could return.
There was a missed call on my personal phone. I flicked the screen, and my stomach turned more, realizing it was from Dick. There was no joy in seeing my dad’s name in my message box. It was only nine on the West Coast.
I knew I shouldn’t call. It had been a shit of a night, but it didn’t stop me from hitting the button even when I knew exactly how the conversation would go. There would be three rounds. There werealwaysthree rounds.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
“You are alive, after all,” he said, a joke and also a barb. Not at all the way Truck teased me of losing track of how long it had been since we talked.
“What’s up?” I asked, which was, of course, the opening to the first round. Because he would bring up Carlos. The life that I’d almost taken.
“Did you hear some anonymous charity donated a new car to Carlos?” he asked. I wanted to tell him I knew all about the donation, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He’d twist it someway.
“No. That’s great,” I lied, waiting for round two to start where he would tell me how Carlos had not only changed his life but also made it better.
“He’s managing the marina now, got married to Faith, and they have a kid on the way,” he said right on cue.
I downed my whiskey. Why had I insisted on torturing myself? But I knew why.
“No, shit?” I reacted with forced enthusiasm. “Carlos is going to be a dad? Wow, ain’t that something.”
The ain’t had been purposeful. I could almost see his jaw clenching. We were good at picking at each other’s tender spots.
Which brought us to round three.
“You ever going to man up and get a real job?” he asked.
