Page 10 of Dark Surrender

To Abby: How’s Lily? Did the money come in?

Of course, the money did. It always does. But I don’t know what else to ask. How’s my daughter? Does she like school?

Fuck.

To Tarek: Miss you, kid. How’s Cali?

To Fog: You alive?

With my heart stripped bare, it plays a boxing match with my ribs. I shut off my phone and tuck it into my jacket, afraid of what they might say.

The last time I spoke to Kali in person, she poisoned me for giving her sister, Sola, to the Kings of Anarchy motorcycle club under false pretenses. What can I say? I owed them for takin’ care of a few things for me. I had no other leverage. Their club prez is a crazy motherfucker who doesn’t speak. Sola uses sign language and happens to love sex. She seemed like the best sister for the job. Hell, the last I heard, they were all happy, happy. Did that stop Kali from making me wish for death?

Hell. No.

I slept on the bathroom floor for a week.

I thought I might actually die.

Penelope begged me to go to the doctor.

I couldn’t.

What would I say? My ex-wife poisoned me. I can’t be sure if it was the tea or the chocolate I ordered from her shop, Dark Delicacies. Yeah, it’s named after me. It shouldn’t be. She should have renamed the place years ago. But she hasn’t, and now it’s a constant reminder of what I did to us. To our family… to her.

Fuck. That feels like another lifetime.

I was a different man then.

Not this broken piece of trash who slides into the back of his blacked-out SUV, who stares out the window as a world he doesn’t recognize flashes by.

In my office, well past usual business hours, I fire up my computer and get lost in the depraved world of selling human parts to the highest bidder.

And I die a little more with each click of the mouse.

CHAPTER SIX

Dunking a piece of my uramaki into a small dish of soy sauce with chopsticks, I carefully lift the tasty treat to my mouth while Dee goes wild on her plate of eel nigiri. It’s her favorite food. If you asked my sister what her last meal would be, it’d be sushi. Though probably not in a fancy sit-down restaurant like this.

But she’s here, and that’s what matters.

I picked her up from our cabin this morning, and now we’re having a late girls’ lunch, just like normal people do. Only, we’re not normal, and Dee’s head is on a constant swivel. Anytime a man politely smiles at her, she snarls low, like a feral animal, and flashes her teeth. As much as I should hate it or be embarrassed by her wild nature, especially when the men do a wide-eyed, uneasy double take, I’m just trying not to laugh. It’s not every day you see a woman, the size of a teacup, look like she’s about to rip out your jugular with her teeth. For what Dee lacks in size, she makes up for in crazy. I couldn’t adore her more, even if I tried.

At a whole four feet, eleven inches of bronzed skin, straight black hair that she insists on braiding, and freckles, with bright eyes the color of butterscotch, she’s always drawing attention she doesn’t want.

Picking up a piece of sushi with her fingers, she shoves the whole thing into her mouth. It turns her into a chipmunk as she chews, but Dee doesn’t care as she tucks into her plate.

“My apartment is just down the street,” I say to distract her from yet another gawker walking past our table.

She nods.

“This is a nice place,” I tack on as I sit back and look around. Its calming Japanese vibe with earth tones is pleasant. I’ll definitely be back with or without my sister.

Dee hums as if she agrees about the restaurant, but doesn’t look up from her plate, which she’s nearly polished off.

When our waitress returns, I order my sister another round of her favorites. Once she’s full, I pay the bill and show her to my apartment on the third floor of the fanciest building I’ve ever lived in. It has a working elevator and a part-time doorman.

When she steps into my marble-floored foyer, her eyes widen. Yes, I have one of those—a foyer. I place my keys in a fancy ceramic bowl on a table just inside the door. It clinks its welcome home. I love the sound. Silly, maybe. But I’ve never had a bowl by a door before. Or a bathroom attached to my bedroom. Or an open-concept kitchen, living, and dining area. Or now that I think about it, I’ve never had curtains, and this place is loaded with them.