Crimson Footprints lll: The Finale (8 page)

Chapter Twenty

Tony woke to humidity, to sunlight, and to the absence of his pants and Lila’s shirt.

“What do you mean, ‘they’re gone?’” he said.

Lila swept the vicinity with her gaze. Sure enough, his shirt lie where he’d left it, alongside her jeans, but no sign other clothes remained.

“Stop playing around, Lila.” The sound of laughter too close burned a hole in chest to his belly. “My family’s out there. You need to put on your clothes and leave.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Didn’t I tell you they’re gone?”

In that night, her body seemed glorious, perfected with sensuous mounds. Now it stared back at him, like the banner heralding a hellish nightmare.

Tony rose and searched the vicinity.

“They are gone,” he said.

“It’s a joke,” Lila said. “Someone obviously stumbled onto us at some point. Whether it was when we were…you know, or later. Either way, they made off with some clothes.”

He didn’t want to tell her how many possible culprits there were. He had loads of cousins in the house, anyone who might have sought out a good laugh. Even Uncle John or Mike might have pulled something like this, tormenting him for their own brand of enjoyment.

He could spend days interrogating suspects.

He wanted to pray. Pray to God and Buddha and Jesus and Muhammad and the six-limbed Lord Shiva.

The best he could do was hope to pass off his boxers as swim trunks, leave Lila in the bushes like the bare chested Eve to his Adam, and hope to find her shirt, quick. After that, the hard part began.

Tony took a deep breath and started off toward the house, weaving through the garden as far as it would take him. When he got to the end, his cousins Remy and Lloyd were waiting.

“You should have told us there was a party last night,” Lloyd said. “Leaving me in the room like that wasn’t nice.”

“Yeah,” Remy chimed in. “And you know the first rule of bro-dom. It ain’t no fun, if the homies can’t have none.”

“Gimmie the clothes. Give me her shirt, at least. You don’t want the kids to see her, do you?”

Remy grinned. “No, we want to see her.”

“Be serious,” Tony snapped. But he looked from one to the other, certainty dimming with each second.

“She’s this way right?” Lloyd said and took toward the garden. “We’ll keep her company while you find clothes.”

Tony shoved him the chest.

“Stop fucking around!”

But in the time it took for him to shove Lloyd, Remy was already cutting through the trees. He couldn’t stop both of them. Lloyd, who was older, taller, and stronger, could floor Tony and step over him. What could he do? What could he do?

Tony saw him in the distance. In fear, hurt, anxiety, he’d come to rely on the name.

“Dad!” he yelled. “Dad, hurry! Come! I need some help!”

Lloyd took off, followed by Remy, who kicked the hidden clothes out from under a bush. So, by the time his father arrived, it was just him, Tony, and a half-naked girl.

Punishment. He didn’t need to be told.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mike set scotch, vodka, rum, tequila, gin, and triple sec on the counter. Tak, who had never known that his cousin moonlighted as a bartender in college, sat back to watch him work. Five glasses sat on the countertop, each filled with exacting portions. As Mike worked, he whistled.

“Let’s play spades,” Kenji said. “I feel like humbling somebody.”

Mike came around to dole out drinks as they sorted out the teams, Tak and Tyson versus Kenji and Ken.

Tak drew the high card and shuffled the deck. Almost immediately, Kenji reached over and cut, earning a glare from his brother. Tak dealt, pausing only for a sip of scotch.

“This is bullshit,” he said.

Kenji snorted.

In truth, Tak had a stellar hand, but it did little to lift his mood. Between Tony’s antics, Deena’s secrets, and not knowing how to feel about Mike, crassness came easy.

Tak stole a glance at Tyson, trying to read the tea leaves in his face. His partner offered a secret smile then looked down at his cards. Good, at least had a decent hand.

“Kenji,” Asami’s husband Ken said. “How’s the shoulder holding up? I saw the game when it blew out, you know. Pretty rough by the look of it.”

“The team doctor says the shoulder’s garbage,” Kenji admitted. “Surgery’s set for next week.”

He tossed a card and claimed the ones beneath, earning a curse from his brother.

“Team doctor,” Ken said. “And Tak with this unbelievable house. You two are more glamour than I can stand. How did you come across this find, anyway?”

“Right place at the right time,” Tak said. “The owner was looking to sell.”

“And you just happened upon that?” Ken was looking at him now.

“You could say that,” Tak tossed out a card and claimed the pile. “The owner’s name was Brent Everclear. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

Ken snorted. “Next you’ll ask me if I’ve heard of the Super Bowl.”

Once upon a time, Brent Everclear had been the star quarterback for the New England Patriots. Two rings had been earned under his watch, thanks to a cannon of an arm. Tak looked up to find Mike studying him.

“Isn’t that who Aubree Daniels married?”

Kenji snapped to attention.

“Mike, I don’t think you should—”

“It’s cool,” Tak said and glanced at his cousin. “Yes, that’s who Aubree married.”

“Who’s she?” Ken said.

“An old cheerleader and Tak’s ex,” Mike said.

“You boys must lead exciting lives,” Ken said. “Professional athlete. Unorthodox wife. Cheerleaders. Rivers of wealth.”

“Ken,” Tak warned. Aunt’s husband or not, he’d watch his damned mouth.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Ken said. “Envy is what you’re hearing.” He chased the words with liquor. “I mean, women must fling themselves at you both. Oh, to be one of you.” His eyebrows did a little dance before he nudged Tyson enthusiastically.

“I guess,” Tyson muttered.

“Listen,” Tak said. “We’re not about to—”

“Top me off, would you, kiddo?” Ken motioned at Mike with his emptied glass.

Mike rose with his eyes on Tak, who tilted his head in discreet approval. Get the drink, was what that said. Maybe they’d get to meet the real Ken.

“You’re modest,” Ken announced to no one in particular. “And it’s very Japanese, isn’t it? Death before shame. Humility and deference.” He grinned. “Except maybe for Tak.”

“What does that even mean?” Tak said.

Ken grinned. “It means you’re good looking and you make sure we know it.” He shot a somber look at Tyson. “Lock that Dixie Chick of yours up. They go crazy for this one, you know.”

“Nix that second drink,” Tak said. “Someone isn’t handling their liquor well.”

“I’m fine,” Ken said and waved Mike over, seizing the drink the second he got close.

“To the boldness of Takumi Tanaka,” he said. “And the prowess of his little brother Kenji.”

“This would be a better trip,” Ken said after a swallow, “if we were back in Miami with you two. Oh, the ladies you must have. Every blonde shade of deliciousness. And nothing turns my head faster than one of those. Cream of the crop, I’ve always thought. But the way you guys carry on,” he spread his palms wide, gesturing to Tak, Kenji, and then Mike. “I think I’m missing something.”

“Yeah. It’s called marriage to my aunt,” Tak said.

For a second, Tak was reminded of the time he punched Mike in face after taking things too far with Deena. He considered doing the same to his aunt’s husband, then figured it would make absolutely no difference.

****

Asami sat off the rotunda, legs crossed, and looking out the window. Tissue clenched in her fist and gaze on the rain, the tightness in her jaw looked severe.

This was Tak’s aunt and his domain, but Deena sat down anyway.

A few sniffs later, Asami looked her way.

“Well?” she snapped.

Deena blinked. She had never heard the woman her raise her voice.

“My husband is a bastard,” Asami announced. “He has a child. Six years younger than our daughter.”

“Are you…are you certain?”

“Of course. The child comes over some weekends. He has done so for years.”

Deena tried to imagine herself in the same position as Tak’s aunt, but she got no further than her husband having sex with another woman. Right about there was where she murdered him.

“You think I’m stupid,” Asami said.

“No, I—”

“You’d be right. I am profoundly stupid.”

This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. Deena should have been offering condolences and Asami was supposed to find comfort.

“If you’ve known this long,” Deena said. “Why are you upset now?”

Asami’s gaze drifted to the entrance of the room, before she turned her attention back to Deena.

“We fight constantly because of this. He says I need to accept things or get a divorce. I don’t want to do either.”

Him give her an ultimatum? She couldn’t pretend that any of it made sense.

“They’re not as perfect as you think,” Tak had told her. “Some are just better with masks.”

“Asami, a child by another woman must feel like a monstrous betrayal. But with counseling, perhaps, you can make peace with it.”

Someone snorted.

Deena looked up to see Aunt Caroline.

“That’s the dumbest advice I ever heard.”

Caroline sauntered through the room, weaving until she found a couch to drop onto. She did it with such force that the furniture slammed the wall, before she let out a throaty exhale.

“What you need,” Caroline said, “is to kick his ass one good time.”

“Aunt Caroline—”

“No,” Asami waved Deena off. “Let her talk.”

Caroline leaned in, satisfied.

“With the father of my oldest son, Tariq, I was the other woman and didn’t know it. I was sixteen and stupid. Too stupid to know I had no business with a grown man. Turned out the grown man was married. Didn’t want nothing to do with me nor my baby, once he got here.”

Caroline lit a Newport and took a drag.

“I beat his ass,” she said. “Beat him till he shook. And he deserved every lick of the whooping he got.”

“But you were sixteen,” Asami said. “He must have been larger than you. And stronger.”

“Yeah, but that’s just a detail, easily corrected with an equalizer and a little motivation. Which gets me to my next point. You sitting here crying. Crying ain’t nothing but feeling sorry for yourself. Kicking ass is about justice. When you feel like you need some justice, you’ll set about getting some, too.”

Asami sat up straight. She lifted first one hand, then the other, examining both the front and the back. She stood.

“Asami?” Deena said.

“Asami! Don’t do anything stupid!” Deena cried.

Tak’s aunt strode for the door.

Deena tore after her. Into the hall, with a look both ways to figure where Tak’s aunt had gone. She heard a noise and chased it to the reception room, just in time to see Asami yank a poker from the fireplace.

“Please, don’t—”

She shoved Deena aside and crossed to the billiard room.

Deena burst in just as the poker cracked into Ken’s arm, upending him, the table, and a mountain of playing cards. The men scattered.

Her husband fell to the floor in a lump, red faced, cheeks puffed, cursing, and gripping a dead arm. He said words Deena had never known and told his wife to do things she’d never thought possible. Asami lifted the poker again, but Tak sliced in with a cry of “whoa” and swept her away while in his embrace.

His hands clamped over hers as he whispered. Deena imagined they were words of calm, of encouragement. Slumped on the floor, Ken continued to curse her.

“Get him outta here before I crack his face myself,” Tak said, except it wasn’t clear who he spoke to.

Mike looked at Ken as if he were a vaguely threatening parasite, while Kenji had only one good arm to begin with. Tyson hoisted Ken up and led him out. Mike went in search of his mother and grandmother, hoping either could calm Asami.

Tyson returned sweaty, but decidedly aloof. When the women arrived for Asami, Kenji used that as a good time to leave with Mike.

“Thanks,” Tak said to Tyson. He came over and clapped him on the shoulder. “The family’s not usually this crazy but—”

“Two tours in the Middle East, remember?” Tyson shrugged. “Just glad I could do something for you.”

Deena had the feeling of invading some privacy, so she busied herself straightening the room.

“We were going to win,” Tak said, turning back to talk of the game. “I can read you. You’re cautious. You underbid, so I overbid.”

Tyson grinned wide. “That’s what Ash used to say.”

The two stood there, both on the verge of saying more. Deena excused herself so that it might be said.