by Staci Hart
Kat unlocked the safety. “Time’s up.”
“Wait! Kat, wait,” Kiki screamed.
Kat’s eyes shot over to Kiki, then back to Eric. His eyes bore into her as it finally clicked, and he stepped toward the door. Kat side-stepped in the opposite direction to where her sister lay, tracking Eric across the room with her gun.
He stopped in the doorway, face shrouded in shadows, his dark silhouette framed by the night. “This isn’t over,” he said.
“It better fucking be. You come back, and you’re dead. She won’t save you from me again.”
He stood in silence, hands clenched, the muscles in his arms rippling when he gripped and released, waiting for what felt like ages before slipping into the night.
Kat’s stared at the empty space where Eric had been long after she heard his car rumble away, mind racing and palms sweating as the nose of her gun trembled, still aimed and waiting for him to come back. Kiki broke the silence with a sob, and Kat turned to her.
Kiki’s ponytail hung half out, with loose strands that fell down around her shoulders. Kat was certain that he had dragged her by it, and she ran her hand over her sister’s tangled hair and bloodied, bruised face.
“Shhh. It’s okay,” Kat whispered. Kiki’s ragged breath shuddered as she sobbed and curled into Kat, who glanced back at the open door, rocking her sister as she made a promise.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
A few hours later, Kat shifted the gears of her Camaro as they sped through the night, the desert stretching out in every direction around them. She looked over at Kiki, who sat curled up in the passenger seat with her forehead pressed against the glass, staring out at nothing.
“How long will it take us to get to New York?” Kiki’s hollow voice startled Kat. Neither of them had spoken for hours.
“I’m thinking about three days. Maybe a little over two, if we drive straight through. We should have enough of a head start on Eric that we can stop so I can sleep, if you don’t feel like driving.”
“He’s not going to follow us.”
Kat’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “He better not, or he’s dead. Seriously fucking dead.”
Kiki turned to Kat, her eyes wet, the slit of her swollen eye brimming. “Stop it. Please.”
Kat took a heavy breath, wishing she could let out the pressure, wishing she could scream or yell, tell Kiki how she really felt. That she was sorry it had happened. That she was scared it wasn’t over. She was wound so tight after everything that had gone down, but she couldn’t vent. She wouldn’t vent, wouldn’t do anything to make the ordeal any worse for Kiki than it already was. “He’s had fair warning. If he comes after you, someone’s not leaving alive.”
“I know,” she whispered and laid her head on the window again. “It’s not that I don’t want him to leave us alone, but how can I live with myself if I’m the reason that he’s killed?”
Kat’s heart was a rock in her chest. “I get it. I was almost the one who killed him.” She paused. “Kiki, what happened?”
Kiki shifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “Everything was fine, at first. You remember we were together all the time in the beginning?”
“Yeah, I remember.” She looked ahead at the road where her headlights cut wedges in the dark and onto the pavement.
“I thought he was clingy because it was new. But once the newness wore off, I tried to get back to my life, but he squeezed tighter. And then … I don’t know. He started to get weird. Angry. Possessive. I’d been planning on breaking up with him for a while, but I didn’t know how he would react. I guess I got my answer.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was pretty sure you would flip out.”
Kat felt herself smile, though the act held no joy. “I probably would have. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me.”
“It’s okay, Kat.” She stared out the window. “You would have been right.”
The sisters sat in silence for a moment before Kat spoke. “You know that if Dad finds out about this, he won’t stop until Eric pays in full.”
Kiki wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s the Yakuza way. I don’t even want to think about it.”
Kat stared out at the road, contemplating that. Their father was a Yakuza waka gashira, the right hand of a big boss in the Japanese mafia. And, he would do anything for his daughters, including flaying any man who hurt them. Given Eric’s crime, his punishment would be extreme. And extreme for Yakuza was straight up terrifying.
“We’ll figure it out, Kiki. I’ll call Dad in the morning and let him know we’re coming.”
Kiki turned to her, her body tense. “What are you going to tell him?”
“Obviously not the truth. I’ll tell him we just wanted a change of scenery. That Vegas got old.”
“Is he going to buy that?”
“Probably not. He won’t press it, but he’ll be digging around to find out. All we can do is try to cover our asses, which means he can’t see you until your face has healed. And as for Dad finding out otherwise … Eric’s a dumbshit, but he’s not stupid enough to tell anyone what happened, not knowing who our father is. You and I aren’t going to tell anyone. If it’s just between the three us, I don’t see how Dad will find out what he did.”
“What about Mom?”
“I’m going to call her tomorrow, too. I think we can tell her the truth, and I think we have to. There’s no way she’ll believe that we split town in the middle of the night without saying goodbye for no reason. She’s not going to tell Dad. Out of anyone, she’s the one person who would understand you not wanting him dead.”
Kiki nodded. “I should be the one to call her. I’ll tell her. You handle Dad.”
“Okay.” Kat glanced at Kiki, then back at the road. “I know you don’t think Eric will follow us, but I’m going to have a couple of people who run in our circles let me know if he leaves town or if he starts asking around about us. If he makes a move, we tell Dad. If he’s going to do something sinister, he’ll drive. Otherwise he won’t be able to cover his tracks. We should have a few days lead on him.”
“If you tell people to watch him, won’t that tip them off that he had something to do with us leaving? If Dad asks around, he could find out.”
“There’s no way around it. Dad will probably find out it had something to do with Eric, but he won’t know what. And once it’s been long enough, I’m hoping everyone just fucking drops it.”
Kiki ran her thumb over her swollen lip. “We’re going to need jobs, unless you’re going to race.”
Kat shook her head, her heart heavy. “I can’t race. If I race, there’s too much of a chance that someone will recognize me and get back to Eric. You know how bookies love to gossip, and I stand out a little too much.” Kat wasn’t sure how she would handle not racing. When everything else was out of her hands, racing would center her. It was the one thing she could control. Not having that would be the hardest part of the whole mess.
Kiki half smiled. “Bartending?”
Kat chuckled. “What bar owner worth his salt wouldn’t hire two half-Japanese sisters with green eyes?”
“Zero-point-zero. What about a place to live?”
“I’m sure that Dad will set something up. Likely something a little extravagant. Hopefully something with a garage. Otherwise, where the fuck am I parking Sheila in New York City?”
Kiki laughed, but the smile never reached her eyes. “Good point.”
Kat laid a hand on her sister’s hand. “It’s going to be all right, Kiki. One way or another, it’s going to be all right.”
Kiki sighed, the sound heavy. “Coming from anyone else, that wouldn’t make me feel better. But from you? I have to believe it’s true.”
They sped off into the night. To what, Kat didn’t know. But she’d do whatever it took to keep Kiki safe.
Kat flipped the bottle cap over and held it flat between her thumb and ring finger. She snapped, and th
e cap flew across the room, hitting the label on a bottle of Canadian Club with a gratifying tink.
They’d been in New York for over a month and hadn’t heard from Eric. Kat really hoped it was over, but she didn’t know if she would never stop looking over her shoulder for him. She didn’t know when she’d be able to rest. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was Kiki.
She thought about telling her father, as she had a hundred times. He could end it all with a phone call, and Kat could be free again. But she couldn’t betray Kiki. She’d even considered asking Kiki to tell him, but she didn’t want to have that argument again. Kiki was still in denial about Eric. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wouldn’t come. But Kat didn’t want to let her guard down for a second. She had a bad feeling that if she did, he would surprise them all.
Kat picked up the inventory clipboard that hung on the wall and turned to the bottles lining the shelves, hoping that by the time she finished counting the rum, Dillon would be gone. She smiled to herself, imagining the look on his face when she smoked him on the quarter. And that single thought made her feel loads better.
———— Olympus ————
Ares sat low on his black leather couch, legs open as he played video games, when he heard the elevator ping. He hit pause and looked over his shoulder. Heels clicked on the entryway floors and his heart skipped. “Dita?” he called.
His mother turned the corner, her blue eyes narrowed, her red lips in a tight line. “No, it most certainly is not.” Hera’s blond hair was perfectly coiffed, but she still ran a hand over it to be sure.
Ares tossed his remote onto the couch. “Hello, Hera.”
She clipped into the room and sat primly in a deep red leather armchair, her back straight and stiff. “Please, call me Mother, Mom, or some other respectful term. It’s truly one of the few things I ask of you.” She rested her elbow on the arm and crossed her ankles, the curve of her waist bending her body in an elegant angle. She looked like a fashion model from the fifties.
“Yes, Mother.” Ares smirked at her.
“That’s better. I don’t care if it’s been dozens of centuries. I never want you to stop calling me Mother.” She smoothed out her navy pencil skirt. “Tell me your plan for the competition. How is it coming along?”
Ares threaded his fingers behind his head. “Dandy.”
She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.
“I’ve got players all over the board. And I’ve got this under control.”
“What exactly are your plans? Forgive me, my sweet, but you have never been the strategist of the family. That title belongs to Athena.”
He huffed at the insult. Ares and Athena, his sister, were constantly fighting, and he could never beat her. Not at games, not at wars, not even at arguments. It was maddening. “Well, I have Dillon, who can’t seem to keep his fat mouth closed long enough for Dita to have a chance. And then I’ve got the ex-boyfriend, Eric, who’s been a raging mess since Kiki left him. All I have to do is let him loose if I really want to win.”
“Eric will be the key. You can control him. He’s dangerous and explosive. Watch him, and use him when the moment is right.” Hera smirked. “Oh, Aphrodite would not be pleased. I love this plan.”
“She would definitely not be pleased. Which is why I don’t know if I’ll use him.”
Hera’s hand paused on the cuff of her sky blue blouse. “Excuse me?”
“If I lead Eric to the girls, he’ll kill them. I’ll win the competition, but I’ll lose Dita.”
She stared at him. “I still don’t understand what the problem is.”
“I have a chance to get her back, and I’m going to take it.” He changed the subject, hoping she would follow and not put up a fight. The last thing he needed was to burn his bridge to Hera. He would need her. “So I saw your groupies in action.”
She eyed him and took the lead. “Jessica is an amusing distraction. I’m sure she and her little friends will stir the pot without me needing to interfere. I’ve been whispering in their ears for so long that it’s become their nature.” Hera’s long legs scissored when she crossed them, shifting in her chair. “You’ll at least try to win?”
“Of course I’ll try to win. I just don’t want to kill anybody.”
One very blond, arched eyebrow lifted.
“Okay, maybe I want to kill some people, but I’m going to try not to,” he conceded.
“Well, you have plenty of my tokens, should you need any help. Do you have any others?”
Ares unclasped his fingers and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have a few, but I seriously doubt anyone else will help me. I’m not exactly the golden boy.”
“No, that title belongs to Apollo, as infuriating at it is. Your father and his illegitimate children. It’s all Aphrodite’s fault. She has crossed me more times than I care to consider,” Hera ranted and tugged at the cuff of her tailored shirt again.
“She’s not trying to get to you. She’s trying to get to Zeus.”
“Well, it’s ineffective. It only affects me. Does she honestly think that he would be opposed to sleeping with any and everything that struck his fancy?” She glared, and he shook his head.
“What affects him is your wrath, Mother.”
Her face relaxed, with the exception of that same solitary eyebrow, and she lifted her chin. “Well, I suppose that is something to be afraid of.” Hera popped open her purse and dug through it for her lipstick and a small mirror. “What do you expect from Aphrodite?”
He smirked. What he expected from Dita was hardly appropriate to talk about with his mother. “She’s gotten the younger siblings interested in each other, so she may try to use them to keep Kat and Dillon around each other, give them time to warm up. But Dillon is a land mine. If I set him off, he’ll wreck everything Dita has built. I just need to time it right.”
She ran her lipstick over her lips and pressed them together. “If she’s using the siblings, perhaps we should try to keep them apart.”
Ares ran his hand over his mouth and leaned forward. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “And how do you suggest we do that? I don’t have any ideas about what we could do to stop them, aside from using Eric, and I have to save him until I need him, if I use him at all. He’s my last grenade. I don’t have any influence on Kiki or Owen. They aren’t aggressive or prone to fighting, not even arguing. You don’t have much influence over them, either. They’re not jealous types, and they’re not proud, either.”
“No, but we have all of New York to choose from if we want to create a diversion. My powers are more divisive than yours. Yours are merely destructive. Even though that has its place, darling,” she added a little hastily as she snapped her mirror closed. “How about Jessica?”
Ares rubbed his chin. “What about her? She’s all about Dillon.”
“What if one of them were to try to make Dillon jealous? And what if the nearest object of affection was Owen? And what if Kiki saw this happen? Perhaps we could fan Dillon’s anger a bit while we’re at it. He could get very angry if Owen is hurt somehow.”
One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Do you think it would work?”
“It’s worth finding out, unless you have a better idea.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Her cool eyes assessed him. “Do you think you can beat her?”
“I usually don’t. But this time … well, there’s a possibility.” The thought of beating her was too much to resist. He hated losing, especially to her. She owned him in competitions, but he’d much prefer to own her. In all ways.
“Well,” Hera dropped her mirror and lipstick into her clutch, “let me know what I can do to help. Just don’t tell your father. He hates to hear that you and I are scheming.”
Ares rolled his eyes. “Fucking Zeus.”
“Oh, darling. He won’t hurt you. Not with me around.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not worried about him hurting me. And I don’t need prote
ction from you.”
“Tsk, Ares, don’t be angry. I only meant that you needn’t be concerned if he finds out that we are scheming. I’m practically the only one who has any sway over Zeus. I’ll take care of him.”
Ares looked out of his window. He lived his entire life in Zeus’ shadow, never meeting his expectations and constantly being humiliated for it. Ares had tried to rise up only to be shoved back down. When he was a boy, he stupidly believed that he could win his father’s favor, his love, but nothing he’d ever done was ever enough for Zeus.
Ares ran through the marble halls of old Olympus as only a giddy boy would: sliding through the corridors on his sandals. The blood on his hands dripped from his fingers in a soft pat, pat, pat, a crimson trail on the white stone floors.
He sped into the bright living area of their family quarters. The open walls led to a covered balcony, and Greece stretched out in the distance. Potted Cypress trees ran the length of the columned balcony like spears. Zeus sat at a grand stone desk reading a scroll, his massive frame filling the chair behind it. He looked up, and his gray eyes sparked. A shadow passed across his face, and his lips dropped into a frown.
“Ares, what is it now?” Zeus’ eyes traveled down to Ares’ hands. “Is that … blood?”
“Father,” Ares tried to stand tall and strong, but he was practically bouncing. “A crowd gathered at your temple in Olympia today, and one of the Grecians—”
Ares’ eyes snapped to Athena as she glided in from an antechamber, her white robes flowing around her with her chin high. She stood behind Zeus with her gray eyes on Ares and a small, condescending smile playing on her lips. Ares scowled at her.
Zeus’ brow furrowed as he set the scroll down. “Well?”
Ares glared at Athena, then turned his attention back to his father, his smile creeping back onto his face. He stood a bit taller, his chest high. “They defiled your statue, and I punished them in your name.”
The room dimmed, the rolling thunder filling Ares’ ears, and his smile fell. Athena’s stretched wider.
