Page 6 of Cunning Lies

“You told himwhat?”I gasp.

Uncle Jay smiles sheepishly at me as he leans back on the headboard. He’s puffy and blue, and I swear I want to punch those jerks myself for what they did to him.

Of course, I wouldn’t. Because if it was up to me, wewouldn’thave agreed to take on a job that targets the yakuza.

The freaking yakuza.

But what do I know? I’m just the researcher.Notthe con artist.

Patrick, my cousin, laughs. “What? It’s not like he told them you’re an aeronautical engineer.”

“But avirgin?” I ask. “Why? Is that even necessary?”

Patrick squeezes my shoulder. “You can handle it. Don’t worry, Vi.”

He walks over to the motel bathroom. I rub my shoulder until my fingers evaporate his touch, then I plop down on the edge of Uncle Jay’s bed.

“Easy for you to say,” I mumble. “You’re not marrying the guy.”

“Well,” Uncle Jay interrupts. “I guess you have to pass his test first.”

“A test? What does that mean?”

“You’re going to a gala tonight.”

“A gala?”

No one says anything after that. Uncle Jay turns on the television and a commercial about lip injections fills the room. Patrick scrubs the bristles of his toothbrush across his teeth, and Uncle Jay sinks into the pillows. His hand is so bandaged, he’s half-mummy. Uncle Jay purposefully put his arm around the yakuza lawyer’s wife, knowing it would get him closer to the big boss. But losing your finger for somethingsmalllike that is one giant red flag, and yet, we’restillpursuing this job.

“How much are we getting for this again?” I ask.

“Enough to get your dream house,” Uncle Jay says.

Dream house.That seems… fast.

“On the beach?” I check.

Patrick spits out his toothpaste. A dribble of foamy liquid drips down his chin.

“You’re eyeing that one in Santa Monica, right?” Patrick asks, our eyes locking in the mirror. “Let’s just say we can get the neighbor’s house too.”

I rub my forehead. I’m not a virgin, nor am I a con artist, but this is our biggest job yet. Why can’t the yakuza man like men? Patrick is so much better at this than I am. A sack of potatoes can lie better than me.

“And what if I don’t pass?” I ask, crossing my arms. I gesture at Uncle Jay. “What happens to you?”

He holds up his bandaged hand. “Four fingers,” he says. “We’re good.”

He gets up slowly, then comes and sits on the edge of the bed with me. In the bathroom, Patrick picks through his hair, his blond curls perfectly arranged. Uncle Jay puts an arm around me.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” he says quietly. “I tried to offer Patrick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “But we need this, Vi. This is going to change everything. And besides,” he sinks down, “I know you can do this. You only have to pretend to be a virgin until you do the deed. You can do ittonightif you want.” His blue eyes peers into mine, and there’s no way I can tell him ‘no.’ Not after everything he’s done for me. “Youcando this. Weneedyou to do this, sweetheart. For our family. Forus.”

He puts his bandaged hand on my shoulder. A shot of hatred spikes through me. It’s not like Uncle Jayhurtthe yakuza wife. He only put his arm around her, like he’s doing to me!

“But who the hell makes you cut off your own finger as punishment?”