Kia Ora...

The Olympics are a must watch event in my household and over the next two weeks it will be playing in the background while I work. My favourite events are Gymnastics (all disciplines), Track and Field, Swimming, Diving... well, I'll pretty much watch everything that the free-to-air coverage will show us... which will probably not include the baseball :(

Updates

• A Knight for Two (The Moutrams 3) is currently sitting at 9.5k and approximately a third of the way through the story. I'm loving being back in a Medieval setting. Tentative release date is early-mid August.
• Short Story: this needs to be finished in a weeks' time and I still have 2k words to write on it.
• Working on another WIP which is already 12.5k long.
• Are in the planning stages for recovering the Silverdale Coven, and Silverdale Wolves series. In addition to new covers, I will be re-editing them and combining them into one series called Silverdale City and then hopefully the characters in the final book - an finish up the overarching plotline - will start talking to me.
• I am have also started uploading books to Eden Books... so far I have the Tokyo Nights series up.

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1)

Chapter Thirteen

Yoshitake rubbed his face while stifling a yawn behind his hands, the lack of sleep last night finally catching up to him. He’d expected news of Fujioka’s death to reach Takeshi today, but he’d not counted on the mans’ body being discovered quite as quickly as it had. Either the Osaka police had upped their game in recently as the Shirokawa-gumi began to pull themselves back into a unified force who could once more dominate the criminal landscape… or someone had stumbled upon it by chance. Neither scenario appealed. Each with its own inherent dangers which all lead back to the city’s police having rediscovered their long-lost competency.

“Did you believe Kitayama?” he asked, collapsing onto a chair in the office. Takeshi had worn a pensive expression ever since they’d returned to the house and evaded Yoshitake’s attempts to guide him toward the bedroom. Gods know they both needed the sleep before hitting the streets of downtown Osaka in a few hours. “Believe that he or his men had nothing to do with Fujioka’s death.”

“Ken didn’t do it. He’s arrogant enough to want to be credited with the kill, and what reason does he have for taking out a high-ranked member of my organization? Nothing that’s what. The Araki-gumi won’t gain anything from the old bastard’s death.”

Yoshitake snorted. “Don’t let friendships form the past cloud your mind, Keshi. The Araki-gumi have everything to gain. The Shirokawa-gumi might not be the force they once were… but they’re still the most powerful organization in Osaka… if the Kitayamas take us out, then all the areas we control with an iron fist and bled dry of cash will be free for the taking.”

Takeshi shook his head. “No. Destroying what remains of the Shirokawa-gumi will only create chaos. We might not be unified, but even with the fractured politics between the Ward Bosses, are dominance remains absolute. If we fall… the power vacuum won’t be easily filled by the Araki-gumi and will most likely plunge Osaka back into a bloody yakuza war.”

“And? That will still benefit the Kitayamas.” He rose from his seat and glanced at the time. This conversation wasn’t heading in a direction Yoshitake approved of and sex always made for a good distraction.

“They’re exhausted as we are. Maybe more so.”

Fuck he hated how perceptive Takeshi kept proving to be. Hated that every time he was always so damned right. The Araki-gumi were exhausted after first fighting the war started by Takeshi’s grandfather, and then dealing with an internal conflict which Yoshitake had happily fanned by introducing Tadashi to a Korean faction trying to establish itself in Japan for support. He’d underestimated slightly the man’s desire for vengeance, not expecting Tadashi would travel halfway across the world simply to kill Gou Kitayama’s husband. Not that it bothered him whether Gou’s husband lived or died, but the inadvertent foiling of the Araki-gumi’s planned joint venture with an overseas organization had pleased Yoshitake.

He controlled the ports and by extension decided what levies would be slapped on merchandise being brought into the region through it. But Gou’s plan would’ve bypassed the port in favour of Kansai International Airport which was situated in an area outside of the Shirokawa-gumi’s sphere of influence—the border staff were all paid off by Gou’s allies. If the venture had gone ahead as planned, the money lost by the Shirokawa-gumi would’ve run into millions of yen.

“You maybe, right,” he sighed. “But I’m not willing to trust the word of young—” his words cut off by the chirp of his cell phone as more text messages came in. He retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, brow furrowing at the name flashing across the screen.

“Problem?” Takeshi pushed off the desk he’d been leaning on and stepped toward him, gesturing at the phone. “It’s been chirping like that for the last few hours.”

“It’s nothing… or at least I hope it’s nothing,” he muttered, pretending to read the messages before pocketing his phone and putting more distance between them. “Something happened down at the port… incorrect quantities of merchandise, I think… the message was quite garbled. We really need to instruct the men—especially the older ones—on how to send concise messages that are both clearly understood by the recipients while still leaving the police clueless if they managed to get hold of the device in question.” Lies fell easily from his lips these days when talking to Takeshi, tangling with the truth so tightly it would take hours—weeks even—to untangle the threads and by then it would be too late to stop Yoshitake’s plans. “I’ll head out and deal with it, bang some heads together if need be… and then meet you downtown later.”

“Maybe… I should come with you,” Takeshi said, rebuttoning his coat and reaching for the knives he’d placed on the desk when they’d arrived back from the meeting with Kitayama.

“No… No. Definitely not.” The last thing Yoshitake needed was to turn a fictious problem at the port into a real one. “Your presence might unduly complicate the matter… instill fear when it is not required,” he hurriedly pointed out while praying Takeshi didn’t press the issue. “It’ll be something that can be easily handled in a few hours… I can arrange for Ohayi to remain by your side until I meet up with you at Torinagi Bar later.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. But if I get there and discover the issue requires a …firmer touch, then I won’t hesitate to contact you.”

“Good. Make sure you do.”

Yoshitake stared at Takeshi and blinked. He might not have wanted to waste time arguing over whether the young boss should involve himself in the matter at the port, but honestly Yoshitake had thought Takeshi would’ve put up more of a fight over being forced to stay behind.

“Well? Are you going or not, Take?” Takeshi snapped, gesturing at the door.

He took a deep breath, nodded, and spun on his heels, disappearing out of the office before Takeshi changed his mind. It wasn’t until he’d slid into the back of a car being driven by a man who’s loyalty was to him first, and Takeshi second, that Yoshitake dared to look at his phone and read the messages Tomu had sent over the last few hours.

MU: I’m bored. Where’s this war you promised me?

MU: Bored. Bored. Bored.

MU: I think I’ve picked up a tail. Is it one of Takeshi’s?

MU: Maybe it’s the Araki-gumi… I don’t recognise him.

MU: Bastard isn’t that good at this hide-and-seek game.

MU: Oh fuck! You better get me something to do. I think my tail might be Triad.

“Great… just freaking great,” Yoshitake muttered, ready to kill his bastard of a friend himself for bringing an added complication to his doorstep. He’d warned Tomu that accepting the job offered to him by a member of the Yamashita on behalf of one of their Ward Bosses was a bad idea, not wanting to either of them to be drawn into the internal conflict of the Tokyo organisation. But garnering the attention of a Triad group was far worse.

Ake: Relocate to secondary safehouse. Will meet you there in thirty.

He pocketed his phone, not waiting for a reply and leaned back in the seat with a heavy sigh while wondering if all this stress was worth it.

*

Takeshi stared at the closed door long after Yoshitake had disappeared out it. His hands gripped the edge of the desk while anger coursed through his veins. The man had lied to him. He couldn’t explain how he knew it, he just did, and Takeshi didn’t want to believe it. There weren’t many within the remnants of the organisation who Takeshi could trust, not with the future of the Shirokawa-gumi or with his life. Only one person… or at least there had been one person right up until Yoshitake stood there in front of him and blatantly lied. He knew it would only take one call to the port to confirm his suspicions, yet Takeshi was hesitant to do so unable to guarantee that those men were loyal to him or wouldn’t simply parrot back whatever information Yoshitake had fed them.

Yoshitake had lied to him.

He pushed off the desk and palmed one of the knives lying on it, gripping the hilt of the blade hard enough for his fingers to blanch as the dangerous fury inside of him demanded to be unleashed. Takeshi wanted to pin the old bastard to the wall, one blade through each shoulder while he scored the Yoshitake’s skin until he spoke the truth. Whatever the fuck the truth was, because Takeshi wasn’t sure he even knew what it was anymore. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out either.

But the lies being fed to him had to stop.

Takeshi needed to uncover who within his organisation could be trusted—a number he guessed would be small—and then kill the rest. He’d make an example of them, scattering their bodies across the city and making sure anyone who sought to challenge his position within the Shirokawa-gumi… his dominance over Osaka’s underworld would understand what awaited them. Root out all those who were loyal to Yoshitake both inside the Shirokawa-gumi and outside of it. Men who’d attacked—

“Fuck!” he roared, slamming the knife into the desk, its blade burying itself in the wood. “Is that why they never killed me? Never hurt me beyond a half-decent beating…” Takeshi muttered, pacing the floor with his hands clasped behind his head and yet, the possible reasons behind his attackers’ actions only threw up more questions.

Maybe he had this all wrong.

Maybe Yoshitake wasn’t behind it all.

Maybe there was something there was something else Takeshi was missing…

Except Yoshitake had lied, and nothing he said could be taken as truth. Not the words he uttered to Takeshi not, and not the ones he’d whispered to him in the past.

But still Takeshi wanted to cling to the maybes.

If Yoshitake’s aim was to take over the Shirokawa-gumi, then wouldn’t it have been easier for him to kill Takeshi on his return to Osaka? Easier than playing the part of the loyal bodyguard and lover. Didn’t gel with the way Yoshitake comforted him after every attack—beatings that Yoshitake himself might have ordered—or took Takeshi out of his head whenever the stress of trying to regain control of the fractured organisation grew too much. Takeshi had given his trust easily, freely, and without hesitation as they’d sunk back into the familiar routines of the past. Built on them too, believing in the love Takeshi had never let go of despite the four years that had separated them.

Now though…

Now Takeshi doubted everything while clinging to the slim hope that maybe he was wrong.

Yoshitake had lied…

He wanted to believe in the promises they’d exchanged over sake.

Wanted to believe what he’d heard about his father’s death was true, because if it was false…

If Yoshitake had anything to do with his father’s death… Takeshi roared, pain slicing through him at the mere hint the man had betrayed him. But he needed proof. Undeniable proof that Yoshitake had orchestrated it all, and there was only one person in the whole of Osaka who Takeshi could rely on.

“I told you, Keshi, we didn’t fucking kill him,” Kennosuke hissed as he answered Takeshi’s call.

“I know you didn’t.”

“You worked it out then, where the problems in your organisation are…or should I say, who the problem is?”

Takeshi sighed and planted a hand on the desk as he leaned on it, his thumb brushing the blade edge of the knife buried in its surface. “I think I have… just don’t want to believe it.”

“He’s not there with you, right?”

“No, he’s not.” He chuckled wryly, hating that his past with Yoshitake had clouded his mind to the truth everyone else could see. Hated it was the very thing Yoshitake had warned him about. “He’s dealing with an ‘issue at the port’.” He ground out.

“You need to watch your back with him… he’s been up to some shady shit in the months since your father’s death and your getting back to Osaka.”

“Proof? I can’t pin the bastard unless I have concrete proof that he’s working against me.”

“No… nothing like that. Just rumours and gossip.”

He drew in a deep breath and pushed out the last of his reservations about asking Kennosuke for help. “Do you want to help me get the information I need? I can’t trust anyone in my organisation, and even those who swore loyalty this morning… I can’t guarantee that they aren’t in Yoshitake’s pocket.”

“What do you need from me?”

“I need to learn where he goes, who he speaks too when he’s not playing the dutiful bodyguard and—” his voice cracked as emotion fractured his words.

“Shit! Really? You and Yoshitake? Fuck that shit man… how long?”

“Sixteen… sort of,” he said with a pained groan as he realised how foolish he’d been. There was no way a man so much older than Takeshi would’ve wanted him beyond his usefulness as the heir to the Shirokawa-gumi. No wonder his father had been furious about their closeness and had packed him off to Tokyo as soon as Takeshi graduated high school. Hated that despite knowing Yoshitake had manipulated him, he still wanted… needed… loved Yoshitake.

“Damn,” Kennosuke whistled. “But finding him won’t be easy. It’s not like you can tip us off without Yoshitake knowing about it.”

“I know where he… no, where those who work for him will be tonight.”

“If you know that, then why the fuck do you need me?”

“If I’m right, they will attack me tonight at some point. Yoshitake wasn’t impressed that I trusted your word about Fujioka’s death… but his body was definitely dumped in your territory to try and spark a war between us.”

“I think that too,” Kennosuke’s voice fading off as he spoke to someone next to him. “Where will you be tonight?”

“Torinagi Bar. I plan to arrive there about seven.”

“Three hours from now… yeah, that’s plenty of time for me and Brian to work out a plan. You won’t want us to intervene when they attack?”

“No. I can handle them. Just follow them afterward and try and connect them back to Yoshitake.”

“Got it. Take care of yourself, Keshi, and will talk again later.”

“Thanks, Ken.”

..................

Flex (Golden Decks Casino 1)

Competitive Gymnasts: Underground Fights: Best Friends to Lovers:

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