Kia Ora...

It's hard to believe that in less than a fortnight I will be the mother of a twenty-one year old! We always talk about time flying by faster the older you get, and it's never more clearer that it does as you watch your children grow.

Updates

Flex (Golden Decks Casino 1): As you can see I have not managed to finish this story by the end of the month, and it is most definitely not a novella. So far the story is sitting at 24k words and should hit at least 40k by the time it's finished.

Deadly Gifts (Tokyo Nights 3): Currently sitting at 23k and with several bodies already littering the streets of Shinjuku as well as a few more surprises that I can't talk about... spoilers. At the moment I think a release date of early June is achievable.

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1)

Warnings: Murder, Graphic Violence, Yoshitake has way to much fun at another's expense.

Chapter Seven

Situated on the outskirts of Ibaraki where the town boundary butted against that of Minoo which was still in Shirokawa-gumi control, the dilapidated warehouse had become the go to place to bring men like Fujita. Blood stained its concrete floors, mingling with the decade’s old layers of rust, dirt and oil until the colour red was barely discernible. Shelving that had once been used to store product as it was checked before being sent out to the sellers on the streets now lay in a crumpled heap of twisted metal and they too were stained in blood. Bodies impaled on them, waiting to be deposited in the nearby forest far from prying eyes.

But today’s body wouldn’t be joining the countless he’d been forced to bury in the forest. No, Yoshitake had a far better plan for Fujita’s corpse. Needed the man to help stoke the chaotic energy tearing what remained of the Shirokawa-gumi apart after Takeshi had surprisingly quelled the unrest with a couple of carefully thrown knives.

He stepped out the vehicle, waved it off and strode across the gravel toward the shaft of light coming from under the warehouse door. Excitement buzzed in his veins unlike anything he’d experienced before and Yoshitake knew it had little to do with the prospect of killing, but of the young man waiting for him back in Suita. And it was only a pity he needed to clean the blood from his hands when he left here. Yoshitake wanted nothing more than to smear it over Takeshi’s skin and watch the colourful ink decorating it disappear. Wanted to thread his bloodied hands through Takeshi’s hair, grasping it tight while the man knelt before him desperate and begging…

Not today.

He had other plans for Takeshi.

But first Yoshitake had to deal with Fujita.

“Boss,” Tomu greeted him, a familiar sinister smile on his face. “The other matter has been handled too. Battered, but no injuries…though I can’t say that for our men, but nothing too serious.”

Yoshitake nodded. “And he-” jerking his head in the direction of Fujita “-provided no problems?”

“No, Boss. It was almost too easy to grab him. Arrogant fucker.”

He snorted. Tomu’s description of Fujiata was apt, the man had displayed that arrogance earlier when he’d tried to defy Takeshi and refuse to swear loyalty to the young heir. And it was that arrogance, the blatant disrespect of Takeshi that had placed Fujita squarely in Yoshitake’s sights when he’d originally planned to go after Shimodaira who held more sway with the fractured pieces of the organisation. But there was no fun in killing a man who’d capitulated to Takeshi’s demand for loyalty without a fight.

“So… how are you doing this today? I’m guessing it won’t be something simple as a knife to the throat or a bullet in the brain.”

“No. Nothing like that. I’m in the mood to have a little fun.”

Yoshitake walked over to the centre of the floor where Fujita was strung up, tips of his toes barely scraping the floor and shoulders straining against the chains pulling the man’s arms above his head. Some would consider it cruel to string up a man of Fujita’s age like a piece of meat, but the fun Yoshitake could have had with the man would’ve been so much more limited if Fujita had been bound to a chair. Would be no fun if the man remained gagged either, Yoshitake looking forward to every pained sound that fell from the man’s lips and he quickly yanked the cloth free of Fujita’s mouth. Snickered too at the man’s curses, the anger contained in his name as Fujita spat it out.

“With a mouth like that… I’m so going to enjoy taking my time to kill you,” he purred, snickering when Fujita silenced that anger spilling from his lips.

“I thought the young heir wanted to lead the Shirokawa-gumi, not destroy it?”

“He does…want to lead it. But I want it more.”

He smirked at the man’s confusion. Yoshitake had a reputation and it wasn’t for the careful disposal of the organisation’s enemies. He slipped off his jacket and threw it at Tomu, not bothering to see whether the man caught it or not. Rolled up his sleeves until they sat just above his elbows and pulled on a pair of gloves. Normally Yoshitake didn’t worry about getting his hands bloody, preferred it really, but with Fujita’s body to be left in a location far more public than his other kills, he couldn’t risk anything that might lead the police to his door.

Yoshitake didn’t want Takeshi to learn of his secrets just yet.

Walking over to a nearby table, the instruments, and weapons Yoshitake favoured already laid out on it ready to be used. He rubbed at his jaw and hummed, slowly making his selection—pocketing two items while keeping a large knife with a delicious curve to its blade gripped in his hand—and strode back toward Fujita. Ran a finger across the smooth edge of the blood and imagined the path it could take along the man’s skin, the way the curved edge might hook under Fujita’s ribs and slice through any organ that got in its way. But before Yoshitake dragged it along the man’s skin, maybe even tracing along the lines of ink that were etched in it, Fujita first needed to be rid of his clothes.

Laughter bubbled from his throat as he watched Fujita try to evade the blade he wielded; the frantic pleas that weren’t very becoming of one who’d thought himself worthy of heading the Shirokawa-gumi. Hooked the tip of the blade under the leather belt and grinned at its sharpness, slicing through the expensive leather like it was nothing more than paper. Ran it beneath the buttons of Fujita’s jacket, waistcoat and shirt sending each one flicking across the floor of the warehouse.

“For one who acted so big… so, powerful earlier… you’re a little disappointing Fujita. You’ve got no strength at all. An old man caught up in the past and refusing to realise our world is moving on… loyalty built on respect and fear doesn’t work if you can’t back it up.” Yoshitake walked around him, pausing occasionally to hook the tip of the blade into Fujita’s clothing and tearing it until the fabric pooled on the ground at the man’s feet or hung from his bound arms like streamers.

“Loyalty? You wouldn’t know what that means,” Fujita spat. “I’m not the one pandering to the young heir, pretending to secure his position while secretly seeking to usurp him…. You plan to kill him too?”

“No. I don’t.” He rested the tip of the blade on Fujita’s chest, digging it until the man hissed with pain and blooded beaded on his skin. “My desire for power… and my loyalty to Takeshi, are two different things.”

Fujita snorted. “He won’t give up the position he was raised for that easily… and if the rumours I’ve heard are true… then you better be prepared to kill him as Matsumoto won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Yoshitake leaned in, the tip of the blade digging deeper into Fujita’s flesh. “By the time he learns of it… Takeshi won’t be able to do anything about it.” Metal scraped on bone as he dragged the blade down Fujita’s sternum and let it sink into the softness that waited beneath it. Sliced through the layers of fat and muscle of the abdomen while avoiding the organs and any major arteries. “He won’t do anything but what I want him to do… not even lead the Shirokawa-gumi.”

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Fujita gasped and spluttered, unable to draw in enough air to push out the words he desperately wanted to say. His death would be slow and painful, life slipping away from him as the red puddle at his feet spread further. But it was too slow and not nearly enough fun. Yoshitake threw the blade to the floor and withdrew the other items hidden stashed in his pockets. Careful of the blood on the floor he moved closer to Fujiata and grabbed the edges of the wound he’d created and clipped it back to expose the man’s innards. The man jerked and Yoshitake cackled as the motion sent Fujiata’s organs spilling from his body.

“You’re like a bloody cat,” Tomu huffed. “Playing with your prey before you kill it.”

“Hmm… but I’m done playing.” He levelled a gun at Fujiata’s forehead and fired.

“Drop his body somewhere it’ll be easily and quickly found… make it appear as though Inoshita or Shimodaira’s factions are responsible.” Yoshitake yanked of his gloves and dropped them in the bin to be disposed of. “Let’s see how our young heir copes when chaos descends upon Osaka’s streets again… this time with more blood and bullets.”

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Dangerous Lessons (The Yakuza and the English Teacher 1)

Jamie headed to Kyoto from New Zealand to teach English. He never planned on falling in love. And never with the head of the local Yakuza group...

Love shouldn't be this dangerous!

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