Heaven's Crime (gxg) ✓

fourteen. an interesting and slightly deadly plan

               "A Yakuza boss," I repeat.

                Veah glances at me, smoke-and-ash eyes bright under the California sun. The airport is in our rearview mirror. The open road is in front of us.

                There is nothing keeping me here. No handcuffs. No chains.

                There is nothing stopping me from going.

                 And yet. And yet. 

                 It took me all of ten minutes to get myself caught in the grip of the Yakuza. And now that they know who I am . . . now that they want me . . . I won't last another two minutes on my own.

                 I don't want to need Veah, but I do.

                 "A Yakuza boss," she agrees, and there is the faintest flicker of her jaw. A tensing—waiting for me to ask. To question her.

                  Maybe it's everything that has happened today alone.

                  Maybe it's the kiss or the contract or the text message I just sent Cassie.

                  All I can manage is, "What's your favourite food?"

                  I see the surprise, alight in her eyes. But she doesn't press me—and truth be told, I am doubting my sanity. Out of all the things I could have asked . . . what's your favourite food? 

                  "Makizushi," she says simply. 

                  "What is that?" 

                  "It's really good," she says, sounding . . . excited. "It's rice rolled into these thin sheets of nori seaweed. You have to try it—the perfect combination of crisp skin and flavoured rice."

                   "You'll have to take me some time, then," I say.

                    Why did I say that? 

                    Her mouth forms into a smile, but she keeps her eyes on the road.

                    "You mean, like a first date?" she says.

                    "No, like a second one," I say. "I thought getting chased by a horde of angry Japanese mobsters was already our first?"

                     A laugh slips out of her. "Then you must think I'm a real romantic."

                     "I do, believe me." Softer.

                      Her eyes slide to mine in the rearview mirror. Her full mouth is curved into a delicious grin, an unspoken promise in the air.

                      The tension between us grows blisteringly hot. My cheeks turn warm.

                       And then I scream, "Look out!"

                       Veah swerves the car just in time to avoid a truck barreling towards us—I am thrown towards the dashboard—the headlights flare, tires screeching against concrete—

                       "That would have been the second car accident I had with you!" I gasp. The seatbelt strap digs into my chest.

                       To no one's surprise, Veah seems entirely too calm. In control.

                        "Why are you not freaking out right now?" I demand.