You Are Mine (Bad Boy 9 Novel Collection)

by Amy Faye

  "Anything else?"

  "If everything goes alright, I'll tell you later."

  "I'm not going with you to see you get your ass kicked."

  "Well, good news, then, because there's nobody who's going to kick my ass in a fair fight."

  There was something charming about his confidence, but Minami still had her doubts, and they weren't going anywhere. If he was so sure that he was never going to lose, then why was it that this boss of his wouldn't just use him in every fight?

  He had to get tired out some time, and the beating he'd taken from Higa's goons was still fresh. She couldn't see him hurting, but she could see the ugly purple lump on his leg when he took off his pants at night. She could see the ugly brown spiderweb-bruise that crisscrossed his face, and as much as he was perfectly capable of pretending it didn't hurt, she wasn't an idiot. There was no way it wouldn't hurt.

  "You can't just keep putting yourself in a position to get hurt, Wes."

  "You're not my mother. I can do what I like."

  "Maybe I don't have to be your mother to worry about you."

  "Well, don't worry about me, how about that?"

  If only it were that simple. He was heading for disaster, and anyone could see it. Minami still held out some hope that he was going to pull her out of the Yakuza life. But how was he going to save anyone when he couldn't even save himself?

  Minami's phone buzzed. For a long moment, looking into Wesley's eyes, she wasn't going to reach for it. Finally, he turned away and pressed himself deeper into the corner of the sofa, and the moment was gone.

  She reached over and pulled the phone out, read the message.

  "I have to go."

  "That's fine. I have to go soon, too. I don't think it would be smart for you to come with me."

  "I'll give you a call, later."

  "Maybe I'll answer it," Wes answered.

  The man was absolutely incorrigible.

  She had to get home if she was going to be ready for dinner with Mr. Inafune. What was he going to be wearing? She should have asked. Her father should have asked, more accurately, but Father was anything but practical when it came to these matters.

  For that matter, he also never wore traditional clothes, so it might be that he never considered the question of whether to dress in Western or Japanese clothing, but it wasn't something that she could afford to ignore.

  After all, it might be a farce. There was no way that she was going to marry Inafune, no matter how good he looked or how well he treated her. But she at least had to keep up appearances, and there was no reason to disrespect the man, marriage or no.

  She pulled the car into the garage and nodded at Majima, cleaning the Mercedes beside her. He stopped to bow, only returning to his work as she stepped through the door into the main household. She had just about enough time to get showered and changed, if she was quick.

  If he was wearing traditional clothes the day before, it only made sense that she should err on the side of caution. And besides that, she had so few opportunities to wear her yukata, so it felt special to take it out.

  She tied the obi just in time to hear the knock at the door. Her mother stepped inside a moment later, turned her around and checked the bow, tied tight behind her.

  "Are you ready? You look great."

  "Do I?"

  "You look perfect." Mother turned her back around and pulled Minami into a tight hug. "You'll be fine."

  "Lead the way."

  Minami followed her mother down. It wasn't going to be so bad, she thought to herself. It certainly wasn't. He couldn't be as bad as Higa had been. He was younger than some of the patriarchs that she'd met with, who seemed to want a young wife as a status symbol because there was no chance of her providing them an heir.

  Not that any of it mattered, because even before she had met Wesley, she was never going to marry one of them. That was the reality. Minami wanted nothing more than to get away from the life, and she was going to—regardless of how many matchmaking meetings her father arranged.

  Minami let out a long breath when she saw him standing there, his thumbs tucked into his obi. She would have felt perfectly foolish if she were the only one wearing traditional clothing. She might have been under-dressed still, but the smile that came across his lips as he saw her told her that she hadn't done so wrong.

  The feeling of pride that swelled in her was hard to swallow. She shouldn't care much what he thought of her. She wasn't marrying him, and likely wasn't going to go on a second date. But even still, she couldn't deny the swell of pride in her chest that she'd chosen alright.

  He bowed as she approached, and she met him with a bow of her own, deep enough to be respectful.

  "Miss Shimizu."

  "Patriarch Inafune."

  "Are you ready to go?"

  "I am."

  He turned and started out the door, slipping on sandals just before he reached the door. She didn't have anything to match perfectly, but she had sandals of her own, for the rare occasions that she went out in traditional clothing. It would have looked awfully strange, after all, to wear western heels with a yukata.

  She followed a little ways behind her as they slipped into her father's Rolls Royce. Majima sat silently in the driver's seat, adjusting the mirror as they settled into their seats.

  "Patriarch Inafune?"

  He gave the name of a restaurant that Minami hadn't heard of. Clearly Japanese, however. She was already getting a sense for the man, and if Higa had been one extreme, Kondo was the exact opposite extreme. Japanese, almost militantly so. If she had to see him again, then it would be wise to always wear these clothes.

  They stepped inside the restaurant twenty minutes later, nobody particularly daring to look too closely at them. The severe expression on Inafune's face never slipped, except when he let his gaze slip over to Minami, where it softened only a bit before he looked straight ahead once more.

  Minami, on the other hand, didn't notice. She had something else to worry about. Or, perhaps more accurately, someone else. In the corner was a familiar face, the American 'Mr. Bradley' who had been so close to Higa. Higa sat across from him, visibly deep into his cups. Beside them, Wesley Park, his face looking quite unlike he'd had his nose badly broken, stared at her.

  Twenty-Two

  Wes

  Wes swallowed down the Japanese liquor and didn't particularly listen to Bradley. He definitely didn't listen to Higa, who anyone could have seen silently fuming beside him. Anyone, it seemed, except for Bradley, who didn’t seem all that panicked about any of it. He should have paid more attention, because if he'd looked, he would have already figured out exactly what had happened, and if he really wanted Wes not to fight when he was hurt, one look at Higa's face would have told him that Wes wasn't as good as he looked.

  But apparently either Todd didn't mind as much as he put on, or he wasn't looking too close at Higa's expression. Nor, thankfully, was he looking too much at Wesley's.

  That was definitely not her father, Wes knew. She wasn't sitting there like she'd sit there with her father. That was another date. One that she hadn't thought to mention. Something primal inside him overtook the knowledge that she was the furthest thing from exclusive. He hadn't asked her to be, and she hadn't promised, but it did little to quell the anger burning in his chest.

  "Isn't that right, Wes?"

  Wes grunted his agreement, not taking his eyes off Minami. She peeked over her shoulder, and clearly saw Wes watching, because she immediately looked back at her date, as if she'd seen a ghost.

  Well, let her know. It wasn't exactly a secret, and he certainly wasn't going to keep it a secret. No, he wanted her to know. Wanted her to know exactly how he felt about it, too. When he was done with her, though, there wouldn't be any way that she didn't find out.

  Bradley refilled Higa's cup with sake after he finished it. Wes finished his own cup in one long swallow that burned all the way down. Mr. Bradley filled it as well, then set the carafe back down in t
he middle of the table.

  Wes didn't taste the food as it went down, and he didn't hear the words as Todd said them. His ears heard, and his mouth tasted, but between the senses and his brain was the big, towering wall of fury. He masked it almost well enough to hide it, and the more he drank, the easier it got.

  Todd filled his cup again, and he drank it again. The alcohol was going straight to his head, but he wasn't about to stop drinking. Not when Minami was over there, laughing politely at some Jap's jokes. As if she were his woman, as if he had any right to her. The other guy was older than her, older than any of the men sitting at Wes's table. Not quite old enough to be her father, but close.

  He kept himself looking polite and respectful, distant even, but Wes wasn't fooled. He wasn't going out with her because he was her very good friend. That wasn't why she'd been out with Higa, and it wasn't why she was out with this asshole, either.

  The urge to get up and go over, to confront her right in the restaurant, was strong. He managed to stop himself by reminding himself, every couple of minutes, that he couldn't afford to blow off Bradley and Higa. They were arranging his fight, after all. If he managed to piss them off, then there was no money coming in, and he couldn't move on to the next part of his plan.

  So he sat still and waited for the anger to dissipate, and when it didn't, he just simmered in the fury until he was practically tunnel-visioned right across the room until the only thing he could see was their quiet, secluded table in the corner.

  He hadn't seen her, splayed out in that kimono—or whatever it was called—on her back, underneath him, had he? She was a Yakuza girl, who knew what sort of strange customs they had? Maybe they unwrapped their presents early in Japan.

  Wes's jaw was starting to hurt from his teeth clenching together. He loosened his fist by his side, forced himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to lose his cool. He took in a breath and turned toward Higa, whose cheeks had gone pink with drunkenness.

  He was talking about—who knew what. Mid-sentence, it was hard to say, and his accent was far too thick to make out what he was trying to say through his drunken haze, but he said it with gusto. Bradley laughed, and so Wesley laughed as well, a cruel and barking laugh that came out too loud and filled the place. In the corner of his eye, Wes could see Minami turn for a moment before turning back sharply.

  She wanted to pretend not to notice him, but anyone would have noticed that laugh. It hadn't been intentional, but knowing that he had forced her to feel uncomfortable, though not near as uncomfortable as he was angry, felt good.

  Higa raised his cup significantly. Wes raised his own, Higa said 'Kanpai' a little too loudly, and swallowed down his drink. Wes and Bradley repeated it after and drank down deep. He didn't need to speak Japanese to know it was supposed to mean 'cheers,' and know what to do. It was easy enough to copy the man, regardless of how much he'd had to drink.

  Bradley busied himself filling the cups, Higa returning the favor for Todd's own cup. Wes snorted out through his nose. It had already been a long meal, and it was only going to get longer. Minami was in for hell when she came to see him next. She wasn't going to like it one bit, what he had planned for her.

  Or maybe, he thought bitterly, maybe she would.

  He took another drink and tried to listen to the men beside him, talking glibly as if nothing strange were going on. Perhaps there wasn't, but that didn't change anything for Wes. He was furious, and no amount of drinking was going to change that. It might only make it worse.

  That was how he preferred it. By the time he made it back to the apartment, thoroughly sauced, he could feel the anger still burning, hotter than ever, deep in his chest. Minami was going to get a piece of his mind, and sooner rather than later.

  What the fuck did she think she was doing with some guy? Laughing, smiling—did she think that she could just go around with any guy who looked at her the right way? What was he? Some kind of fling?

  He sucked in breath through his nose and blew it out like a bull about to charge, slipped down into the couch and loosened up the top button on the only shirt he had that didn't look like he only fit in playing guitar in a roadhouse band or getting his ass kicked in parking garages.

  They were going to come to an understanding, Wes and her. She said she'd call him later. Well, when that happened… he closed his eyes, his heartbeat thumping in his ears, adrenaline tightening and curling in his stomach.

  The knock at the door woke him from his brief reverie, and he pushed himself up from the couch. He already knew who it was before he opened the door.

  Seeing Minami standing there in that black yukata, the leaf pattern printed onto it too stylish and refined for going out with someone else, was worse than he'd expected. He could already feel the anger, starting to dissipate with distance and tiredness, boiling over again, and now there was nobody to stop him.

  Twenty-Three

  Minami

  Minami's questions about whether or not he had noticed her with Inafune were answered as soon as he opened the door. He grabbed her by the collar of her yukata and pulled her inside, the door shutting before he said anything.

  Wesley's face was a mask of fury, and she knew exactly why. Part of her was afraid, afraid of what was thinking about doing and what he was going to do. Another part, softly, enjoyed the knowledge that she'd pulled this feeling out of him, knowing that he wouldn't be nearly so upset if he didn't think about her in ways that he would likely never admit to her directly.

  Wes grabbed her under her knees and scooped her up, drawing a little 'oof' from Minami's lips as he hefted her weight in his arms and carried her over to the bed. He dropped her, but she was ready this time, even as she fell and landed on her ass.

  He pulled at her yukata, loosening the obi more through force of will and raw strength than with any sort of grace or forethought, until he had her breast free, and then he pulled it into his mouth, biting down an instant later and drawing a choking, pained gasp from her lips.

  "Ow—don't—"

  "Quiet," Wes growled, reaching up and putting a hand on her face and twisting her off to the side, as if he just wanted to show her that he was completely in control of her body, and he was going to do whatever he wanted. She was going to let him do it, too, she knew.

  He worked the fly on his pants, freeing his already-erect cock from his pants, and maneuvered himself around to put it into her mouth. She accepted it, part of her enjoying the roughness that he was treating her with. His hand reached into the top of her yukata, pinching the nipple he hadn't managed to expose yet until it hurt.

  Minami took his cock into her mouth and he started moving almost as soon as the head touched her tongue, his body trying to impress on her how much he was in control of the situation—he was going to take his pleasure, and she was going to accept it. She did, relaxing her mouth and letting him fuck her face, his hands continuing to rub her breasts, teased already to sensitivity.

  He pulled her off and Minami gasped for air. She could see, dimly, that he wanted to say something. He closed his mouth and forced hers back onto his cock, fucking into her throat. Minami tried to relax her throat, tried to let him do what he wanted, but it didn't stop her from making loud, embarrassing, lewd choking noises with each deep thrust.

  Finally he pulled out and moved himself back between her legs, apparently deciding that it would be more satisfying to take his pleasure straight from the source. He lined himself up briefly, and then with one long, swift thrust he was all the way inside her up to the hilt, her yukata splayed out on the bed beneath her.

  "Do you like that, you fucking whore?"

  The words burned in her ears, but Minami could feel her pussy twitch at the thought, all the same.

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He took a hard grip on her shoulder and used his free hand to lift one of her legs up, pushing their bodies still closer together as he thrust in deep and hard. Minami failed to contain a moan, and as
she groaned out the mounting pleasure that he was giving her, his hand came down in a heavy slap across her cheek.

  Minami's eyes drifted closed, her body moving on its own to meet Wes's thrusts. He groaned his pleasure, then leaned down and bit her neck, hard. She knew it would leave a tender mark, and she didn't care, not any more. He was taking what he wanted from her, and she wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

  Wes took hold of her ankle and placed it on his shoulder, her hips lifting off the bed and her back arching as he fucked deeper still, finding places inside her that even after all these times she hadn't realized had ever existed. Finding pleasures she didn't realize she'd wanted until she had them, and then she knew that she couldn't live without them again.

  His cock hit her deep inside, threatening that it was too big for her, that she was going to be sore in the morning, but it didn't matter. Tomorrow didn't matter, she was here today and every thrust was another one that she couldn't refuse or deny the pleasure of.

  He let her feel another stinging slap in the face, and her body started to feel strange, the pleasure starting to overwhelm her senses. Hot tears started to stream down her cheeks, which was strange because she wasn't upset. Her body was reacting all on its own, now, her hips rising to meet his with each powerful thrust even as she cried. A mix of sensations and emotions that she couldn't be going to understand surged through her body, sending her deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of rapture that Wes had sent her on. She laid her head back and enjoyed it as orgasms started to roll over her in waves, unable to finish one before she could feel her body tightening around him again.

  Another hard slap came down, and the tears came faster, hotter, but she just wanted more, wanted him in a way that she couldn't explain. She didn't need to. Her body was doing everything she could have wanted, matching his pace perfectly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge with every almost-painful thrust.

  Wes was getting close, now. She could feel it in the way that his thrusts were coming hard and erratic, in the desperate way that he pulled her body onto him. In the way that he hunched over her, his body already starting to coil up before the pleasure of release.