“I’m sure that as we continue to discuss our options, we will find a suitable arrangement for both of us, eh?” Tomo says.
“Arrangements,” Cherry mutters. “I’m not going to bearrangedinto anything.”
Mr. Harry puts a hand on my shoulder. “What do you think, big guy?” he asks. “Do you have any sisters you’d marry off for an unlimited supply of guns?”
I would never trade my sister for a business contract. I don’t show any emotion. As far as Mr. Harry knows, I didn’t hear his question.
Mr. Harry turns back to Tomo. “Quiet one, isn’t he?”
Tomo chuckles. “Dice is a good man. Always careful with his words.”
“We could all learn more from him,” Mr. Harry says. “Well, let’s discuss, shall we? Boss to boss. The owner of GHF is interested in the product the other group is offering.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand. Mr. Harry just referred to the fiancée of an arranged marriage as a ‘product.’ A phrase like that suggests human trafficking.
I push that thought away. Tomo would never allow slave trading in the Endo-kai.
The two men go to the corner of the booth, losing themselves in conversation. Eventually, Tomo buys Mr. Harry a private dance with another stripper. One I don’t know.
At least it’s nother.
And as soon as I think of Lily, I find her. Her green eyes taunt me, her orange hair like strands of rusty wires. She steps forward, and I shift away.
I’ll never understand this thing I have with her. Why I can’t kill her. Why I continue to pay the manager to tell me every man who lays his hands on her. Why I insist on killing every single one of them.
The power she has over me puts me on edge. Acting like she doesn’t exist is better for both of us.
I’ll always kill for her.
But that doesn’t mean I have to talk to her.
The scent of cotton candy and her light sweat mixes in the air. She puts a hand on my arm.
“Hi.”
My skin prickles with heat under her touch. Her presence hasn’t unnerved me like this in a long time, but she’s also never touched me before.
Why is she touching menow?
“You’re Dice, right?”
My name on her lips.
Pain radiates down my spine, my head spinning. Her hand leaves my skin, and I force myself to relax.
I have the power,I remind myself.I have a key to her house. A tracking device in her car. I’ve killed the men who thought they could touch her when she said to stop in private dances. I’ll be the last man to ever touch her.
I don’t say any of that out loud.
I don’t say a word.
“I know it’s been a while since I asked if you wanted a dance,” she says. She pauses, thinking over her words. “Anyway, I saw you talking to Mr. Harry, and I wanted to ask you a few questions. Not related to lap dancing, okay?” A hint of shyness infects her voice, as if she’s afraid of my rejection. My chest deflates. I don’t look at her.I can’t.“Is Mr. Harry your friend?”
Her voice is like a baby bird’s—soft, desperate, and perhaps even whiny. There’s something inside of me thatwantsher to keep talking so that I can figure outwhichannoying bird she reminds me of. Is it a seagull? A crow? No, she’s a hummingbird, fluttery and small. A creature that could easily be crushed in a fist.
She grabs my arm. The side of my body flames.
Maybe she’s something else. A feathered predator. Like an eagle.
