Page 5 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
I turn to the last one standing just as my savior punches him in the nose. He goes down without a fight, either too slow to react or too distracted by his bloodlust for me to notice I’ve gained an ally.
Heaving, I prop myself against the dumpster and study the man who helped me. He’s a foreigner. More so than me, even if I’m half-Thai and half-Japanese. He’s what you’d call a propergaijin. American, if I had to guess, but he could be mixed. He’s panting as hard as I am while he shakes his hand like he got burned. His blue eyes look a little confused, like he’s not sure exactly what he’s done or why. His dirty blond hair is a mess, but in that way which makes me want to run my fingers through it to feel its texture. Or pull on it during sex.
The sudden thought gives me a pause. I blame my adrenaline-fueled body for it.
“You should probably go back inside before the rest get here,” I say in English, fishing for my cigarettes.
He frowns at me, then glances at the dark alley and crosses his arms. The movement stretches his navy shirt, making it cling to him in a way that gives me a pretty goodidea about how diligent he must be about keeping fit. “Therest?”
His voice is a nice, deep tenor. And I also can’t find my lighter. Did I drop it? “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
He opens his mouth to say something—or argue with me, if the scowl he flashes me is any indication—but before a single word can leave his full lips, a dozen or more Nebisu hunks appear around the corner.
“Oh fuck,” I yelp, shoving off the dumpster and bolting for the door.
The man is right on my heels. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Trouble,” I hiss, charging down the red-tinted corridor with its two restrooms along the left wall.
I emerge into a packed club, the music blasting so loud my ears feel like they’ll explode. Zeroing in on the door, I march through the swaying bodies. I lose the man, but I don’t have time to search for him and thank him when this is the only chance I’ll get to escape my pursuers. I’ll look him up later.
Commotion stirs at the back of the club, but the only thing I catch when I look over my shoulder is that blond head near a bunch of angry-looking men trying to make their way past the dancing and inebriated young people.
I chuckle and slip out, boarding the first taxi I see with the Herald’s logo.
“Mr. Akiyama,” the driver greets, clearly recognizing me.
“You know the Shinsei Garden?” I clip, anxious to get moving. “Drive there. And don’t inform the reception I’m coming.”
“Kwanchai Akiyama!”
I wince at my father’s booming voice. It reverberates through me, putting me on alert. I knew I’d have to face the Akiyama Group’s leader, but I’d hoped it would be in his private office and not in front of our men as soon as I stepped off the car. There goes my attempt to sneak in and save myself the incoming embarrassment.
I turn toward him and square my shoulders, feeling like a soldier about to get an earful from his drill sergeant. Aran, my closest friend and the Chief of Security for the Akiyama Group trails behind my father, the two of them approaching me with authority.
“You went out without your security detail,” my father accuses, not one to beat around the bush. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and forces me to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky the Nebisu have such incompetent men in their ranks.”
I hate this. Being scolded like some unruly child in front of the men who I’ll be leading one day.
“I had things under control,” I protest, gritting teeth.
It’s mostly true. It was supposed to be a quick stop, but if anything came out of my scuffle with the Nebisu, it’s the fact that it confirmed we have a mole among our ranks. I’ve been suspecting it for a while, but my father wouldn’t believe it. Honor and loyalty and all that stuff old geezers like to flaunt around.
He flares his nostrils. “You do not go anywhere without your detail. Am I clear?”
“We need to talk—”
“Am I clear?”
I clench my hands into fists. I really want to punch him right now, but I keep myself composed and my arms at my sides. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I will not go out without a security detail.”
I aim a death glare Aran’s way, because he’s supposed to be helping me convince my father there are more important matters than my slight slip-up. Especially since I had things under control… Mostly. No one needs to know about the blond foreigner who I’ll be tracking down as soon as my father is off my case.
Aran ignores my silent plea, clearly siding with my old man. I glare at him.He’s so gonna pay for this.
