Kia Ora...

My writing over the past week has consisted of reigning in a secondary character in one of my wips and reminding him politely that the story isn't about him. He's only supposed to have a small cameo but he quickly tried to centre it around him... yes, he will have his own series of books... eventually. It's those pesky secondary characters who demand to be noticed that often see a planned standalone novel become a series or a spin off books written for an existing series... they're almost worst than plot bunnies.

Updates

• Deviation (Nagoya Crimes 2) has almost reached the 30k mark which also roughly be the halfway point of the story.
• Altered the beginning of Knight (Crime Lords 4) and added a prologue which ties it into the end of the last book better and then sets the rest of the story up better. It's been put on the back burner while I focus on Deviation whose characters have been more vocal.
• Looking at organising a few of my completed series into boxsets.
• Have decided on another series that will be set in the Greertown Universe (Crime Lords). Switch Hitters will be a sports romance series set around a professional baseball team.

Cover Reveal - Deviation (Nagoya Crimes Two)

MMF Yakuza Romance

Yakuza Boss x Detectives

Gang War

Find Deception (Nagoya Crimes 1) and more Yakuza Romances here.

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Takeshi paced in front of his grandfather’s desk, one hand tucked in the pocket of his pants while the other twirled one of his smaller blades back and forth over his fingers. Every few minutes he’d pause, release a frustrated snarl, and threw the knife at the far wall, embedding its sharp tip into the picture of Shimadaira he’d hung there before snatching up another repeated the process. Three days had passed since he’d learnt of the older man’s treachery and yet the man had made no indication that he was aware that Takeshi had uncovered his plan. Either the man’s arrogant confidence had led him to believe that it didn’t matter what Takeshi knew of his intentions, or the names Mizawa had given him were all wrong.

He was betting on it being the first one.

Taking over the Shirokawa-gumi, ousting his own father from the top position for no other reason than he wouldn’t allow Takeshi to be with the man he loved, was never going to be an easy task. He’d been prepared for resistance from the old guard, men who were either staunch followers of his grandfather or his father, but Takeshi had never thought a man who so strongly opposed him would swear an oath over sake while planning to destroy him. Arrogance. It was definitely arrogance that was driving Shimadaira’s actions. A foolish belief that he could kill Takeshi and Yoshitake before anyone could learn of what he’d done. Swearing an oath with sake, pledging your allegiance with the intention of breaking it wasn’t looked on kindly in their world. Takeshi might have incurred the wrath of the local yakuza bosses with his actions, but they’d be less willing to allow a man like Shimadaira to stand at the helm of the Shirokawa-gumi than were to have Takeshi installed as the head.

But the question was: did Takeshi bait Shimadaira into exposing his own treachery? Or did he simply take the man out and be done with it? And he didn’t have hours or even days still to decide which course of action to take, but minutes. He glanced at the large clock positioned behind his grandfather’s desk, ten minutes to be precise at which point all the major ward bosses would be arriving at the house for a meeting. Takeshi suspected all the men would be on edge considering the blood baths the previous meetings had descended into and he’d rather they were fearful of him instead of viewing him as a soft touch whose orders could be easily ignored.

A soft touch… Takeshi snorted at the thought unable to comprehend why the men of the Shirokawa-gumi could even come to such a conclusion about him. If the displays of violence… the harsh punishments he’d swiftly handed out, or the decisive way he’d dealt with those who’d opposed him weren’t enough to convince these men that he wasn’t soft, then Takeshi wasn’t sure what could. And frankly, they could either fall into line or fall on their swords because he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You might want to remove those before the men arrive,” Yoshitake said from behind him “Unless it’s your aim to bolster support behind Shimadaira.”

Takeshi inhaled sharply and turned to face his lover who stood in the doorway of the room gesturing at the collection of knives that were embedded in the wall. He’d sunk that deep into the anger, Takeshi hadn’t even heard the man approach, and that wasn’t something that happened very often. Fists clenched at his sides, Takeshi was already to argue for the knives to remain where they were, wanting the men who stepped into this room to take head of the warning it clearly issued and for Shimadaira to realise his little ruse of loyalty had been uncovered.

But Yoshitake was right.

The knives embedded in a picture of Shimaidaira could have the opposite affect and turn members of the Shirokawa-gumi against him. Takeshi had no qualms about killing those members of the organisation who opposed him, ridding it of the poisonous voices who’d continue to spread their vile hatred throughout the Shirokawa if allowed to remain alive. However, he couldn’t afford to deplete the orgainsations ranks too much or fear being challenged for the dominance within the city by the other yakuza organisations who operated in Osaka.

Shoulders slumping and curses falling from his lips softly, Takeshi strode to the far end of the room and yanked each of the knives from the wall. He’d just finished laying them back on top of his grandfather’s desk when the first men arrived for the meeting. And just like it had never happened, the petulant attitude he’d showed Yoshitake only moments before vanished, replaced with a dangerous steely gaze that had the men moving a little faster to take their seats.

It didn’t surprise him that Shimadaira was one of the last ones to enter the room, an arrogant smirk toying with his lips along with a flare of annoyance coupled with confusion when his gaze landed on Yoshitake. A response that had been shared by a few of the older members of the organisation, men whose allegiance had always been to his grandfather first, the Shirokawa-gumi second. Takeshi gripped the edge of the desk behind him, hating that the specter of his grandfather still continued to haunt him. But what had surprised him was the number of ward bosses who’d walked into the room and barely blinked at Yoshitake’s presence. He’d expected there to be more hostility sent his former bodyguard’s way considering the accusations of disloyalty toward Takeshi that had spread throughout the city and not just the Shirokawa ranks. There were men within the Shirokawa-gumi than he’d thought who’d suffered under his grandfather’s antiquated ideas, and while they might not approve of the way Takeshi had risen to power within the organisation, they weren’t likely to side with Shimadaira.

Takeshi nodded his head at the guards waiting by the doors to close them and resume their positions outside in the hallway. He picked up one of the knives laid out on the desk and tapped it against his thigh while staring at the gathered men, mentally taking a roll call of who all was present. Every ward boss in the Shirokawa-gumi had been requested to appear at this meeting, and anyone who chose it ignore his order would find themselves stripped of their position, if not their ability to breathe. In particular, Takeshi sought out the bosses from the Fukushima, Hirano, Naniwa, and Tennoji Wards who Mizawa said were being threatened by Shimadaira’s faction. His eyes narrowing as he quickly noticed that two of them were missing and as his gaze slid back across to Shimadaira, the older man’s smirk had widened.

Gripping the knife tighter, he turned slightly and stabbed it into the desk while still holding Shimadaira’s gaze. Not surprisingly the man didn’t even flinch. Takeshi didn’t think the man knew that Mizawa had spilled some of the details surrounding his plans to oust Takeshi from his position at the head of the organisation. Hell, when the men’s bodies had been discovered yesterday, barely an utterance of outrage had left Shimadaira’s lips or been heard from any of those men who supported him. It was arrogance that drove everything the man did. A confident belief that his age and experience would win out in the end… Takeshi looked forward to abusing him of that notion and showing him why youth would never lose.

“Gentleman… thank you all for attending this hastily arranged meeting. I do appreciate that you’ve all got long nights ahead earning money for the organisation within your wards… so I wont keep you here too long. However, rumours of disloyalty have reached my ears and I wish to root whoever they are out so that our organisation can once more claim its rightful place as the dominant force in Osaka.”

“Disloyalty? All of us in this room have sworn oaths to you, Matsumoto… made them over sake… it’s rather preposterous that one of us would then break those oaths.”

The man who’d spoken was from one of the smaller wards on the outskirts of Osaka before the urban sprawl turned into the emptiness of farmland. Takeshi doubted the man would have been drawn into Shimadaira’s schemes, his ward not offering him anything in terms of power and money.

“And yet… one of you has done just that.” 

*******

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