I looked away, stared at the glinting city.
“If this is war, Kenji. We need strategy. We’ll place more men around her. Keep her protected. But you need to disappear for a while. We must also change your meeting place with the Butcher.”
“To where?”
“Paris. Where your father’s eyes can’t follow.”
I shook my head. “I promised Nyomi I’d see her tomorrow night.”
“Better to break a promise than carry her dead body in your arms,” his words stabbed me in the gut.
I inhaled sharply, reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over her name.
Nyomi.
I exhaled like I’d been punched. My fingers trembled—just slightly—as I tried to figure out what to say to her. . .how to cancel tomorrow’s date with her.
God, I wanted to see her now. Even just a glance. Her laugh would be enough. Her skin, that scent. . .
I almost called the driver.
Almost ordered him to take me to her.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I slipped the phone back into my pocket like it was a knife I couldn’t unsheathe.
She’d never know how close I came to choosing her over vengeance.
Then my eyes drifted down.
To the seat beside me.
To that gift she’d given me.
I stared at it with the quiet ache of a man who didn’t know how to feel anything but fury. “I want to see her.”
“I know you do.”
“But I want her alive too.”
“Correct.”
“Hiro wasn’t sure what Nura and he would be but I am dead certain that Nyomi will be my forever.” I reached out, picked up the gift and slowly slid the black ribbon off.
Next, my fingers dug into the gold paper.
Once I removed it, I spotted a flat, square lacquered box made of dark polished wood—wenge maybe, or ebony.
Expensive.
Lush.
Like me, Nyomi didn’t do cheap.
What could be inside?
Reo watched too, just as curious.