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“Nora kept many secrets from me. It was how we managed to be together, even when she knew I was… involved with things. But after Little’s death and that horrid court case, she couldn’t hide her husband’s abuse anymore. She couldn’t explain away Clara’s injuries.”
I force myself to remain stoic. Straight-faced.
But the thought of Greg Everett being cucked by Raizo Watanabe in his own home does threaten to put a big smile on my face.
“So there you have it.” Raizo sighs and refocuses his sharp stare at me. “I may have forgotten myself amidst heartbroken memories, but Clara means more to me than you realize.”
I can’t hold back the sarcasm from my voice. “Is that why you trapped her in there with Martin?”
That stupid smirk returns. “Did I?”
I’m about to lunge at him when I realize what he’s getting at.Didhe trap her in that shipping container with Martin?
Or did he trapMartinin there withher?
He waives a dismissive hand. “In any case, back to business. You, Mr. Zakrevksy, have been doing your damned hardest to ruin mine.”
I suck a breath through my teeth. “I may have been under the impression that you were attacking me first.”
“And two wrongs make a right?”
I rub a hand over my face. “In all honesty, I would have been happy to back off—if it weren’t for the slaves.”
He laughs. The man has the fucking balls tolaugh. “It never bothered you before. And after your generous hosting of my last auction at your casino?—”
“You’re damn right that it was your last auction.”
Raizo snaps his mouth shut to glare at me. And then, in a dangerously low voice: “What did you just say?”
I sit up and lean forward. “You’re done. It’s over. I don’t give a fuck if you smuggle drugs across the border or go back to lifting imported cars in Reno. Panhandle on the Strip for all I care. But you’re done here. And you’re sure as shit done with this sick fucking human trafficking business.”
He stares at me for a very long, silent moment. I’m happy to sit here for as long as it takes for everything to sink through his thick skull.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what I can and cannot fucking do,” he snaps at last.
Now, it’s my turn to smirk. “Oh, but I think I am.” I casually pull my phone out from my back pocket, which makes him startle in his chair, but he eases somewhat when he sees it isn’t a gun. I flick the screen on, scroll to my messages, and revisit the text I’d received an hour or so before we began the raid. “See, I’m not an idiot. I know better than to lodge a campaign against the Yakuza without good reason. Or permission.”
His hands tighten on the arms of his chair. “Permission?”
“Yup.” I skim through the texts, then flick over to my email inbox. “According to youroyabunout in Tokyo, you’ve been holding out on him. A lot.”
He goes pale instantly. “How the fuck?—”
“Unlike you, I actually check in with my colleagues.” I tuck my phone back in my pocket and flash him a shit-eating grin. “And they aren’t exactly wanting to ignite an international war over one isolated American boss importing chaos without verifying with his superiors first.”
His throat bobs with a swallow. “Ridiculous,” he snaps. He smacks his hands on the desk and shoves himself to his feet. “You think you can bluff?—”
“You made a single fifty million dollar sale—on stolen funds, by the way. How much did you report to Tokyo?”
He pales even worse. He looks like a corpse. In so many ways, that’s exactly what he is.
He just hasn’t realized it yet.
I stand as well, but I am a thousand times calmer than he is. “And you should have seen their faces when I sent the pictures I took during the last raid. It’s not just the disgusting lack of regard for human rights or dignity that pissed off your superiors—that same neglect lost them millions of dollars.”
“Get out.” Raizo thrusts a furious finger at the door. “Get the fuck out!”
“Yeah. I just have to take care of something first.”
