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yeah?”
    Her face looks drawn, her wide, lamp-like eyes down-turned, lashes whispering against her cheeks.
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    But I really do. Could her dad have been involved with Devlin Sullivan? She obviously is on the take for the gang, whether or not she knows about it. Perhaps her dad has something to do with it. But I gotta take it slow, get her to trust me. So I can learn more about her store, who’s on the other end of that landline phone. Take a look at her books, tap her phone, her laptop, her contacts.
    I’m a pushy guy. But I can’t push too fast. Can’t lose this lead.
    “Hey,” I say, putting all jokes aside, injecting as much sincerity as I can into my voice. I put a light hand on her shoulder, in what I hope is a bracing way.
    Sincerity isn’t really my forte.
    “Wanna get Sushi Mizu? C’mon.”
    She inhales, and her exhale is just a little bit shaky under my hand. Then she blinks up at me with eyes that are like two green search beams.
    “Why the fuck not,” she says, and laughs a little.
    I’m in.

4
    April
    O kay , my scare-him-off-by-shooting-targets-in-the-balls strategy has obviously backfired.
    Horrendously.
    I don’t understand, it’s always been effective in the past. Men usually find it really off-putting. Alan hated it when I went to the range. He is against guns of any sort, but being a lawyer, I guess that makes sense.
    There were so many little things I used to think were endearing, little details that I thought only I knew, things I loved him for , instead of in spite of. The little things that made me think he was mine.
    I was so wrong.
    Gotta stop thinking about Alan. Especially because I knew, even after we got engaged, that it wasn’t going to last. I knew he wasn’t “the one”. I was just tired of waiting. Afraid no one else would ever come along. I think, sometimes, I’m more upset at the embarrassment of having to admit that mistake than of losing the relationship in the first place.
    See, this is why I shouldn’t be going out on dates, and why I should be scaring Liam off, not egging him on. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to relationships.
    But after some target practice, he seems even more interested than ever, teasing and smiling and making me tease and smile back, even when I try not to. I should have guessed he’d know how to handle firearms himself, just look at him, all those corded muscles, and tattoos. I’ve figured some of them out now — like the one of a black star and sunbeam crawling up the back of his neck. His tattoos feature quite a few stars, and barred across it, gorgeous blocks of light blue and red, with curling vines and what almost look like thorny dandelions. Perched along a shoulder blade I can see the edge of a gorgeously rendered crow.
    I really know how to pick ‘em.
    For some reason, it’s hard to keep my guard up when I’m around him. Like when I mentioned learning to shoot from dad.
    Why I know how to shoot is a complicated question. How my dad is involved in my work is a complicated question. And in my day-to-day life I try not to think about it, thank you very much, and I don’t like to be reminded. I don’t want to talk about how I haven’t seen him in almost a year, that he’s been in “Mexico” on “business,” but that I’m not sure where he really is. That I’m afraid for him, and every once in a while, of him, and I don’t know how to reconcile that with what a caring father he was when we lost my mom.
    Not exactly first date material. Not that this is a date.
    But when Liam starts asking, I can’t really help it. I just shut down, and there’s tears again, and I feel so small. And a part of me thinks, good. Maybe this will put an end to this bizarre, stupid day that I never should have agreed to. And another part of me just feels incredibly vulnerable.
    When Liam lay an uncertain hand on my shoulder, like he wasn’t sure what to do but wanted to help, he seemed to say the