Page 33 of A Boy Is a Gun: Part II
I glance at it.“Good.She’s next.”
Que doesn’t move on.He swipes again, but this time it’s not a still photo—it’s a live feed.High resolution.His building.Taylor’s building.And there she is.Sitting on a park bench outside with Mia in her lap.Laughing.Relaxed.
Sitting next tohim.
I know him before Que even opens his mouth.Long dark hair tied back, tattoo sleeves visible under a rolled-up shirt.Glasses that make him look like he should be fixing someone’s WiFi instead of playing in the kind of circles I’ve heard his name in.
“Jiro,” I say, my voice dropping half an octave.
Que glances at me.“You know him?”
“In passing,” I answer, eyes glued to the screen.“He’s lived in the building about a year.We’re not friends.We’re not enemies.”My jaw works.“That might change.”
We watch in silence for a few seconds.Then it happens—Taylor shifts Mia toward him.Jiro takes her easily, one hand supporting her back, the other bouncing her gently until she’s giggling.Something in me goes cold.Sharp.
Que notices.“You good?”
I don’t answer right away.My eyes stay on Jiro, on Mia’s tiny hands gripping his shirt like he’s someone she knows, someone she trusts.
“You think we’ve got beef with the Yakuza?”Que asks, almost joking, but testing my temperature.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say, calm.Too calm.I watch Jiro smile at my daughter again.“There might be one now.”
Book VI
Jiro
