Page 202 of The Silent Note

I use the word ‘we’, but Finn is the son of the yakuza. There’s no way they’ll allow him to be hurt. I’m the one who’ll be standing in the cross-hairs of disaster.

His eyes rove to mine. “Do you plan to hurt him?”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. Is he concerned for me or for his father?

“You’re here with my protection, but that won’t stretch very far. These men are trained fighters. You'll be dead before you can make a move. And if you end up dying, Zane will never forgive me.”

I suck in a deep breath.

Finn continues up the path. I follow him and wipe my sweaty palms on the side of my pants.

Up ahead, a gazebo stands deep in the heart of the garden. There's a man inside with his back to us and a security guard to his right. The man dips his hands into a bag and throws food into the pond.

As we cross a wooden bridge, I look over and spot lily pads floating in the water. On the other side, white fish with orange spots swim close to the surface.

Our footsteps clatter on the gazebo steps.

The closer we get, the more my heart races.

There’s a filmy, dream-like quality to this moment. Like I’m experiencing something that isn’t quite real. Did I think when I woke up this morning that my world would change this drastically? That I’d be face-to-face with the man who gave the order to traffic and then murder Sloane?

No.

In all my imaginings of this moment, I saw myself having the upper hand. I tasted the victory of collecting all the evidence and blowing the case wide open.

Instead, I’m facing Sloane’s murderer like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

At least she’s not here to witness this. It’s enough to battle my own conflicting emotions without her in my ear.

Finn’s father keeps his back to us despite knowing we’re here. He speaks something in Japanese.

A long silence follows.

With every second that ticks by, I can see his back muscles stiffening.

I glance up at Finn. There’s no change in his expression, but when I observe closely, his fingers are pulled into fists.

“You know I don’t speak Japanese,” Finn says finally.

The man turns his face to the side. The wind picks up and the ends of his long black shirt and wide-legged trousers flap against his body.

“You will learn.” There’s a heavy accent around his words, but even I can tell he’s not asking. He wipes his hands against his pants and spins fully around. Sharp, dangerous eyes fasten on Finn like a hawk to its prey.

“Miss Jamieson, this is NinomaeKurosaki.” Finn gestures.

He doesn’t introduce Kurosaki as his ‘father’ and, from the flash in the older man’s eyes, I’m not the only one who observed that.

Slowly, Kurosaki’s gaze drags away from his son to me and I shrink back into myself. There's something about Kurosaki that’s more menacing than I expected, but it’s in a totally different way than it is with Jarod Cross.

The rockstar is smoothly sinister, an excessive smoothness that makes him almost oily. It feels like Jarod Cross is slick,bathedin danger and cunning. Like if you touch him, your fingers will slide right off.

But with Kurosaki, there's no oil. No smoothness. There's nothing slick enough to grease the wheels of a machine. He's dry and to the point.

Jarod Cross likes to hear himself talk, but when Kurosaki pulls the gun on you, there will be no soliloquies or grand pontifications. There will just be his eyes and then death.

“This is Miss Jamieson.” Finn gestures to me.

“So you are the woman the blue-eyed one loves,” Kurosaki says.