by Staci Hart
She whipped around, enraged. “You don’t even fucking know me. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
He laughed, the sound dry and cruel. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? Because I’m dead fucking certain I could beat you on a quarter mile.” The minute it left his mouth, he knew not only that it was a mistake, but it was a lie.
Bitter laughter rang in his hot ears as she leaned across the bar and into his face. “Oh, you think so? Let me guess. You’re thinking, Surely, this little girl couldn’t beat me with my great big dick and my big bad car. Well, guess what, asshole? You’re on.”
She pushed away and tossed her towel in a bus bin, saying as she passed her sister, “I’m going to take inventory. You can handle all of this, right?” She motioned to Dillon, meeting his glare with eyes like razor blades. “I’ll see you on the track.”
And with those parting words, she turned on her heel and stormed into the back room, leaving him at the bar, his nostrils flaring and anger blazing like a bonfire.
Kiki’s brows rose at her sister, who blew past with a whoosh of hot, angry air, and she turned to Owen, who had been shocked silent.
Dillon stalked over, his body so tight, she wondered if he’d snap if any of them made a wrong move.
He didn’t look at her. He was too busy staring a burning hole in Owen. “I’m out.”
Owen’s brows knit together, and he nodded once. “I’ll call a cab or Uber or something.”
They shared a silent moment before Dillon answered with a nod of his own and turned to leave the bar just as suddenly as he’d entered it.
Owen sighed, his brown eyes soft and sad and deep. “That went really well.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the door still swinging on the hinges from the force of Kat’s exit. “Yeah, well, Kat doesn’t often find men she can get along with, but it’s rare to see her break out the honey badger so eagerly.”
He shook his head. “I’m really sorry. He’s … I don’t know. I’ll find out what happened, see if I can get to the bottom of it.”
“Me too. Kat’s not super trusting, and she’s got that mouth on her.”
He laughed.
“She talks a lot of shit because a lot of shit gets talked to her.”
“What were they talking about racing for?”
Kiki tucked her long hair behind her ear and rested her chin in her palm. “She’s been racing for a long time, since she was practically a kid.”
He looked confused. “That’s kind of an extreme hobby.”
“My dad is really into cars and taught her how to drive, how to race. It was something they shared, something I never quite understood. I was more interested in getting into my mom’s makeup than getting dirty with engine grease,” she said with a laugh.
His wide lips smiled, and she scanned his handsome face again. He was so nice, so easy. Kind. She felt like she could trust him, which was dangerous.
She’d made that mistake before. Her instinct wasn’t to be relied on, not like Kat’s was. But this was different. He was different, though she didn’t know how or why. It was just something she knew, like the sky being blue or sunshine being warm.
Kiki sighed. “Anyway, it’s mostly men she races, and they don’t take her seriously, not until they know her and see her in action. Then they know better. Then they can see just how incredible she is. But by then, it’s usually too late. Once she’s made up her mind, it’s hard to come back from that.”
“I can see that,” he said with a nod.
“So that’s probably the big reason she popped off.”
“Aside from my brother’s mouth.”
She chuckled. “Yes, aside from that. But …” Kiki paused, nibbling her bottom lip. “Well, Kat’s a little protective of me. Actually,” she added, “a lot protective of me. I don’t have a great track record, and the last relationship I was in didn’t end well. She doesn’t think I should be seeing someone.”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes were bottomless, velvety brown, and she found herself drowning in them.
“Thanks, but it’s over now. She’s just a little paranoid.”
“I get that; so is Dillon. He wasn’t thrilled about coming tonight. I think he sensed you didn’t have the best track record,” he joked, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile.
“I wonder what set them off though?”
Owen picked at the napkin under his scotch. “Sounds like we might have set them off.”
She sighed again. “Did you see the way they looked at each other before their big mouths ruined it all?”
“I did. It was strange. I’ve never seen him react like that. Like he’d been struck. Not that he doesn’t have girls around. He’s got groupies, for God’s sake, but none of them have ever been what one would consider a girlfriend. And he’s never looked at any of them that way.”
Kiki’s brows rose. “He’s never had a girlfriend? That’s kind of weird, Owen.”
He laughed softly, but his eyes were sad. “I guess it is a little. But there’s a good reason. Our dad … well, let’s put it like this. Dillon learned to fight at a very young age.”
“Do you mean he …” She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to be right.
“I mean that he shouldered the weight of our father’s drunken Irish rage after our mother died. As in, Ye steal me lucky charms, and I’ll box yer ears, ye feck.” Owen’s voice lilted musically, but his face was sad. “Between Dillon’s own issues and what our dad did to our mom, I think he’s afraid of himself, afraid to let himself go. He fights to keep himself in check. It’s his job, and it’s his medicine.”
“Worst medicine ever—getting punched in the face.”
Owen laughed, and Kiki smiled wistfully as she traced the lines of his face with her eyes.
He paused, smiling back. “Go out with me, Kiki.”
A flush crept across her cheeks. “What do you have in mind?”
Owen looked into her eyes, leaning in. “Does it matter?”
And she laughed, angling toward him. “Not at all.”
The door to the stockroom hit the wall with a smack when Kat pushed it open, and she stormed into the narrow room lined with shelves of liquor bottles, pacing and fuming.
That fucking jerk. That jerk-ass jerk with his jerk face and bad attitude. She was so sick of men and their egos, their big, stupid, jerkface egos.
A string of expletives ran through her head as she paced the length of the room, wishing she could throw something.
The good guys didn’t run in her circles, guys like Owen. Of course, guys like Owen wanted nothing to do with her. Her edge was too sharp, too hard. She was a hazard, and men saw it from a mile away. They wanted girls like Kiki, soft and sweet and smiling.
Instead, Kat ended up around guys with something to prove. But then again, she had something to prove too. Maybe that was the problem.
And tonight, that fucker had come back and picked a fight and challenged her to a race.
He had no clue. But he was about to.
Kat sat down on a stack of beer cases, furious and frustrated. A bucket of bottle caps sat on the shelf next to her, and she slipped a hand in, wiggling her fingers to produce a gratifying rattle. She pulled out a bottle cap and flipped it over in her hand.
Her temporary acceptance of Dillon’s pseudo apology had passed, leaving her impossibly angry. With everything she and Kiki had just been through, Kat didn’t know how her sister could even consider dating someone. It was completely irrational. Irresponsible.
It was selfish. Kiki wouldn’t be the one to deal with the repercussions if Eric found them. Kiki wasn’t thinking about what would happen to any man who was with her when it came time to pay her dues.
Kat would.
It was late that night, the Las Vegas desert evening cool as Kat drove home from her bartending gig with the windows down and her hair whipping around her. She was exhausted, ready for her pillow and the long hours of sil
ence that would carry her off to sleep.
Her lids were heavy. It was almost three in the morning, the neighborhood still and quiet as she pulled into her driveway and cut the engine with a sigh.
A scream ripped through the silence, and adrenaline shot through her like a bullet.
Kiki.
Kat reached under her seat for her gun and threw open the door, wide awake as she ran toward the house. When she pushed the front door open, every muscle in her body flexed, her arm rising on instinct to point the barrel of her Sig at Eric.
Kiki lay twisted on the ground, her clothes torn and shirt gaping, arms hooked over her face. She turned to the sound of the opening door, and a piece of Kat was lost forever when their eyes met.
Kiki’s eye was swollen nearly shut, a sick shade of purple ringing the socket, and blood streamed from a cut on her bruised cheek. Mascara streaked and smeared her face, her eyes wild and as bright as emeralds, shining with fear.
Eric loomed over her, his muscles straining under his skin as he flexed his massive fist, pulled back and ready to release. His face snapped to Kat’s, his eyes possessed. He was barely recognizable, a feral creature, completely broken.
Kat didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just stood in the doorway with her legs apart, chin down, and his forehead in her sights.
“Back the fuck up.” Her voice held a calm she didn’t feel.
His fist dropped just enough to indicate he’d heard her. “She’s not leaving me.”
“That’s not really up to you to decide, now is it?”
“I won’t let her.” His even tone sent a chill through her.
“Looks to me like she already did. Now, you have about ten seconds to get the fuck out of my house before I blow your fucking brains out.” Her heart hammered in her ears, but her hand was stock-still, her breath slow and steady, just like she’d been taught.
He stood straight, staring her down with dark eyes that cut through her like a hot blade. She could practically see his neurons firing as he worked through his options.
But he’d never been a smart man.
He turned back to Kiki, his face twisting, eyes burning with obsession as he bent over her, hand outstretched, and hissed, “You’re mine.”
Kat unlocked the safety. “Time’s up.”
“Wait!” Kiki screamed. “Kat, wait!”
Her finger eased off the trigger as her eyes darted to Kiki and back to Eric. She would kill him without thinking twice, without a single regret, and that fact clicked into awareness in them both at the same moment.
Eric’s eyes were on fire as he stepped toward the door and she sidestepped in the opposite direction, toward her sister, tracking him across the room with her gun.
He stopped in the doorway, face shrouded in shadows, his dark silhouette framed by the night.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
Her finger brushed the trigger, wishing to end it. “It had better fucking be over. You come back, and you’re dead. She won’t save you from me again.”
He stood in silence, hands clenched, the muscles in his arms rippling as he gripped and released, waiting what felt like ages before slipping away into the darkness.
Kat stared at the empty space long after his car rumbled away with the nose of her gun trembling, still aimed at the place where he’d stood as she waited for him to come back.
Kiki broke the quiet with a sob, and Kat wheeled around, dropping to her knees at her sister’s side.
Her ponytail hung half out with loose strands that had fallen around her shoulders. He dragged her by it, Kat thought as she inspected Kiki, running her hand over Kiki’s tangled hair and bloodied, bruised face before drawing her sister into her arms.
“Shh. It’s okay,” Kat whispered, the words shaky.
Kiki’s breath came in ragged, shuddering sobs. She curled into Kat, who looked back at the open door, expecting to find Eric there.
And she rocked her sister, whispering a promise. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
Later that same night, Kat shifted gears and gripped the wheel with both hands again, the Camaro speeding through the desert that stretched out in every direction around them.
She glanced over at Kiki, who sat curled into the door with her forehead pressed against the glass, staring out at nothing.
“How long will it take us to get to New York?” Kiki’s hollow voice startled Kat. Neither of them had spoken for hours.
“Three days. Two if we drive straight through. We should have enough of a head start on Eric to be able to stop so I can sleep, if you don’t feel like driving.”
“He’s not going to follow us.”
Kat’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “He’d better not, or he’s dead. Seriously fucking dead.”
She turned to Kat with glistening eyes, the slit of her swollen eye brimming. “Stop it,” she said with a trembling voice. “Please.”
Kat took a heavy breath to calm herself; it didn’t. What she wanted was to cry, to scream or yell, to tell Kiki how she felt, how she really felt. She would say that she was sorry. That she was afraid it wasn’t over. Admit that she’d almost killed him. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t do anything to make things any harder on Kiki than they already were.
But she couldn’t keep completely quiet. It just wasn’t in her nature.
“He’s had fair warning, Kiki. I won’t let him go again.”
“I know,” she whispered, laying her head on the window again. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to live with myself if I’m the reason he’s killed.”
Kat’s heart sank like a stone in her chest. “I get it. I was the one who almost killed him.” She paused. “Kiki … what happened?”
Her shoulders lifted in the slightest of shrugs. “I don’t know when it happened, when things turned. Everything was fine at first. I mean, we were together all the time, but somehow, I never knew what he was. Who he was. What he wanted. I thought he was just into me, and that was why he was so clingy. But once the newness wore off and I tried to get back to my life, he squeezed tighter. And then … I don’t know. He started to get angry. Possessive. I’d been planning on breaking up with him for a while, but I was afraid of how he’d react. At least I was right about that.” Her voice was gravelly and worn.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d flip out.”
Regret slipped over Kat. Kiki wasn’t wrong; if she’d known, she would have put a stop to it. And now, they were living the worst-case scenario outside of that one way, that final way.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me,” Kat finally said.
“It’s okay.” She stared out the window. “You would have been right.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment. “You know that if Dad finds out what Eric did, he won’t stop until the debt is paid.”
Kiki wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s the yakuza way. I don’t even want to think about it.”
Kat stared at the road where her headlights cut wedges in the dark. Their father was a yakuza waka gashira — the right hand of a big boss in the Japanese Mafia. And he would go to great lengths where his daughters were concerned.
Given Eric’s crime, his punishment would be extreme. And extreme for yakuza was unspeakable.
She sighed. “We’ll figure it out, Kiki. I’ll call Dad in the morning and tell him we’re coming.”
Kiki turned, snapped from her lethargy, her body tense and alert. “What are you going to tell him?”
“Not the truth. I’ll tell him we just want a change of scenery.”
“You really think he’s going to buy that?”
“Probably not. But if you want Eric alive, this is the only way. Dad can’t know the truth. I don’t think he’ll press our story, but he’ll dig around behind our backs to find out. Eric won’t say anything, not knowing who our father is. He’s stupid, but he’s not that stupid.”
“What about Mom?”
&nb
sp; “I think we can tell her the truth, and I think we have to. There’s no way she’ll believe we split town in the middle of the night without saying goodbye for no reason. She won’t tell Dad. Out of everyone, she’s the one person who will understand what it would mean if he found out.”
Kiki nodded. “I should be the one to tell her. You handle Dad.”
“Okay.” Kat glanced at her sister and then back at the road. “I know you don’t think Eric will follow us, but I’m going to have a couple of people who run in our circles let me know if he leaves town or starts asking about us. If he makes a move, we’ll let Dad loose. We should have a few days’ lead on him if he leaves Vegas. He won’t fly if he has plans for us, too easy to track. But if he lets it go, if enough time passes … well, I’m hoping we can all just fucking drop it.”
Kiki ran a thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “We’re going to need jobs—unless you’re going to race.”
But she shook her head, heart heavy. “There’s too high of a chance that someone will recognize me and get back to Eric. You know how bookies love to gossip, and I stand out.”
The thought of not being able to race weighed on her. When everything else was out of control, racing always brought her back to center. It was one of the only things she could control.
“So, bartending?” Kiki asked with a half-smile.
Kat chuckled. “What bar owner worth his salt wouldn’t hire two half-Japanese sisters with green eyes?”
“Zero-point-zero. What about a place to live?”
“I’ll talk to Dad about it tomorrow. He’ll help us find a place, hopefully one with a garage. Otherwise, where the fuck am I gonna park Sheila in New York City?”
Kiki laughed, but it never reached her eyes. “Good point.”
Kat covered Kiki’s hand with her own. “It’s going to be all right, Kiki.”
The sigh that left her was heavy. “Coming from anyone else, that wouldn’t make me feel better. But from you? I have to believe it’s true.”