The Love Of Money - S02 E200

Story 1 month ago

The Love Of Money - S02 E200

Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 200

***

Wednesday, October 2nd, 11:02 am

“Do you think they will show?” I asked, glancing around the other patrons of Hannover Lane—one of the more popular coffee shops in Times Square.

“I have no idea,” Helen said.

“Nope,” Erin said simultaneously.

Both of us looked at Erin.

“They’re both convinced you’re out to kill them,” Erin explained. “I don’t care where you agree to meet, you’re not seeing their faces without some serious incentive.”

“You would think my offer to hand over Ryo would be some serious incentive.”

“I mean… it’s a start. Maybe if you handed over Carla, too.”

“No,” I said.

“Boss…”

“I’m not letting that asshole kill Carla.”

“I get it. She’s a smokeshow—”

“That’s not it.”

Erin side-eyed me.

“She’s here,” Helen said.

I followed my gaze over to see Sachiko approaching with a single man behind her—a six-and-a-half-foot tall man built like a brick wall. He wore wraparound sunglasses that hadn’t been in style since the mid-2000s, and the way he walked, keeping his right side clear and available, suggested that he was carrying some kind of weapon.

Thanks to Chloe for teaching me those interesting little tricks.

Fashion-wise, Sachiko was on point. Her coat—brushed charcoal wool, tailored to her waist and cut just long enough to make you guess what was underneath. Under it, the soft shimmer of a cream silk blouse caught the light when she turned her head It had a Mandarin collar with no buttons showing. A rust and teal scarf was draped loosely around her neck as if she had put it on as an afterthought

Her pants were wide-leg, black, and crisp as hell. Polished loafers with no heel… because why would she need the height?

There was minimal jewelry— a platinum watch, pearl stud earrings, and no rings.

Her glossy black hair was swept back into a low chignon. Lipstick a deep berry shade, graced her lips. She dressed like a woman who could close a deal, or ruin your afternoon plans with a flirtatious smile and a flick of whatever was holding her hair up.

Fuck. I should’ve worn a better jacket.

“Goddamn,” Erin said under her breath, and I knew exactly what she meant.

I couldn’t blame her—the understated sexuality was palpable. Quite the difference from the last time we met. Obviously, someone told her that my libido was my greatest weakness.

After my conversation with Chandler on Saturday morning, followed by another one that lasted most of the day on Sunday, I called Sachiko that evening and asked her to meet with me in person. I didn’t want to risk anyone other than her hearing what I had to say. She reluctantly agreed when I told her that I had an offer for her that she’d be a fool not to consider but said she wouldn’t be available until Wednesday.

It had been an agonizing two days of pacing, more conversations with Chandler, and the anticipation that Reynolds could show up at my house at any moment with a warrant for my arrest. It hadn’t happened, but I felt like a man bound to a guillotine, waiting for the razor’s edge to fall.

And now that Wednesday was here, my intestines felt like they’d been tied into knots that a sailor would have a hard time with.

“Don’t get up,” Sachiko said as I started to rise from my seat. Her companion’s hand seemed to hover dangerously close to whatever was concealed under his jacket.

The daughter of Hiro Tanaka scanned the area and then approached, her bodyguard staying a few feet back.

“Where is your security?” she asked, her dark eyes settling on me.

“Like yours,” I said. “Around.”

“I would prefer to see all parties here.”

“You first,” I said.

“My bodyguard is right here.”

“Sachiko, I’m tired. I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off, catching spinning plates while the sky is falling. I don’t have time for games. You probably have a whole squadron of guys trying to find my guys—same as me. Can we just accept that neither of us is here to kill the other so we can sit down and have this fucking meeting?”

The youngest Tanaka arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me and then sat down.

“Thank you.”

“That was a lot of metaphors in one sentence,” she mused.

“Really? Because it didn’t feel like enough to describe how I’m feeling right now.”

“I tried to warn you,” Sachiko said. “My father is not a forgiving man.”

“You did,” I admitted, “and I didn’t listen, so I’m here to make a deal.”

“Before that can happen,” Sachiko said, “I need to know my brother is alive.”

“Of course.” I picked my phone up and dialed Ryo’s number. One of Psalter’s goons answered.

“Could you show us Ryo?” I asked him, flashing the screen at Sachiko. Erin, who was sitting between the two of us and across from Helen at the square table, leaned toward Sachiko to get a better view of the screen.

Being the cool, classy lady that she was, Helen remained where she was, taking a sip of her coffee and looking mildly disinterested.

Sachiko’s dark eyes flashed up to me. “I’ll need better proof than this. It could be recorded footage.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, turning the phone so I could see it. Ryo was currently tied to a chair. He looked tired, but other than that, relatively well cared-for.

“What do you want as proof?” I asked her.

“Can he hold up today’s newspaper?” Sachiko asked.