The Undertow (The Kuroda Yakuza Series Book 2)

by Amano, Mia

  “Oh, him?” I shrug, trying to sound uninterested. “Just some guy I happen to know. No-one special.”

  Ryan regards me with an appraising glance. “So it’s your first time in Tokyo, and you just happen to know a guy who rolls with the Japanese mob?”

  “He’s not exactly-” I catch myself mid-sentence and sigh, running a hand through my hair. There’s no point denying what Kaito is. “I mean, I met him in the States. We’re acquainted.”

  “The way he was looking at you, girl, says to me you’re more than just acquainted.” Maya’s expression is skeptical. She regards me in a wily kind of way. “Seems to me like you got a thing for him too. I saw the way you were acting when you were with him. Too bad the asshole took my damn camera.”

  “I’ll get it back for you,” I console her. “Don’t worry. He’s not that bad. It looks like he saved our asses back there.”

  Maya laughs. “Says you. I thought these Japanese boys were supposed to be all polite and well mannered, but those people in front of the temple looked like some mean-ass thugs.” She takes a deep breath. “Guys, I’m sorry for getting carried away and almost getting us into trouble like that. It was a bit stupid of me. I just found it fascinating, that’s all. The photographer in me couldn’t resist. I get the feeling there’s a lot more to this place than what we see on the surface.”

  Ryan narrows his eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re okay to get her camera back? You don’t have to, you know. Especially if it’s going to get you into trouble. That guy didn’t seem like the most friendly type. I’d be careful, if I were you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” The words come out sounding confident, even blasé. But that’s because I know Kaito would never hurt me. And I’m looking forward to seeing him again. Even if he’s still angry with me.

  “You’re interesting, Adele.” Maya shares a quick, unspoken look of understanding with her brother. “That was really unexpected. But you know what?” She leans in conspiratorially. “Your friend is really hot. You know, scary hot. If you’re into that kind of thing. I wish I could get a few moody portrait shots of him, actually. They’d go down really well with the article I’m writing on Japanese subculture. Fascinating.”

  Ryan rolls his eyes as I give Maya a deadpan, sidelong look. “You wanna ask him? Go right ahead.”

  “Uh, hell no. I don’t want to die. Just wishful thinking.”

  She’s right about one thing. Kaito is damn hot. I don’t think he’s really aware of the effect he has on me, even when he’s in pissed off mode. I need to find that man and convince him that I’m not going anywhere.

  Even if he has to do unsavory things while he’s here.

  Even if it means I see a side of him he’d rather keep hidden from me.

  If we’re going to stay together, I have to know all of him. No barriers, no hiding, no mysteries.

  Sooner or later, I’m going to hear from him. Maybe Maya’s right. Maybe it’s the scary side of him that draws me in. Because it’s a part of him, as much as the gentle, protective side I’ve seen.

  I’ve always been drawn to complicated, beautiful things. It shows in my art. And I suppose it shows in my choice of partners.

  But I can’t help but wonder what else I’m going to find out, navigating this dense, endless metropolis, where Kaito is likely to slip back into the ways of his old life.

  A small part of me is scared of what I might see. This thing Kaito and I have going has been amazing. But is what we have now just an illusion? Am I going to wake up one day and realize the man I’ve been with is, deep down, someone monstrous; someone I should run from? Maybe that’s why he wanted me to stay behind in Bangkok. Maybe I’m just attracted to the danger, the allure of a man like him.

  I don’t think so, but one can never be totally sure.

  Whatever the truth, I just can’t stay away. I’m mesmerized, and hopelessly addicted.

  As I scratch beneath the surface, and delve into the mysterious, dark world of this layered, complex culture, what am I going to find, really?

  One thing’s for sure. I need Kaito. The arousal I feel spreading between my thighs tells me that much.

  And as Maya said, this place is fascinating.

  So far, I’m glad I came.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kaito

  I leave the temple by the side exit, fading into the background after I pay my respects to the family. The Ishidas are surrounded by mourners, with Erika taking her place in the centre like an empress, and her husband, Kenichi Goto, to her right. The two seated beside her look like siblings; a sister and a brother, both in their thirties. The resemblance is striking. But I’ve never seen them before. They’re probably not directly involved with Kuroda-kai business.

  With the kind of money Hajime Ishida made in his lifetime, his family members can afford to go anywhere and do anything.

  Erika is the one to watch out for. I know she's had a lot more to do with the day to day affairs of the Kuroda-kai than she lets on. She would be the best successor. But the yakuza is a male dominated society, and even though there have been women who have wielded great influence, they’ve done so from the shadows.

  Just like regular society, there are rules to follow, traditions to uphold.

  As I approached the family, Erika greeted me with warmth in her low, resonant voice, and I responded with a deep bow, aware of the curious eyes on me.

  But I pass by mostly unnoticed as I leave, just another visitor, with a few nods of recognition here and there. After my first, spectacular failure as a debt collector, I was never really involved with the day to day business of the Kuroda-kai.

  The local bosses had nothing to do with me. I stayed away from the gambling, the protection rackets, the drug trafficking, the sex trade. Most guys who had an ear to the ground knew I answered directly to the Kumicho. And they could guess what that meant.

  So for the most part, I was left alone. Mostly out of fear.

  The yakuza is a deeply social organization, but I was happy to exist on the outskirts. Solidarity came with the territory.

  And I have never worked well with others.

  I take a circuitous route around several blocks to reach my car, which is still parked on the side of the street. It’s exactly where I stopped, slamming on the brakes when I caught sight of her.

  I had to do a double take. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. What the hell was my Adele doing outside Gokoku-ji, when I told her to wait for me in Bangkok? And somehow, she’s already found a couple of friends.

  On catching sight of her, anger and desire flared in me like a sudden storm. That stubborn, impulsive woman. But a part of me was fiercely glad to see her.

  Then I realized several young punks were surrounding them, targeting the African-American girl with the camera. In a way they were right; that crazy woman had no business taking photos at a funeral.

  But for their safety, I had to intervene. So I told the punks to fuck off; that I needed a new camera, that the police were watching across the street and they wouldn’t get anywhere with these gai-jin Americans, because these junior Kuroda underlings spoke barely a word of English. In the end, they saw my forceful logic, choosing to retreat and let me deal with it, rather than risk the attention of the cops.

  Adele and her friends were lucky, because I knew what was going to happen to them next, if I hadn’t intervened. They would have been followed, beaten up and robbed. Any attempt to file a complaint with the police would have been met with blank indifference.

  I toss the camera on the back seat, sliding into the driver’s side. The car is a black E Class Mercedes, borrowed from Erika’s people. Iida handed over the keys grudgingly, advising me to bring it back in one piece. He told me Erika had insisted I have a decent set of wheels.

  I still don’t know why I’m getting the priority treatment.

  As I turn the keys in the ignition, there’s a sharp rap on my window. I press the switch and the tinted glass slides down
smoothly, revealing a man in a slightly rumpled blue suit.

  This guy’s got a day’s worth of stubble and the flat, tired gaze of a cop.

  “Can I help you?” I keep my voice neutral.

  “Police.” He addresses me in Japanese, flashing a badge. I take in the name and rank. Matsuda. He’s a detective. “I need to see that camera.”

  I pause, looking him up and down. “And what probable cause can you demonstrate, detective? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I saw you intimidating those tourists. That makes the camera stolen property.”

  I shake my head slowly, putting on my best innocent, surprised expression. “It’s not stolen at all. I know those tourists personally. You saw those three chinpira trying to cause trouble.” I use the derogatory Japanese word, referring to them as low-life thugs. “I just intervened, and told her I would look after the camera for a while, so these brats would stop harassing her. I’ll call one of them, if you need proof.” I pull out my phone. “You’ll have to speak to her in English, though.”

  The cop stares at me in surprise, irritation crossing his grizzled face. I know he’s thinking he doesn’t want to lose face by admitting he can’t speak English.

  And I’m well within my rights not to hand over the camera. He doesn’t have shit on me and he knows it.

  I need to get rid of the pictures on that camera. Yakuza funerals always attract cops and reporters like flies. The cops like to watch us and try and figure out the hierarchies. It gives them a chance to put names to faces.

  “Can I please go now, officer?” I take a moment to study Matsuda. He’s got a bit of a paunch and the slightly flushed skin of a drinker. Typical cop. If he weren't targeting me, I wouldn’t be half surprised to find him on the Kuroda payroll. Pay them well enough, and they turn a blind eye.

  Matsuda grunts. “Your type should stay away from the tourists. It’s not a good look for our country.”

  “Hai, detective.” I start the car, leaving the guy standing on the sidewalk. I have no intention whatsoever of staying away from the ‘tourists’, as he puts it. Especially one tourist in particular. She ignored my advice and followed me here. We still need to fucking talk. I’m not finished with her yet.

  Adele

  I get off the train at Asakusa Station, leaving Maya and Ryan to continue on their route to downtown Tokyo. Seeing Kaito at the funeral has shaken me more than I care to admit, and my enthusiasm for sightseeing in the company of others has cooled. Feeling a sudden desire to be on my own, I decide to go for a walk instead, and explore the local neighborhood. I stroll for a few blocks and turn down a long arcade lined with stalls. The tiny shops are adorned with colourful paper lanterns and and bright, exotic souvenirs.

  I'm contemplating buying stuff I dont need when my phone rings.

  "Where are you?" Kaito. His voice is low, and filled with the heat of his anger, sending an unexpected thrill through me.

  "Asakusa," I reply. "I'm heading down that long arcade, towards a temple. You know the place I'm talking about?"

  "It's called Senso-ji. Wait for me there." He hangs up. That was abrupt. Kaito sounds like he's still angry.

  After taking my time to browse a few more shops, I reach the temple, an imposing red structure with an ornate grey-tiled roof. Behind it is an elegant, tiered pagoda.

  Tourists and locals mill around in the square, snapping photos or climbing the wide steps to enter the temple itself. I take a moment to look around. A group of raucous high school girls passes by, dressed in blazers, knee high socks and short skirts. They're talking loudly in a tone that's at odds with their prim uniforms.

  I'm pretty sure they're talking about dirty stuff. That's what teenagers do.

  The space around the temple is an odd mix of historical and modern, buildings from a bygone era hemmed in on either side by steel and glass. People pass me by, old and young, Japanese and foreigner alike, caught up in the hustle and flow of everyday life. Here, the wildness of humanity feels as if it's been pulled into shape by tradition.

  Kaito's a bit like that. He's got rules to follow, but he can't help but break them sometimes. He did that with me.

  Sometimes I feel as if his true self is still halfway buried underneath that reserved, secretive exterior.

  I stare up at the ancient temple, appreciating its stillness amongst the bustle of the city. I'm so taken in by the scene before me that I don't notice Kaito behind me until he whispers in my ear.

  "That temple is dedicated to Kannon, the goddess of mercy. You'd better pray to her."

  I spin around, startled. Seriously, the man can be like a ghost sometimes. "When did you get here?" I ask, my voice a little bit more high-pitched than usual. "And what do you mean, pray?"

  "Because when I'm through with you, you're going to need Kannon, Adele."

  "I hope you mean that in a good way," I say slowly, taking him in. He's ditched the black tie but kept the dark glasses. Tension radiates off him, reflected in the stiff line of his shoulders and the hard angle of his jaw.

  Kaito shakes his head. "Listening isn't your strong point, is it?"

  I shrug. "I'm more of a visually oriented person."

  "I told you to stay away from Tokyo."

  "I'm here now."

  "You shouldn't be here. Where are you staying? With those Americans?"

  "I've booked a room at a guest house." I step a little closer to him, glancing up at his stony face. Kaito's about a head taller than me. His expression is unreadable.

  Sometimes I can figure him out, sometimes I can't. It's as if he chooses when to erect his barriers. He's hiding himself from me now, behind his dark glasses and frosty demeanour.

  Which tells me that he's seriously pissed off.

  "And when were you going to tell me you were here?" His voice is soft and low, tightly controlled.

  "I figured I'd get to know the place first."

  "And your idea of that is visitng the neighborhood where the Kumicho's funeral is being held?"

  "We didn't know, honestly. We were just going to visit that temple. What were the chances?" A nervous laugh escapes me. Kaito stares back with a frosty expression. Apparently, he doesn't share the humor.

  "You should leave." Kaito motions for us to start walking as a group of tourists crowds the steps of the temple. "Go back to LA."

  "No way." Irritation starts to work its way into my voice. "I'm enjoying myself here. And I have my own business to chase up. I have a possible lead with an art gallery. I promise, Kaito, that I'll stay away from anything dangerous. I learnt my lesson after stumbling on that funeral. But I want to make the most of my time here. You don't own this fucking town."

  Kaito looks me up and down, removing his sunglasses. "No. But the people I work for do."

  "And what am I to them? I doubt they'll pay much attention to someone like me." We cross over into a street lined with shops. "I always wanted to visit Japan with you, Kaito. For some reason I hoped you might show me this place, one day. I want to know more about you, about the places that shaped you."

  We turn into a narrow, empty sidestreet. Kaito stops, turning to stare at me. "You have a tendency to stare dangerous things in the face, Adele, and do what you want anyway. Sometimes I don't know if you're incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid."

  "If I let the things that scare me get the better of me, I wouldn't be with you, idiot."

  Kaito looks at me, his dark eyes roaming over my face, dropping down to the hollow of my neck, tracing my breasts, my hips. It's a slow-burning, blatantly possessive look. I'm wearing black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt, but he's looking at me as if I'm wearing nothing but the skin I was born in.

  "I don't know whether to put you on the next plane to LA or take you back to my house and fuck you until you can't walk," he says slowly.

  "Your choice," I shrug. "I know which one I'd prefer."

  Kaito doesn't say anything, but the look he gives me tells me everything.

  He's not putting me o
n that plane.

  There's a black car parked at the end of the street. Kaito presses a button and its lights flash. He motions for me to follow him. "Get in."

  I eye the sleek vehicle with suspicion. "Not until you tell me where we're going."

  That's when Kaito goes still, his gaze turning sharp. His eyes flick to the right, for just a split second. "Listen carefully now, Adele. We're being followed. So just get in the fucking car."

  There's tightly restrained urgency in his voice. I instinctively start to turn, but he moves beside me, placing his hand in the small of my back. "Don't look back." He guides me in the direction of the car, his hand firm but gentle at the same time. "Don't do anything to let them know we're aware."

  I can't see anyone. The street looks empty to me. But Kaito's definitely on edge.

  We enter the car and Kaito pulls away, glancing in the rearview mirror. We pass by a row of quiet looking narrow houses, turning out into the busy streets. Kaito's eyes flick back and forth. He's watching the road with intense focus.

  "Did we lose them?" I turn, catching sight of dense traffic through the back window.

  "Not likely." We come to a set of lights. "I'm going to draw them out."

  "When did you realise we were being followed?"

  "When I met you at the temple."

  "Since then?" I blink in shock. "Why didn't you say something?"

  "No point in acting tense and giving ourselves away, is there?" We move through the intersection, heading over a bridge that crosses the wide Sumida river. Up ahead, I spot the tall spire of the Tokyo Skytower.

  Kaito shoots me a dark look. "This is what happens when you're with me."

  "If you're in danger, I'd rather be with you," I snap, studying the traffic behind us. "Not back in LA wondering if you'll ever come home. Stop trying to shield me from all this, Kaito. This is you. This is your life. Either I'm all in, or I'm gone."

  A look of disbelief crosses his face, before it's quickly hidden. But he says nothing. I look back and notice a white sedan several cars behind. It keeps its distance but maintains the same pace as we pass dense city blocks.