“What do you know?” he says. Standard cop procedure.
I’ve known Ryan Pierce for years, but only ever in a social situation. This change in demeanour is alarming. He would be frightening in an interview room.
But I’m made of sterner stuff than that. And my life right now has not got room for cowardice.
“I helped Momoko Tanaka out last Friday.” Shit, it’s only been a week. How has my life gotten so out of hand in such a short amount of time? “Some Triads tried to abduct her on High Street.”
“Outside Sweet Seduction?” Pierce demands.
“Yeah. We got rid of them.” No way I’m telling a cop, even if Pierce is a friendly cop, that I knocked them out and Koki drove the van away from the scene. “Since then they’ve been causing problems.”
“Problems?” Pierce asks, as a guy walks up to a desk opposite and says, “You ready, Pierce?”
He nods his head, holds up a finger, and the guy walks away. A whole conversation was said in that exchange, but I’m glad I’ve not got another witness.
“Problems?” Pierce repeats.
“They broke into my house. Messed up my office. Shat on my bed. And scratched a Chinese proverb into my desk blotter.”
“Shat on your bed?” he says.
“Yeah, I get that all the time,” I reply casually.
“You don’t seem too upset about this,” Pierce remarks.
“Oh, I’m upset. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“It’s not?”
I shake my head. “The Traids are Chinese, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And only Chinese?”
“Yeah.”
“No other nationalities amongst them?”
“Well,” Pierce says, leaning back in his chair and scratching at his goatee. “There can be, I suppose.”
“Know anything about Japanese involvement in the Triads?”
He sits forward again and pegs me with a hard stare.
“You mean Yakuza and Triad kind of involvement?”
I hadn’t thought of the Yakuza. Tadashi is Japanese, but that doesn’t mean he’s a member of the Yakuza. Even if he looks like a well payed drug king.
“I’m not sure,” I admit slowly.
“Well, I can tell you that Triads would not normally work with the Yakuza and vice versa. They tend to keep things in house. Very proprietary. And as far as Yakuza in New Zealand go: They aren’t even here. But Triads,” he says and then waves a hand around the still bustling room.
They’re after the Triads? That’s what this chaos is all about?
Things start to take on a shade of holy shit. The police are planning a raid on the Triads and the Triads are hassling Momoko. What the hell does it all mean?
“Tell me something,” Pierce says quietly, leaning forward so I can hear the words. “Do you suspect Japanese involvement in the Triads or is this all hypothetical?”
“Tadashi Ishikawa,” I say.
“Don’t know him.”
“Momoko Tanaka’s…” I hesitate to say fiancée. But that’s what he is. At least until I can stop this farce of a wedding. “The man her father has arranged for her to marry,” I say instead.
Pierce doesn’t correct me. And for that I’m thankful.
“I suspect he’s tied up with the Triads somehow,” I finish by saying.
“OK,” Pierce says. “Talk me through it. First, why do you think it’s the Triads who tried to take Momoko and how do you know they broke into your home?”
“Triad tattoos.” He nods his head. “The Chinese proverb on my desk.”
“What proverb?”
“‘If you walk on snow, you cannot hide your footprints.’”
He arches his brow. “Interesting.”
“You know what it means?”
“No idea. But there’s a reason why it was left there.” He rubs the back of his neck and then asks, “And because it’s Chinese, you think it’s the Triads?”
“Who else? I haven’t pissed any Chinese people off, other than helping Momo out on Friday.”
“Momo?” he repeats. I just stare back at him. His smile is knowing. “OK, we’ll go with them being Chinese and most probably the Triads. What’s this Tadashi character got to do with it?”
“I met him yesterday. His parting words to me were to ‘watch where I tread or I might leave footprints.’”
Pierce sighs. “It’s thin, Finn. Come on, you’re a lawyer. You know a judge won’t bat an eyelash at circumstantial evidence like this.”
“I know he’s tied up in this somehow.”
“Your gut knows, but your head isn’t thinking.”
“There’s something wrong with this guy, Pierce. Something evil.”
“Do you fear for your safety?”
“I can handle myself.”
“Can you?” he asks pointedly.
And OK, I’m just a lawyer, I’m not like Nick and the others at ASI. I’m not even like Dominic, who helps out on weekends and has known how to handle a handgun since he could probably walk. But I’m also not incapable of throwing a punch when needed, or swinging a car door or baseball bat, when presented with the opportunity, at someone’s head.
And I would do anything to protect Momoko.
“I can,” I say with conviction.
“And Momoko?” Pierce asks. “Does she need our help?”
“She’s got me.” Pierce offers another raised eyebrow look. “And her brother, Koki,” I reluctantly add.
“She’s Koki’s sister? Why didn’t you say?”
“It’s irrelevant.” I’d rather not think too often of her connection to batshit crazy Koki.
“If she’s Koki’s sister, she’ll have ASI behind her.” As if having me is quite clearly not enough.
I sigh.
“Listen,” Pierce says. “Things are hot right now and your Triads are right in the middle of it. If all goes well today, they might not be thinking of small time worries such as shitting on a lawyer’s bed.”
“What are you guys doing?” I ask, flicking a glance around the now rapidly emptying room.
Pierce stands, and slips his jacket off the chair back, shrugging it onto his shoulders.
“Can’t say, my man. But why don’t you go check on Momoko. Take her somewhere safe for the rest of the day. Oh,” he adds. “It might pay to let Koki know what’s happening.”
And then he’s gone with the rest of the detectives in a mass exodus of CIB.
And I have still no fucking idea of what is happening.
“Tell Koki?” I mutter to myself as I follow them all much more sedately. “Fat fucking chance.”
But I do go to Momoko. I can’t stay away.
It takes a few long minutes and lots of hard earned practice at arguing my case to persuade Momoko to shut up shop early. But by midday we’re driving away from the Viaduct towards the eastern suburbs.
We spend a glorious couple of hours at Mission Bay, eating ice cream, sitting in the sun, walking hand and hand along the beach at the water’s edge. By the time the sun starts dipping toward Rangitoto Island, we’re slightly sunburned and windswept, but totally relaxed.
Being with Momoko is like being with a really close friend. We talk about everything. We laugh and joke, teasing each other, and then just when you think things couldn’t get better, she kisses me. Or she doesn’t say no when I kiss her instead.
It’s utter bliss. It’s an illusion. And maybe that’s why I take her home to my place. Maybe that’s why we’ve created this bubble, allowing ourselves to believe for this small moment in time, that everything is perfect, everything is exactly as it should be. That we’re safe.
I don’t think about Triads or Yakuza or Tadashi Ishikawa or Koki Tanaka or anything that could burst our little bubble. I just take the woman I’m falling in love with into my house and into my bed. It’s natural. It’s so normal, I can’t picture it any other way. In such a short amount of time, she’s become a fixture in my world. One I can’t
imagine not being there. Not being part of my life in some way.
I make love to her. I worship her. She calls me koibito, lover she says. She asks me to chuu suru, to kiss her. I’ll never say no.
We lie side by side, languid in the afterglow of sex, and whisper to each other. This woman owns me.
“I was married once,” I find myself saying. “A long time ago.” I want her to know everything. I have no secrets. Not with Momo. She’s welcome to look inside my soul and see everything that is me. I am an open book and I want her to turn the pages.
“What happened?” she asks softly, running her finger down my arm and back up again.
We’re beneath the sheet, but that’s all that covers us. My leg is between hers, her knee rests over my thigh. There is nothing separating our bodies.
“I won’t lie,” I say. “I loved her. I thought everything was perfect.” It’s strange how your sense of perfection can change. “But it wasn’t perfect for her,” I say.
Momo’s big, dark eyes stare up at me, a pool of warmth and affection. I wonder if she loves me. I wonder if she’s fallen as hard as I’ve fallen for her. We’re living in a storybook and one I fear will not end happily ever after.
“It’s mundane,” I say. “Nothing extraordinary.” I shrug my shoulder. It no longer pains me to talk about this. “She met someone else. Fell in love. Left me.”
“Finn,” Momo says. I’m not sure what else she wants to say, but I quieten her with a kiss. It’s soft and warm and says, “It’s OK. I’m OK. I’ve got this.”
But even though these moments with Momoko are bittersweet perfection, I know our time is running out. I’m not sure what’s happening with the Triads, what Pierce and his detectives from CIB are doing right now. But I do know that Tadashi Ishikawa won’t go away.
“Are you going to marry him?” I ask. Her hand stills on my arm.
The bubble breaks.
“I have no choice,” she says.
“Why, Momo?” I ask. “Please. Tell me why?”
She stares at me a long moment, and I’m sure she’s not going to open up. But maybe because I have, because I’ve laid myself so bare, she starts to talk.
And I listen. Because I’ll always listen to what this woman has to say.
“My father,” she starts, and it always seems to start with him. “He was Yakuza back in Japan.”
I’m strangely not as surprised as I should be. It explains a lot. His hiding away down here to “get out.” The way he controls his children. Koki’s zeal when it comes to working for Nick. Momoko’s belief she has to obey her father. Tanaka-sama is not someone to thwart.
“They did not wish for him to leave, but he sought his freedom,” she says. “For many years, he believed he was free.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“The Triads happened,” she says bleakly. “They found out who he was. Who he still is. Even apart from the Yakuza, you are still considered family.”
“They’re blackmailing him,” I say, putting the pieces together. They threaten his daughter’s business, they threaten him. But what does Tanaka senior plan to do about it?
“Yes,” Momo says simply. “Papa had to seek help.”
“And the payment was Tadashi,” I guess.
She nods her head.
“The help didn’t work,” I point out. “The Triads are still blackmailing you. They’ve escalated even. To abduction and assault. Vandalism.”
“Tadashi is a downpayment, so to speak. He must be paid in full first, before the Yakuza will make their move.”
It doesn’t seem like a very fair exchange. If you can call this type of thing fair, that is. But I would have thought Momo’s father would have more business sense than that. And I can’t imagine Koki agreeing to any of this.
I open my mouth to argue that point when a crash out in another part of the house has us both stilling. We’re naked. I don’t own a baseball bat. The gun is locked away safely in the boot of my car in the garage. I lift my head and search for my jacket, knowing the taser is in there somewhere.
But my jacket is out in the lounge, where we first starting stripping before we reached the bed. Our clothes strewn over the furniture and floor, laying a nice trail of breadcrumbs to our defenceless bodies.
“Get up,” I say, moving out from under the sheet.
I’m standing, naked, unarmed, when they walk into the room.
I was expecting the Triads. But an inappropriate laugh escapes when I realise it’s the Yakuza.
Tadashi Ishikawa stands behind an older Japanese man. Koki Tanaka at his side.
So, this is Tanaka-sama? This is the tyrant who sells his daughter for a measure of protection.
I sneer at him before I can stop myself.
He snaps out words in Japanese, making Momoko jump. She slides off the bed, taking the sheet with her, hiding herself from the three men. Mr Tanaka turns his steely gaze toward me. I see disdain, judgement, and an anger that rivals my own.
“How dare you?” I say. “You have no right…”
He slashes his hand through the air and Tadashi moves like lightning. Even if I did have my taser, I couldn’t have raised my hand quick enough.
Koki cringes when Tadashi’s fist connects with my cheek. I stumble, and almost fall flat on my very naked arse, but not before I reach out and punch Tadashi in the stomach. He doubles over and I lift my knee, aiming for his nose. He moves sideways, dodging the blow and landing a jab into my kidneys. I grunt out a breath of air and throw a flurry of punches into his side. He wraps his arms around me and returns the favour.
It’s several long and frantic seconds of sharp pain and ragged breaths and dizzying nausea. But at a snap of Tanaka-sama’s fingers, Tadashi pulls back. I’m huffing and puffing and bent over slightly, protecting my ribs, but I smile when I see blood dripping from Tadashi’s nose. Maybe my knee did connect.
“You will not see Momoko again,” the old man says calmly. As if two blokes haven’t just had it out over his daughter in front of him, and one of them is stark naked.
I take a step to the side, keeping my eyes on all of them, and pull out a pair of track pants from my dresser. Shoving them on a little more forcefully than I should, I say, “I think that’s for Momoko to decide. Not you.”
“She is not yours,” the old man says simply.
“She is not yours to barter off to the highest bidder!” I snap back.
Tanaka-sama doesn’t even blink at my outrage. This man is a cold fish. How can Momoko, who is warm and full of laughter, come from such a frigid beast?
“Momoko!” He clicks his fingers again, as if she’s a dog. I step between them. He growls something out in Japanese.
“Finn,” Momo says softly from behind me. My heart breaks. Her small hand lands on my shoulder.
“Don’t go,” I say, turning to face her. Putting my back to the threat in the room. But also keeping me between her and the danger.
“He is my father.”
“There has to be a way. This isn’t the answer.”
She smiles up at me, it’s wistful and sad and full of something that shatters what remains intact inside me.
She’s fallen for me, like I have fallen for her.
“Momoko,” Tadashi says interrupting the epiphany. “Obey your father.”
I spin toward him, my fists up, rage burning in my eyes, but it’s Koki who steps between us. He shakes his head abruptly, a small movement I’m not sure I even see correctly. Then mutters something like, “I’m sorry,” almost too low for me to hear, and certainly too low for the others to detect.
And then he punches me in the face.
The room spins. Momo screams. And the hardwood floor comes up to greet me.
Chapter 14
And Make Our World Red
Drew
The office is dark and Auckland City lies before us in all its multicoloured splendour. The lights are on in the high-rise building opposite ours. Someone's working late in there to catch up on
business. From their vantage point, they could simply look across Queen Street and into my window.
And see me fucking my wife.
Kelly lets out a gasp as I wrap my hand around the front of her throat, resting my hot palm there. I don’t squeeze; I’m not that kind of guy. But my sternchen, my little star, likes to be taken possessively. I can oblige. She is completely and utterly mine.
I made sure of it.
“Can you see them?” I ask, as I run my free hand up the side of her silky dress and cup her breast. I tweak her already hard nipple through the fabric of her bodice.
“Yes,” she husks, hot breath misting the window before her lips.
“Do you think they can see you?”
“Maybe,” she says. “It is dark in here.”
“But so much ambient light outside,” I argue. “Surely some of it illuminates your pretty face. Your fucking beautiful breasts.”
I pull the edge of her dress down underneath one tit, exposing it, and then do the same to the other. Her nipples are hard, deep red against pale skin. I’m quite sure no one can really see us, but there’s a chance that they can.
And if they can, they’ll see my wife’s beautiful bust offered up for their inspection.
“Drew,” she murmurs, rocking her arse back against my straining erection. The head of my cock presses against my belt buckle.
“Place your hands on the glass,” I say.
She takes her time; Kelly likes to be in charge, too, sometimes. But not tonight. She’s teased me all day. Little phone calls telling me she’s hot and horny. Text messages about how she wants to suck my cock in the bathroom at Sweet Seduction.
We’re skipping Family Friday to go to the opera, so that little fantasy won’t work. I was tempted to get her to blow me in the car at the parking garage at Aotea Square, just outside the theatre. But we haven’t even made it out of ADK yet.
“This is what happens when you tease me, Kelly,” I say, pushing the long, slinky material of her dress up over her arse.
She’s wearing a thong, it’s red and barely there. Her arse checks are bared to the cool air in my office. I’m tempted to spin her around and press her back against the window, let the world see what a spectacular butt my wife has.
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