Page 105 of Collateral Claim

But if there’s anything Endo is great at, it’s making people think whatever he wants them to think. It looks like he’s not paying attention, but I know better than that. He’s hyperawareof every person around him. I’m sure he hates the fact that Wilfred hugged me.

Maybe I’m annoyed that Endo hasn’t shot him.

Who am I?

“There you are, gorgeous,” Massio says as he approaches the table. He sweeps me into his arms. I can do nothing but hang on as he lifts me off my feet. My front brushes against his erection, and the moment he puts me down, I struggle not to throw up on him.

His malicious smile tells me he made me feel his hardness on purpose. This is an evil man, the kind of man who hurts women. I wonder how many of these women have been hurt by him or the people with him. Does Wilfred hurt them too? Does my dad? Oh God. My imagination will only make things worse.

I try to push away my imaginings as we get seated, but I fail. Everywhere I look are signs of abuse. Bruises, empty gazes, tattoos on their toes.

A pair of breasts wrapped in a sheer bathing suit brushes my shoulder.

The woman leans over the table and pours white wine for my dad. She ought to be pouring from his side, but when his appreciative gaze finds her breasts, I understand why she’s serving him this way.

“Why do these women all have the same tattoo on their toes?” comes out of my mouth. The moment it does, I regret it. I regret it because my dad chuckles in that evil way that tells me he is enjoying my discomfort.

“For the same reason you have a hickey. They’re owned.”

My dad is a skilled conversationalist. He damn well knew I would not be okay with this setting, and he didn’t care. Why should I care that I came to lunch with hickeys on my neck? His opinion of me shouldn’t matter. I struggle against seeking hisapproval. These are childhood wounds I wish antibiotics could heal.

My father orchestrated everything. He exploited Massio’s hatred of Endo to get rid of Endo. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

I can’t take back what I asked, but I have to take care not to stir the pot more because volatile men with guns are eating at the table. This isn’t some debate I can have with reasonable people who would argue their points and try to find solutions. This world is different. Anything you say can get you killed on the spot.

“Massio owns them,” my dad answers without a sliver of emotion.

This is not the reunion I hoped for. I’m not sure if I want to go back. Actually, I’m sure I don’t. I’ll take up Endo on his advice to leave for my assignment early. I’ll pack my stuff and go the same day I get home, and go see Charlotte and Beatrice.

“How does one come to own a woman?” I’m sure my rage shows on my face. I can feel the heat crawling up my chest and my neck.

“I don’t own them, per se,” Massio says. “I own their debts. Mostly their families’ debts. When the men in their lives can’t pay what they owe me, they offer me their women.”

“Except the women aren’t theirs to trade.”

Massio shrugs. “They’re free to leave.”

“In a coffin?” I prompt.

He snickers. “I wouldn’t commission a coffin.”

Massio implies the body would simply be discarded. I open my mouth to tell him off when Wilfred interjects.

“Wine?” Wilfred pours me a glass.

He shouldn’t have poured before I answered. “No, thank you.”

“Endo?” he asks.

Endo shakes his head.

“Have a drink,” Massio says. “I ordered Emily for later. But I see you have another favorite now.”

I regret the way my head whips to the right and how I glare at Endo’s profile. He doesn’t blink when he says, “You can send Emily.”

Under the table, I pinch his thigh.

Endo grabs my hand and squeezes it.