I have no idea who he is, but he’s Japanese. And Momo knows him.
“Tadashi-san,” she says and my whole body turns to stone at the words.
“Momoko-san,” he replies, bowing deeply. It’s old school, and I see now why Mr Tanaka has chosen him. Rich. Suave. And well mannered.
It doesn’t help my cause that he’s Japanese.
Tadashi-san sweeps an uninterested gaze over me and then approaches Momoko. She’s as stiff as a board, but maintains her composure.
“I was wondering if we could have dinner,” he says. “The wedding is approaching and there is much to organise.”
“Everything is organised, Tadashi-san,” Momoko replies steadily.
She doesn’t look at me. Neither of them do. But for Momo, it’s because she’s protecting me. And for Tadashi, it’s because he’s making a point.
I’m not sure if he knows who I am or why I’m here. But if he doesn’t, he’s assuming I’m a customer and therefore not important. And if he does, he’s making his intentions clear.
He reaches out and grips one of Momo’s hands, lifting it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. I doubt that’s traditional Japanese courtship material. He’s stamping his claim. It’s so fucking obvious.
I force myself to lean back against the counter, as though the display is unworthy of my attention. I fiddle with an orchid in a pot beside the cash register. Noting the large dent on its left side. I stare at it a little too long, which works wonders because Tadashi is getting hot under the collar.
Clearly I’m not threatened enough.
“Who is your friend?” he demands.
For a moment I think Momoko will say, “No one.” The kind of thing that slips off your tongue when you’re frantically trying to draw attention away from someone. But Momo has more decorum than that.
She lifts her chin and smiles benignly, and then introduces us.
“Tadashi Ishikawa of Kyoto. Finn Drake of Anscombe, Drake and Kline.”
I find it interesting that Tadashi has no business associations here, and is still referred to as coming from Japan. His English is good, clipped, a little British in fact. He hasn’t been raised in New Zealand, then. He’s an import, and a new one too.
I wonder why he came here.
“A lawyer?” Tadashi says. Giving me a disparaging look. “Do you require legal assistance, konyakusha?”
Momoko frowns at him. Perhaps at the term of endearment. I can only assume it’s a term of endearment, because Tadashi flashes a smirk at her when she reacts, then flicks his gaze immediately to me to see if I’m watching.
I’m ashamed to say I am. I feel like I’m in the presence of a viper. I can’t not look at this man for fear he might strike at me.
“He is a friend, Tadashi-san,” Momoko says.
“A friend,” Tadashi repeats and there’s something sinister in the way he says it. “Tell me, friend,” he directs to me. “Are you aware this woman is engaged to be married?”
How do I answer that? Forced to be married, don’t you mean? Only against her will? Not yet? A number of replies flash through my head, all of them telling. I don’t want this man to know too much. Not yet.
Not when I don’t know enough about him.
“Congratulations,” I say and then return my attention to the orchid. Momoko smiles a private smile just for me.
Tadashi continues to watch me, then turns those sharp eyes back on his fiancée.
“Dinner. Tonight,” he clips. “Wear something red.”
Like the red silk dress she was wearing when I first met her? My eyes narrow at the man. Had that been where Momoko had been coming from? A dinner date with Tadashi?
“Silk if you have it,” he says, turning to leave. “If you don’t, I’ll bring something. You can model it for me before we leave.”
I think Momoko’s just going to let him go. My fists are clenched. My jaw aches, I’m gritting my teeth so hard.
But then she says, “I have plans tonight, Tadashi-san.”
“Cancel them,” he snaps, rounding on her again.
This man is an arsehole. It’s bad enough that her life is sold off to whomever her father deems necessary, but he has to choose a dickhead like this?
“Gen will be so disappointed if you don’t show,” I say in a soft voice. It’s not a voice I use often. Only when faced with a particularly nasty soon-to-be-ex-spouse across a mediation table. I protect those who come to me for help. I may not throw punches or wave around guns, but I do know how to win an argument.
“Who is Gen?” Tadashi asks.
“A friend of Koki’s,” I say.
“You know Koki?” he demands.
“I know everyone.” And OK, that’s a bit of a stretch, but let him think I’ve got contacts. I do have ASI at my back.
Kind of.
“Regardless,” Tadashi says, turning back to Momo, “I wish to have dinner with my konyakusha. You will send your apologies.”
Momoko wavers. I see it in her eyes. I see it in the rigid way she stands there, glaring daggers at her soon-to-be-husband.
“No can do,” I say cheerfully. “Momoko is the guest of honour. Everything has been planned. You’re welcome to attend, of course. Who wouldn’t want the groom to be there?” I say with a chuckle. “But between you and me,” I add, stepping closer, lowering my voice, making it look like I don’t want Momo to hear, “it’s meant to be a surprise. An impromptu bachelorette party. The whole gang’s going to be there. Nick and Eva, Jason and Katie, Ben and Abi. You know,” I say, slapping him on the back of his shoulder, “ASI. That’s Anscombe Securities and Investigations,” I explain, in case he doesn’t get it. “Koki insisted,” I finish up and smile.
He narrows his eyes at me. I’m not sure, but I think I see my death in his dark irises. Or I’m just overly sensitive and want this to be done with already.
I hold my breath, then realise that’s a fucking ridiculous thing to do, so fish inside my pocket and pull out my cigarettes instead. Maybe that’s a tell too, because Tadashi smiles. I’m not sure I ever want to be on the receiving end of one of his smiles ever again after this.
“Very well, konyakusha,” he says, turning to catch Momoko’s shudder. His smile broadens. “There will be many nights when I can have you to myself in the future.” He leans forward to deliver his last remark. I want to throttle him. My hand rests on the outline of the taser. I can see myself doing it; pulling it out and pressing it to the back of his neck. I stare so hard at the spot imagining the carnage that I almost miss it. His parting words to my woman. “And I intend to have you,” he whispers loudly. Loud enough for me to hear. “Every which way I can.”
Motherfucking cocksucking bastard.
I take a step. He spins around and faces me.
“Mr Drake,” he says. “A pleasure.” It wasn’t. We’re both sneering at each other.
I watch him walk past and think that’s it. It’s over. My eyes catch Momo’s. I’m pretty certain she needs me to catch her in some other way. I move, getting closer, when I should have just stood still and waited for the creep to leave.
Tadashi stops at the door to the florist, the sun has set, the street illuminated by lamplights. He’s haloed in the artificial glow when he turns to stare directly at me.
“Be careful where you tread, Finn Drake,” he warns. “You might leave footprints.”
And then he’s gone and Momoko is wrapping her arms around me, crushing me to her as she trembles, and all I can think is he knows. He knows about the proverb.
Or he was the one who left it.
Chapter 12
And When I Think Of Them, I’ll Be Somewhere Safe
Pierce
“Hey, Dad,” Daisy says as she enters the bullpen. She’s carrying a brown paper bag, grease darkens the lower portion of it. I lick my lips in anticipation.
“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?”
“Mum wanted to come in and say hello before we head across the bridge. She said yo
u’re working a case and won’t be home until late.”
“Mmm,” I say, gladly accepting the paper bag full of goodness. “Harvey and I are working on something tricky, she’s right.”
I fish out a donut hole and shove it my mouth before I say too much. This case is big. Everyone’s working it. Even HEAT Investigation has been called in, much to Lara’s amusement.
Daisy props herself up on my desk. For eleven years old, she’s looking so grown up. Her blonde curls are still unruly, but she’s got her mother’s serene demeanour and carries herself like a runway model. Even dresses like one, much to my wallet’s bemusement.
“Where is she?” I ask, looking toward the door to CIB eagerly.
“We bumped into Lara outside and Lara’s all over Poppy.”
“Well, can you blame her? Poppy’s gorgeous, much like her older sister.”
“Dad,” she says, but blushes.
“How’s school, Princess?” I ask, smearing donut sugar all over my fingers. I lick them clean, thinking inappropriate thoughts of how I licked them clean of something equally as delicious early this morning.
“It’s good. Caitlin and I are doing candles for our science project.”
“How does one do candles?” I say, as Marie, Lara and Poppy finally walk into the room. My eyes lock onto my wife’s. She smiles. For a few seconds, I have trouble listening to Daisy.
“Did you hear me?” she demands sassily, as only a pre-teen can. “We’re timing them to see which colour burns the fastest.”
“Which colour do you think will win?” I ask, as Poppy comes trotting over on stubby little legs, hands outstretched and grasping, angling to be cuddled.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I murmur, lifting her up and snuggling my face into the crook of her neck.
“White,” Daisy says. “‘Cause it’s not got any added colour.”
“Good thought,” I say, as Lara and Marie make it to my desk.
Lara throws herself into Harvey’s chair opposite me, and promptly puts her feet up on the table.
“Got any holes left for me?” she asks. I chuck her the bag, she snatches it out of the air with one hand, and offers Daisy a wink.
“Hey, babe,” Marie murmurs and leans down for a kiss.
My hand slips behind her nape before I can stop myself and I deepen the kiss until Daisy says, “Gee, get a frickin’ room.”
“Daisy!” both Marie and I exclaim pulling apart. “Language,” Marie adds, taking a seat and settling in.
“Are you too busy to talk to us?” she asks.
“Never too busy for you, Tiger,” I say.
She smiles again, a small blush pinking her cheeks. I had her purring pretty damn good this morning. My Tiger likes being woken up with her man between her legs.
And I like feasting before I have to hit the road and face what the day might bring.
Her blush deepens at whatever she sees in my eyes. I try to remain PG rated.
Marie and Lara start talking about schools up in Whanaparaoa, but all I can do is watch my wife. She’s animated. Bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She’s full of life and love and everything that makes it easier to breathe. I can’t help reminiscing about this morning. About the way she arched her back, let out soft mewls of delight, and came all over my face and fingers.
I lick a finger now, pretending I’ve still got sugar coating them. The taste that bursts on my tongue isn’t sucrose but honey. Marie’s honey. Or at least, my recollection of it.
I want nothing more than to take our kids, head out to the car, and drive across that bridge to home. But when Hart walks into the bullpen, a scowl marring his features, I know work has to come first this time.
Auckland doesn’t get many serial killers, so when one crosses our desk, we make it a priority.
Inspector Hart doesn’t stop to say hello, but he does nod his head in greeting, and purposely flicks his chin toward his office. I sigh, nod back, and then hand Poppy over to Daisy.
“Daddy’s gotta work,” I whisper, kissing our youngest on the forehead and then doing the same to Daisy. I’ll keep kissing that kid until she tells me otherwise. So far, Daisy’s still all about the hugs and kisses.
I stare down at my women. My three beautiful, perfect, stunning women. Lara snorts, says something about time for another one, and then salutes my girls and heads toward Hart’s office.
“Is everything all right?” Marie asks.
I reach up and cup her cheek, stare into her eyes and say, “Perfect. Everything is perfect, Tiger.”
Marie smirks. “Maybe Lara’s right,” she says.
“Right?”
“It is time for another one.”
My mouth opens but no sound comes out.
Marie stills. I think she might pale slightly. “This is not how I wanted to tell you,” she whispers, sounding mortified.
And I get it, but Hart yells to hurry up through his still open doorway, and Marie offers a small smile and turns to go.
Oh, hell no!
“Marie!” I say firmly. The kids still, watching from several feet away. “Come here, babe,” I demand.
I know Hart is looking on impatiently from his office, maybe Harvey and Lara and the other guys are as well, I don’t know. But I reach out when Marie gets close enough, wrap my hand around the nape of her neck, and kiss her soundly.
A few catcalls and dirty words go flying, but I kiss my wife soundly. Telling her through my lips and teeth and tongue how much I love her. How much I love our life. Our kids. Those we have and those we might yet still have.
It’s unexpected, I won’t lie. But it’s perfect. Because it’s with Marie. Because it means Daisy gets to be a big sister again. And Poppy gets to be a big sister for the first time. And three is better than two, because, fuck it! I’ll take any I can get with this woman.
A miracle. That’s what she is. My miracle. She came into my life and made it better. She filled a gap I hadn’t known was there. She makes me whole. She makes me rich with love and laughter.
“Perfect,” I whisper against her lips. “And if it’s a girl, I like Rose.”
“Rose,” she says and smiles. It’s shockingly beautiful. And for a second, I simply can’t breathe.
And then I’m kissing her again and Hart is swearing bloody murder and the guys are laughing their arses off and I. Don’t. Care.
I hold out an arm for Daisy and her sister to come over, and then wrap my girls up in a bear hug, savouring everything.
“I love you,” I say to them all.
“Dad!” Daisy complains, but she doesn’t pull free from my loving.
For however long they let me, I’m going to hug and kiss my daughters every single day.
No one in this family will ever doubt my love. I may not be there every moment of every day, my job takes me places that are dark and forbidding and demand long hours. But when they think of me, they’ll think of hugs and kisses, love and laughter.
And when I think of them, I’ll be somewhere safe.
Chapter 13
The Room Spins
Finn
It’s late in the morning on Friday when I make it to the police station. I feel like a cork bobbing in water, being buffeted from one place to the next. Even here, inside the Criminal Investigations Bureau, I get jostled and bumped, spun around and then completely overlooked.
Something’s got them riled.
I’ve never been here before. My type of legal representation rarely finds itself in the heart of the Central Police Station. Most of my battles are carried out over a desk, inside a contract, or sometimes through mediation. But occasionally, I’ve had to help out those who’ve gotten a little carried away. Divorce is so final. And so emotional. Tempers can flare. Patience can be in short supply.
But never have I found myself in here. In CIB itself, while they’re in the throws of gearing up for a massive investigation.
I wonder idly just what has got them so excited. Something big is about to go down in Auckland City and
I need to let Dominic and Drew know. Hell, maybe I should let Nick Anscombe know. Because they’re putting on stab vests and checking their weapons and about to head out to do God knows what.
I almost get up and leave, but I was told to sit here and “Don’t move an inch.” So, I wait and I watch, and more and more I wonder if the boot in my car will be “investigated” and someone will say my firearms license is a joke and lock me in a cell and throw away the key.
I snort. Some lawyer I am.
“What’s so funny, my man?” Ryan Pierce asks as he finally approaches the desk.
“You guys are busy,” I reply without thinking.
“And that’s funny?”
“No,” I say. “No, it’s not.”
Pierce just stares at me.
“You wanted to ask me something?” he says eventually.
I straighten myself up and try to be the educated, well adjusted man that I am. I think I might be failing miserably, because Pierce sighs, pulls out a chair, and sits down.
“What’s up, Finn?” he asks more reasonably.
“I don’t want to hold you up,” I start.
“You’ve never stepped foot in here before,” Pierce interrupts, “so I have to think there’s a decent reason. You’re not a sensationalist, either. So whatever it is is probably serious. Let’s cut the crap and get right to it, yeah? What do you need?”
I watch as the chaos continues to unfold around us, like rippling water over boulders in a stream. We’re stationary in the middle of the current, while the detritus of an overflowing river passes us by. I can’t help feeling I’m out of my depth. But Pierce’s words are genuine. The look he gives me concerned. In the middle of all of this mayhem, he’s taking the time to slow things down and hear what I’ve come here to ask.
He’s a good man. I hope I’m not wasting his time.
“What do you know about the 14K Triads?” I say, cutting to the chase just like he asked.
He was already still, but now he’s a statue. And I stare at the chaos around us again and begin to wonder.
Sweet Seduction Sayonara Page 11