Page 26

19 June.

The night I met him.

After last night, I feel a little pathetic looking at it. Who gets a tattoo to remind themselves of someone who never loved them back? But I was drunk and sad when I got it. I wanted something to remember the one person who somehow made me feel invincible for the first time, like I owned the world, and I belonged in it. Yet, judging from the past few days, I don’t think I ever made him feel much.

I groan as I enter the shower, letting the steam and the scalding water engulf me. I have the day off from work and I’m determined to make some progress on Halle’s case, but there is still this incessant prickle at the back of my head.

I can’t help but think going to Canning was a mistake. I shouldn’t have been seen anywhere near Rowan, especially by Avni.

I could lie to myself and pretend she didn’t recognise me, but the way she kept watching me tells me she knew. That could be a problem. If she told Trist who I really am, who knows what sort of trouble that could bring?

I spent all of last night poring over Trist’s and Avni’s records, looking for anything that might point me in the right direction, but there wasn’t much to use. Nothing in Avni’s file either, except for a few run-ins with the police and a very active social media presence.

But maybe she can point me in the right direction. Maybe she couldn’t speak because of Trist and Rowan. Seeing her again would be a risk, but it could be the only way I can make some headway in this. Kane always tells me to be relentless. And I’m in already enough shit as it is. What’s a little more?

Time to be a detective, Kimura,

I get dressed quickly and drive down to a Pilates studio in the heart of Flower District. It’s still early and most people are still driving to work, but the avid gym goers are already bright eyedand sweaty, looking like they’ve snorted party drugs and not spent the last fifty minutes on uncomfortable spin bikes instead.

Sculpt Haus’s lobby is brightly lit and decorated with what I guess is some sort of sustainable wood and green shrubbery. Spandex-clad gym-goers clutch alternative milk lattes and neon yoga mats in their hands and walk past me, probably disdainful of the jeans and college sweater I threw on.

The clock reads eight o’clock on the dot, which is when Avni’s favourite reformer class ends according to her social media posts.

‘Never miss 7a.m. Pilates with Kirsti!’She posts on her feed every other day.

I checked on the studio’s website and Kristi had a class at 7 a.m. this morning. I pray to God Avni didn’t decide to flake this one time.

A few people walk out of a room, peaceful music emanating from the speakers inside, a far cry from the spin class I heard earlier.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand when I spot her.

She’s tall and striking, the kind of woman who commands a room. And like she feels me looking at me, her eyes land on me, narrowing, before a sly appears on her lips.

“I knew you’d come to find me,” she says, coming to stand before me. “Alexander Kimura, The Snake’s pet. Last time I saw you, you were fighting drunk men in dingy bars.”

I stop myself from spiralling into memories I keep locked away. “Avni.”

Her skin glows with a sheen of sweat, pupils dilated like she’s just done a line. “It’s been a long time. Looks like you’ve made it up the ladder. Hanging around the future Head of The Snake? Impressive.”

“I could say the same for you,” I shrug.

“Who? Trist?” She laughs once, like she truly finds that funny. “I think Rowan Vasilyev has him beat, don’t you?”

My cheeks heat at the memory of Rowan grabbing the nape of my neck and calling me Lexie in front of everyone. My body shouldn’t react to him like that anymore.

“So, what do I owe this pleasure?” She crosses her arms, her long black ponytail swishing behind her.

“Haze,” I say, figuring there’s no point in beating around the bush.

She pouts. “Aw and here I thought you just wanted to catch up.”

My mouth snaps shut. I kind of feel like a dick for not at least asking how she’s been since I last saw her.

“Relax.” She grins before a taking a sip from her water bottle. “Did Rowan send you?”

“No, we aren’t working together anymore.”

She narrows her eyes again, cocking her head to the right. “Trouble in paradise? You seemed quite cozy together.”