Kia Ora...

Autumn has finally made its appearance as I look at my window and see the leaves slowly changing colour. Other plants in my garden aren't quite so convinced that summer has gone with my roses still continuing to flower.

April is always a busy month in NZ what with Easter, ANZAC Day and school holidays none of which is very conducive to writing even if my kids are well into their teens...and older. However, it might just mean I end up with more promo graphics, covers for books I'm not ready to write and... I also need to organise a new website.

Updates

Flex (Golden Decks Casino 1) was supposed to be a novella, but I've now reached the 20k mark and are nowhere near writing 'The End'. Both Nico and Ryan have been very talkative which makes the writing process easier, however, they aren't very forthcoming when it comes to heat levels and this one could end being a very low heat... seriously they've kissed twice on page and fucked off page... But as frustrating as that is, I can't force something onto the page and expect it work.

Deadly Gifts (Tokyo Nights 3): I'm not looking forward to letting these boys go once I'm finished with their story, though there is a good chance they might make appearances in other stories set in the same universe. Currently I have 13k written and are now arguing with the characters over the direction of the story.

Excerpts from both stories are shared on Wednesdays NZT in my readers group Greenwood's Groupies and can be found under the #wipwednesday topic tag.

Greenwood's Groupies

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1)

Previous Chapters

Content Warnings: violence, references to sex trade,

Chapter Six

Takeshi leaned back in the booth at the popular host club and tried to ignore the amorous advances of the hostess. Host club was a generous term for the place, where more money was earned in the back rooms than what was received in champagne sales on the main floor. Not that Takeshi had an issue with it. Money was money after all whether it was earned through skin or through drugs and he had no intention of changing it. The décor of the place however… it had been like walking into an bad B-grade yakuza movie with the garish colours that should’ve stayed in the seventies and with the continued encroachment of the Araki-gumi into their territory, if the Shirokawa-gumi didn’t make their premises more appealing, they’d lose.

He listened with half an ear to the conversation’s flowing around him, smiled thinly at the questions directed at him while only giving vague, non-committal answers. His attention lay not toward the words being uttered, but the intention that lay beneath them. The men surrounding him were all those who’d sworn loyalty to his grandfather, lower in seniority than the men he’d dealt with earlier—Fujiata, Inonshita and Shimadaira—but still hungry for power and ready to debase themselves to get it. Yet, Takeshi wasn’t so naïve to believe that the sweet words they whispered guaranteed their loyalty to him either.

But listening to them fall over themselves to impress him, had given Takeshi quite the insight into the current political machinations of Osaka’s Yakuza organisations. More importantly it gave insight into who the threats to Takeshi’s position as the head of the Shirokawa-gumi were. Surprisingly, there were many names mentioned who Takeshi had never heard of before. Small bit players who’d been able to capitalise on the chaos and carve out a strong position for themselves in niche markets. Yet these men weren’t satisfied with being small fish in an even smaller pond. Takeshi sniggered, looking forward to draining those ponds and leaving the men gasping like fish on dry land if they didn’t shift their loyalties back to the Shirokawa-gumi… to him.

But before he could have some fun, Takeshi needed to survive the night. Maybe it would be easier to clear house and slaughter all those who shared the same values as his grandfather. Rebuild the Shirokawa-gumi from the ground up… but if only it was so easy. What might have worked in Tokyo, wouldn’t here.

“Are you ready to head out?” Yoshitake whispered in his ear and Takeshi struggled to stifle the shiver sliding down his spine. “We still have two more venues to hit up tonight.”

Two more venues at which Takeshi needed to be seen at and tomorrow the whole of Osaka would know of the Shirokawa-gumi heir’s return.

“Yes. I think I’ve learnt all that I need to here.” Takeshi untangled himself the hostess’ who clung to him like unwanted vines and placed the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing on the table in front of him. He’d not drunk more than a sip, not wanting to lose the taste of Yoshitake that still lingered in his mouth, wanted to savour it for as long as he could even if it garnered him strange looks for not imbibing at the same levels as those decades older than him.

Rising from his seat, Takeshi straightened his jacket and slipped out of the booth to follow Yoshitake from the club. Followed his bodyguard across the main floor of the club toward the rear of the premises where in future he’d be expected to meet with those who ran the different Osaka Wards on the Shirokawa-gumi’s behalf. But Takeshi had little desire to operate out of room his grandfather had once exerted his power from. Didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in a club where the entertainment on offer—that many would expect him to take advantage of—held no interest for him at all.

Yoshitake guided him through the rabbit warren of corridors, past the private rooms were the real money in the club was made. Clients who indulged in activities that would ruin their careers if their secrets became known, men whose names Takeshi would quickly learn in short order and nodded at the guards who protected the place. It didn’t take long to reach the rear entrance of the club—one of them at least—but instead of stepping through the door into the service alley where Takeshi expected his SUV to be waiting, Yoshitake came to an abrupt stop and pulled out his phone.

Takeshi stared at the man, his brows furrowing the longer the heated exchange went on as he worried what disaster he might need to walk into. Hands shoved in the pocket of pants, he resisted the urge to pace while he waited to learn what the issue was, not that Takeshi knew if he had the influence or respect yet to solve it. But this organisation was his, and its problems were his to solve.

“What’s the issue?” he asked as Yoshitake pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped it against his thigh.

Yoshitake sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “There are issues down at the ports and it’s creating issues with our merchandise.”

“White or Pink?”

His bodyguard looked at him in surprise before cracking a grin. “Pink. Supplies from Eastern Europe are getting held up by the unwanted attentions of the police.”

“Can we divert them to other ports?” It would be difficult and add a higher cost to the product, but Takeshi had no qualms in charging more when his grandfather had never ordered inferior goods. “Especially any shipments that have not yet landed in the country and bring them in via the airports instead.”

“It could be done. Might involve some tricky…negotiation.”

Takeshi tipped his head back and huffed. Tricky negotiation… in other words not something that he could manage right now when his position within the Shirokawa-gumi was tenuous. Even if what remained of his grandfather’s legacy fell tidily into Takeshi’s hands, he’d still not have the respect of rival heads or even those within the police who gladly took Shirokawa-gumi money. He couldn’t guarantee that those police and other corrupt officials hadn’t already aligned themselves with a faction that opposed Takeshi taking up the leadership.

“Negotiations with who?”

“Port officials mainly… ensure that they keep the police nosing about the ports away from our containers.”

“Do you know who to speak too? Whose pockets require more cash lining them?” Money wasn’t an issue. Not for Takeshi. His grandfather had been a shrewd businessman despite his faults and much of the money coming into the Shirokawa-gumi had been diverted into bank accounts only those in the Matsumoto family—and those they’d authorised—could access.

“I do. While you were in Tokyo, I handled much of the port business for your grandfather.”

Takeshi nodded. “Then go deal with it. We need that merchandise or chaos will turn to revolt.” Fractures within the organisation could be mended, but all-out war would destroy everything.

“But I can’t leave you.”

He grimaced. “Don’t have much choice… I don’t trust anyone else to do this.”

Yoshitake pressed his lips thin before making a quick call. “Three guards are on their way to meet you here and they’ll escort you to the SUV.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you back in Suita once you’re done sorting out the mess at the ports.”

***

The door slammed heavily behind him and the light above it flickered. Takeshi drew in a deep breath, fingers wrapping around the knife he carried and peered into the shadows searching for the guards who were supposed to meet him here. Guards who’d messaged him to say they were outside the club’s rear entrance and yet… Takeshi couldn’t see any sign of them. Dark suited or not, their presence should still have been noticeable. He shook his head, vowing to make sure the men paid for failures later, Takeshi turned toward the northern end of the alley where the SUV was supposed to be waiting for him.

Takeshi gripped his knife tighter, his whole body on high alert for danger and he didn’t take long to find it, tripping over a large object in the middle of the alley. A body or maybe even two were sprawled across the ground and it didn’t require much detective work to realise that it was his missing guards. Obvious too that they weren’t the ones who’d messaged him, that their attackers were still lying in wait for Takeshi having lured him out here alone.

A shoe scrapped along the ground behind him while another sent a stone skittering away to the left of him. Takeshi breathed slow and waited for them to get closer. Two attackers he could easily take on.

“You’re going to regret not agreeing to talk with our Boss,” a nasally voice Takeshi didn’t recognise said. “He doesn’t like it when people refuse him.”

“What is he? A child?” Takeshi retorted, grimacing as it became clear there were more than two men in the alley, and they were closing in on him fast.

The man didn’t answer. At least not with words. A glint of silver as it caught in the flickering light was all the warning Takeshi got as the blade sliced through the air and forced him to twist out of the way. Not easy to do when Takeshi also needed to be careful of the bodies sprawled on the ground and the other men waiting to take their chance at him. Spinning around, blade angled along his forearm as he held it in front of him—a defensive position that also allowed him to quickly on the attack—and waited for the next strike thrown his way. Takeshi breathed deep, ducked the leg that swung at his head, deflected the fist aimed at his ribs while returning a few sickening blows of his own.

Yet, just like the altercation on the bridge these men’s attacks appeared half-hearted. Whatever their orders were, killing him wasn’t one of them. Takeshi couldn’t understand it. The persistent attacks spoke of hostile intent and yet the attacks themselves were more like a child throwing a tantrum at not getting what they wanted. Was their boss after control of the Shirokawa-gumi or not?

But right now, wasn’t the time to be mulling over the issue as the men’s attacks increased in intensity and frequency. Takeshi’s defence faltering and his ability to attack diminishing as blow after blow rained down him. Hands, feet, and elbows plus the odd scrape of a blade across flesh. Protecting his face left his abdomen exposed and one his attackers were quick to take advantage of…a foot caught him in the stomach and sent Takeshi stumbling backward into the arms of a waiting attacker. Arms quickly hooked under his shoulders and fingers clasped behind his head. The blows that had rained down on him before Takeshi quickly realised had merely been the appetiser as fist after fist pounded his ribs and abdomen until Takeshi’s angry snarls became pained grunts….

And then they were gone.

His attackers dropped him on the ground and disappeared into the night. No parting words either leaving Takeshi more confused as to who these men worked for.

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

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