Kia Ora...

Have you been watching the Olympics? Relying on free to air coverage has meant that I haven't watched as much of the Olympics as I'd have liked. The coverage was pretty poor and too much time listening to pointless in-studio interviews... sigh. But the NZ Team has been doing brilliantly!!

Updates

• Tailored Heart (House of Bolton 1) is just shy of hitting the 27k mark and nearing the halfway point of the story. Of course, being the first book in a new series I'm trying to balance the needs of the story alongside the need to lay the groundwork for the rest of the story. In addition to writing the first story, several other characters are demanding theirs, and I've been furiously noting down all the scenes they keep bombarding me with and I have 2 blurbs and 3 additional covers mocked up.
• A Knight for Two (The Moutrams 3) is close to hitting the 13k mark and is about a chapter or two away from hitting the halfway point of the story. The characters are keeping me on my toes as they send it heading in slightly different directions all with a couple of words.
• The Short Story I was writing is finished and submitted to the giveaway it will form a part of. Cover Reveal, blurb etc will be shared for this after Aug 13th in my readers group (Greenwood's Groupies) while a link to the promotion will be included in the next newsletter.
• Silverdale Coven/Wolves: I have begun mocking up new covers for these books with the intention of renaming the series Silverdale City which will give me more flexibility to expand on the series even once the current overarching plot arc is finished. They will also receive a re-edit to catch any stray grammar errors that got missed first time around, and hopefully the characters in Tainted Love will start talking to me again.

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1)

Chapter Fourteen

Takeshi’s fingers tightened around the glass of whiskey and swept his gaze over the popular Osaka bar for the tenth time since he’d arrived an hour ago. There’d be another attempt on his life, an attack that would leave Takeshi battered, bruised, and unsure who he could trust amongst the men surrounding him. He wasn’t going to make it easy for his would-be attackers either, refusing to head anywhere, not even the bathroom without a guard with him. His fingers trembled, heart rate spiked and dipped with every strange sound that broke through the music drifting through the bar, and while his fingers itched to grip the weapons hidden inside his jacket. And if the five ward bosses sitting with him tonight seeking favour and fortune, noticed his anxious state, none of them were stupid enough to point it out.

But then maybe they too were on edge, noticing the fervent glances being cast over the patrons packed three deep near the bar and on those packed tight on the bar’s small dance floor. Feared they might be next to suffer Fujioka’s fate… or were the men backing Yoshitake and were merely waiting for the signal to duck as an attack came Takeshi’s way.

He blew out a harsh breath and downed the last of the whiskey, ice rattling against the sides of the empty glass as he swirled it in his hand. Drew air back into his lungs and tried to push all the negative thoughts aside allowing Takeshi to distance himself from the situation. If he were in Yoshitake’s place, desperate to rid himself of an obstacle that stood in his way of taking over the Shirokawa-gumi, what plans would he put in place for tonight’s attack? Would he have only one plan, or multiple? He needed to think as Yoshitake did and considering that he learnt as much about defeating your opponent in this world from his bodyguard as he’d done working under Ogawa in Tokyo, it shouldn’t be hard for Takeshi to work out.

For starters, did Yoshitake want him dead?

And fuck wasn’t that a heavy thought to consider. One that had plagued Takeshi since his conversation with Kennosuke and his mind had been opened to the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it was to face.

But admitting Yoshitake had used him—used his name—to gain leverage within Osaka and the Shirokawa-gumi was one thing. It was another entirely to admit the man you’d been in love with for the last seven years wanted you dead… that all those whispered promises you’d clung while you’d been apart had meant nothing to the man.

He breathed in through his nose, pushed it slowly out through pursed lips and surveyed the men around him. Men whose attention had begun to shift from each other, gazes narrowing as they noticed the agitation Takeshi failed to hide. Judging stares. Disparaging comments whispered under their breath.

“Is everything okay, Boss?” Hongu asked, the Naniwa Ward Boss’ words as insincere as the smiles worn by those around him.

“Frustrated over the issue of Fujioka. No closer to uncovering who might be responsible… and not liking where the trails I have found lead.”

“I thought it was obvious who’d done it,” Komoda, the Tsurimi Ward Boss, snorted. “The Araki-gumi won’t be happy until we’re all dead. Greedy fuckers want to rule all of Kansai.”

Takeshi placed the empty glass on the table and flexed his aching fingers. “I spoke with the younger Kitayama today, looked him right in the eyes and asked Kennosuke if he’d killed my ward boss… he told me that he didn’t. Told me he had no reason to kill Fujioka.”

“And you believed him,” Yasuneko snarled, his understandable dislike of the Araki-gumi stemmed from losing the Osaka Ward of Jōtō to the Kyoto based organisation once hostilities between the Araki-gumi and the Shirokawa-gumi had ended.

“I did. We were once allies of the Araki-gumi… we worked together alongside the other major Kansai organisations to keep those from Tokyo expanding into our region… held regular meetings, drunk alongside them—well, you all did, I was too young back then, but instead I hung out with Kennosuke, we were friends even… so yes, when the man stares me straight in the eye and swears he didn’t kill my ward boss, then yes, I will tend to believe him.”

Hongu narrowed his eyes and tapped the end of unlit cigar on his knee. “Your father would never have been so quick to trust their word.”

“And what makes you think I can trust your word any more than Kitayama’s?”

“But you’re willing to trust the word of our enemy, and that of Yoshitake’s… we are the men who supported your father, gave him advice when needed and obeyed his orders with unwavering loyalty.”

“Shit job you did then. Where the fuck were you all when my father died? What have you done to seek out the man responsible for orchestrating his death?” The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, guilt, remorse, and a desire for revenge flickered across their faces. “For all I know, the three of you were all in on it… conspired with his killer and hoped to gain some financial benefit from it.”

“If anyone dared to approach me with an offer of standing by while they killed your father in exchange for wealth… I would have shoved a blade through their heart and handed their head to your father,” Komoda snarled, fingers clenched tight on his knees. “You weren’t here in the months preceding your grandfather’s death… didn’t see the chaos we were trying to corral—are still trying to—enemies were crawling out of the framework and those of us loyal to your father were stretched thin as we attempted to cut them down… while you were living it up in Tokyo.”

“Living it up? What the fuck did you all think I was doing in Tokyo? I sure as fuck wasn’t lazing around and getting pissed. When I wasn’t studying and attending to lectures, I was working for Tatsuo Ogawa… and if you weren’t paying attention to yakuza politics, the man was in the middle of a fucking war with his boss.”

“And I’m sure he kept you tucked far away from danger,” Yasuneko sneered.

Takeshi blinked, not quite believing that man dared to insinuate that somehow Takeshi’s hands were clean… that he was a naïve to the ways of their world which of course begged the question, had the man not noticed the bodies piled up earlier by Takeshi’s hands.

“I’m going to ignore that comment, Yasuneko… and the insinuations hidden behind it.”

Hongu sighed and scrubbed at his face. “You suggested there might be a connection between Fujioka’s death and that of your fathers… what has led you and Yoshitake to come to that conclusion?”

Some might be suspicious of the easy way Hongu tied Yoshitake’s name to his, and yet up until his conversation with Kennosuke, Takeshi would have connected them the same way. “The reasoning for the connection is mine, and mine alone. I haven’t shared my thoughts with anyone outside of you three… not even with Yoshitake.”

“Yoshitake hasn’t shared anything with you then, about the day your father died?”

Takeshi laughed, the bitter strangled sound only adding to the confusion the three Ward Bosses wore. “No one has spoken of my father’s death beyond the barest of acknowledgments… not even Yoshitake has uttered the man’s name in my presence beyond a regret that he’d not fought harder to keep me in Osaka.”

The men in front of winced, their gazes drifting away from Takeshi’s and an uncomfortable silence draped itself over them.

“Why do you ask? Is there some reason why Yoshitake—out of all of you—should have spoken to me about my father’s death in greater detail?” His hands clenched tight as the thought pounding through his brain increased its demanding tempo and no matter how hard Takeshi tried to shut the door on it, not wanting to face the truth he’d spent the past few hours trying to deny, the dawning realisation of what happened that day refused to be ignored.

“Yoshitake,” Komoda began, lifting his head to meet Takeshi’s furious pained gaze. “He worked closely with your father and grandfather… intent on proving his loyalty, his worthiness during the years you were absent from Osaka… years of darting behind enemy lines and working to undermine the good faith Gou Kitayama had developed in Kyoto, Nara, and Wakayama—”

None of this surprised Takeshi, regardless of what he’d thought of the Yoshitake in the past and what he suspected of him now.

“—no one thought it unusual that Yoshitake was with your father that day… he was like a shadow that couldn’t be gotten rid of regardless of whether sun shone down or not. And none of us thought to question—” Komoda’s words faltered as every light in the bar shattered and the sound of gunfire bled through the music, sounding sharper, closer as the sound system fell silent.

Hongu moved quick to cover Takeshi’s body as chaos erupted in the packed venue and armed gunmen stormed inside the popular bar, none brave enough to show their faces. He’d been expecting an attack tonight, geared himself to face down several assailants as they caught him off guard while switching between venues. But this attack was something else entirely.

Brazen and desperate… Yoshitake wasn’t playing games anymore.

*

Brian cursed softly next to him as they watched chaos unfold from the dark shadows of the alleyway opposite the bar. Kennosuke reached for the weapon tucked inside his jacket and took a step forward, only to be jerked back into his husband’s arms.

“I know you want to help him, but he didn’t ask for it.”

“He did ask for our help,” Kennosuke hissed.

“Not like this he didn’t. Not in this situation. He asked to follow his attackers, not subdue them.”

“I doubt Takeshi expected them to come at him with guns… to be so brazen about their attack.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not our place to intervene… pretty sure Gou would be fucking pissed if you dragged the Araki-gumi back into another turf war in Osaka, and especially one with the Shirokawa-gumi.” Brian wrapped his arms around him tighter. “Because that’s what interfering in this matter will do.”

“He’s a friend,” he ground out, hands clenched tight at his sides.

“And the best way to help him is to do what he asked… find the bastard behind all this chaos and deliver him to Matsumoto for the Shirokawa-gumi to deal with as they see fit.”

************************************

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