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Alone, I watched myself in the reflection, unzipping the purse Harmon had loaned to me since I never carried one myself. My gun was the only thing nestled inside. I wanted easy access should I need it.
In my front pocket and tucked into my shoe, I could feel the solid, reassuring shapes of the knives Che had given me.
I was hoping none of it came to violence, but I wasn't going to be naive and think it wasn't a possibility. I needed to be prepared. I'd been able to hold my own under pressure once before. There was no reason to think I couldn't do it again.
There was a gentle tap on the wall of the men's room.
It was time.
Sucking in a deep breath, I made my way to the door.
Then, in unison, Che and I walked into the employee-only room with the confidence of people who belonged there.
I don't know what I was expecting exactly. Some dingy stone-walled room with red bloodstains in the floor that stubbornly refused to come out. A dozen armed guards standing around, just waiting for kill orders.
Something like that, surely.
Not a room that was strangely similar to the one out front, except instead of a dozen or so smaller tables, the space was dominated by one massive table. Though, oddly, the space was much smaller than Arty had suggested.
This wasn't some evil lair, but rather a pretty upscale meeting room, complete with a small box of donuts at one end of the table.
At the far end of the table, though, was Jia Xú. He was as good-looking as the pictures suggested, but dressed down in a pair of jeans and a black ribbed tank that put his strong arms on display.
As we walked in, he'd been casually lifting a burger from his styrofoam container up for a bite.
"Wrong room," he said, tone casual. "If you're looking for a quickie, I suggest the women's bathrooms. The stalls have doors," he added, tone amused and dismissive as he took that bite of his burger.
"Actually, Jia, we are here to talk to you," Che said, chin lifting as the man's gaze slid over him.
"Hm," Jia said, wiping his mouth with a red linen napkin that matched the ones out front. "What could you want to talk to me about?" he asked.
"Actually," I said, ignoring Che's objecting noise as I took one step forward. "It's me who has to talk to you."
"Well, that's more interesting, at least," Jia said, reaching for a potato wedge. "What do you need to discuss with me?"
"Why you're trying to kill me," I said, watching as his brows rose. There was no other sign of his surprise.
"I'm clearly not doing a very good job, it seems," he said, looking over at the other man who appeared from the door that I thought led outside, but seemed to go off into another room. That would explain why the meeting space seemed smaller than it should have. "Did you hear? I'm trying to kill her," he declared to the other man, someone I didn't recognize either. "I'm losing my touch," he added, shaking his head. "But I'll humor you," he told me, reaching for another wedge. "Why am I trying to kill you?"
This was a lot weirder than I expected. I wanted to look back and see if Che was picking up on it as well, but I didn't want to look insecure, or like I was deferring to Che.
"I was your wheelman on a recent job," I explained.
"Hm," he said, nodding. "That's kind of hot," he decided. "Refresh my memory. What job was this?" he asked.
Again, weird.
Right?
Who didn't know what jobs he had just done? What people he hired for those jobs? Unless the Triad was a much larger organization than I realized.
"I was hired to take a package from a house over in Mid-Beach. On the way back with the package, I was run off the road, the package was stolen, and I'd just barely gotten away. I've been chased for weeks."
"Now, why would I hire you for a job, then steal the package, then try to kill you? Seems backward to me," he said, taking another bite of his burger.
It did sound backward.
But that had to be what had happened.
"Backward or not, that's what's been happening."
"Okay. Say that is what has been happening," Jia said, nodding. "Why are you here? To beg for your life?"
"To demand you give me the package back, so I can give it back to its rightful owner. I don't think either of us want a problem with them."
"Hm," Jia said, looking me over, then Che.
"And who might they be?" he asked.
What the hell was going on? How could he possibly not know something this big?
"The Yakuza," Che supplied when I didn't immediately do so.
"What?" Jia barked, body stiffening. "What did you just say?"
