Suddenly, Nico looked horrified. “What’s wrong, Fidget?”
“You’re just setting me up to fail,” Nico whispered. “On purpose.”
Nico’s cheeks went pink as Mal murmured, “Precisely.”
Mal pulled the statement free from its envelope and unfolded it, scanning page after page of charges. Nico read over his shoulder.
“Damn, either this guy is into wearing women’s lingerie or he has a stable full of girlfriends. Expensive ones. Five grand at Agent Provocateur. Three grand at Kiki de Montparnasse. Holy shit. Nine grand at La Perla?” Nico cried. “Is he really blowing through this kind of money? Look at this shit. Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton. Kiton. Berluti. How much does this guy get paid?”
“No idea,” Mal said, shaking his head. “What do we do now?”
“Fuck it,” Nico said. “Let’s go talk to him. It’s not like he can say no.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you want me to feed you and Calliope said he’s at a restaurant in the Pearl River District,” Mal said, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend.
Nico batted his lashes at him. “It’s your job to take care of me,” he reminded. “Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”
Mal sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this—or any other—argument for the rest of his life. “Okay, sure. Let’s go.”
The trip took longer, but forty minutes later, they stood outside the restaurant where Jason’s phone had pinged. The name was in Chinese, which only seemed to excite Nico more. He was wiggling beside Mal like an excited puppy.
It was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment within walking distance to the market. Inside was clean but a little shoddy, like it hadn’t gotten an update since it opened. The tables were wornand the chairs appeared a bit wobbly, but it smelled incredible. Even Mal’s stomach growled. The moment they entered, Nico immediately began whining and held his stomach like he hadn’t eaten in years.
Mal rolled his eyes. “Go order something,” he said, handing over his wallet.
While Nico was at the counter, Mal wandered over to a woman in the corner, who was folding tiny little pieces of dough into crescent shapes. “We need to speak to Jason. Is he around?”
The woman stopped what she was doing, looking Mal up and down, like she was sizing him up. “Who are you?” she asked, her accent thick.
“I’m Mal.” He pointed over his shoulder. “That’s Nico. We’ve been sent by the Dai Lo to discuss something with him.”
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but at the mention of the Dai Lo, the woman jerked to her feet and bolted into the back. Mal wasn’t sure if she was going to find Jason or if she was making a run for it, so he just went to stand in line with Nico, hoping for the best. Once Nico had ordered, Mal led him to a four-person table near the window.
Nico’s food arrived just as a man emerged from the back. While the Dai Lo looked like he belonged on the cover ofVanity Fair, Jason very much looked like the villain in one of Mal’s web comics. He wore black trousers and an ugly yellow shirt with a garish black pattern on it. He had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and lots of ink, where his skin was visible. He looked…slimy, like he was trying to look intimidating.
“Jason?” Mal asked as he approached.
“Who’s asking?” Before Mal could answer, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you must be that mechanic’s kid.” He pointed at the numerous bruises on Mal’s face. “I see you got my message.”
Mal snorted. “You’re lucky my boss didn’t want me to send a reply.”
Jason gave him a baleful stare. “It was just a misunderstanding. We thought you had information we needed.”
“We?” Mal countered.
“Mm,” he said, noncommittal. “I’m assuming you’re here to ask me about her?”
“Yeah,” Nico said, stuffing rice and vegetables into his mouth, chewing aggressively. After a moment, he moaned, rolling his eyes, like he was experiencing something transcendent. He jabbed the chopsticks in Jason’s direction. “This food is amazing,” he said, his tone accusatory.
Jason snorted but seemed to relax a bit. “What did you want to ask that was so important you had to get Leo’s daddy involved?”
“We wanted to ask some questions about Amy,” Mal said.
“Yeah, we established that. If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t have sent my men to…askyou, would I?” he said, his tone implying they were both clearly idiots.
“That’s not what we wanted to ask about,” Mal assured him. “We heard a rumor that someone was harassing Amy a few months ago, bad enough that Leo had to step in.”
Mal wasn’t going to bring up the diary. He didn’t want to spook him into clamming up.
