Chapter Fourteen
Watching Quil squirm under Irowen’s scrutiny was, Apollo admitted, a guilty pleasure he didn’t know he’d been missing. Normally the bird reminded him more of a pirate’s swaggering parrot than Kaw’s go-to lieutenant, but if crows could flush, the corvid would be ten shades of crimson now.
Funnily enough—or not—he didn’t think Quil’s give-me-the-Xanax dance had anything to do with the luscious cleavage swaying over his head.
But how long would that be the case? The little snarker probably had spent past lives on some buccaneers’ shoulders, enough that he’d appreciate a beautiful rack when he saw one.
Especially when it was delivered on a platter of hot and heavy foreplay.
Fuck.
Quil better have brought some very vital intel about what was going on with Genny Steed.
Further, that would be the only juicy element about the report relay.
He vowed it so completely, his back teeth locked as he lunged a leg forward. Time to ensure her flak jacket got zipped back up; preferably all the way to her neck.
But his sharp little lizard whacked him away, mistaking his courtesy as intrusion. The green glass glare she sliced over her shoulder said as much. Inside another second, she cut the same look toward Quil.
“You did hear me, Lieutenant? Right?” she prompted with mocking sweetness. “Quil?”
He rocked his head up and down. Loud and clear, ma’am. Crystal as an acropolis bidet.
Not the metaphor the moment needed, but under the circumstances, Apollo allowed it. “All right, then,” he decreed. “Out with it. What have you learned?”
Before the bird could draw new breath for a reply, Irowen broke in as if telling him crows had feathers, “The recon team found the safe house, of course. Why else would he be here instead of helping Kaw to dump off Rizon?”
“Right,” Apollo muttered, because she was. Luckily, Quil looked too preoccupied with searching up the missing chunks of his mojo to notice his commanding god being force-fed a slice of humble pie.
“So, what’s the situation?” Irowen prompted.
“And just to be clear, the team put actual eyes on Genny, right? A positive ID, not just a silhouette or voice? I’m guessing you hit the target out near Kobe or Fukuoka, perhaps even somewhere near Manila, if Ito decided to pay some tokuryū for this one.
” She dropped her head with a contorted expression.
“Oh, damn. Why didn’t I think of those little shitheads sooner?
If she hasn’t even been in Japan this whole time . . . ”
Oh, she’s in Japan.
While Quil’s certainty was so prominent he practically uttered the words human style, the emphasis was more holy shit, Scooby, Mr. Wickles is really the Black Knight and not you’re going to jail forever, Catwoman.
Irowen jabbed her head back up, obviously recognizing the nuance, but had no further response beyond working her mouth against silent air.
The sight had Apollo’s back teeth whetting at each other again, this time as he resisted the craving to tuck her close and brush stern but gentle words into her ear.
Instead, he opted for stricter encouragement and a firmer frown. “Hey. Irowen. Listen to me. It’s not your fault that kisama made your sister his hostage. And now, we’re going to unhostage her. Right, Lieutenant Quil?”
He joined the corvid in a determined nod, but as Quil finished with a cocky little preen, he took advantage of the moment to slip a consoling hand around his little monster’s shoulder.
And damn it if his gorgeous little Gamera didn’t take full advantage of the fresh nearness, leaning into the crook of his arm with enough weight to represent the grateful sheen in her gaze.
They chuckled together as Quil started a strut to rival the Rolling Stones frontman, but only for a few steps before turning up his telepathic feedback again.
Loud and squeaky-window-clear on that extra-shiny support, Godship. But just a wee heads-up-seven-up. We’ll probably have to pop-pop-pop up the sunspot watts for this charming little side quest.
Clearly just as cognizant of the bird’s sudden kidding-not-kidding twist, Irowen pulled away to stand in her own space again. “I’m not a huge fan of ‘charming’ side quests, Quil.”
Kaw had the good sense to stop the brash rock star gait. But his slow pair of steps hardly conveyed new world leader backbone either.
Shit.
“Why don’t I start this time?” Irowen interjected from obviously tight teeth. “You’re sure she’s in Japan, yes?”
Affirmative, Quil replied.
“So, Kobe or Fukuoka?” She dashed a quick look up, slightly north of the shoulder she’d just leaned on. “You have fun portals for those parts of the planet too, yes?”
The fresh desperation in her greens had Apollo clenching every muscle in his arms. Why couldn’t he just haul her close again? “Of course,” he assured. “If not directly there, then close.”
Her lips trembled. “How close?”
She’s not in Kobe or Fukuoka.
Quil was shockingly still, waiting for Irowen to flip her attention back around. Only when the poor corvid was again caught in the radar-green force of her stare did he flinch once more.
She’s in Tokyo.
The declaration sent a sizable hitch through Irowen’s stature. Apollo succumbed to a harsh shake of his own head, only now realizing it wasn’t the answer he expected.
“Tokyo’s huge,” he qualified. “Must be an outlying prefecture, then. Saitama? Kanagawa? No way would Ito get as obvious as Kabuchikō or Roppongi. Even Ikebukero is so tourist-infested now that—”
She’s not in the center of the city.
He frowned. “Then wh—”
She’s in ōta.
Another tremor rushed through Irowen’s stance. “ōta?” She shook her head, though the movement was more like a trance-induced swirl on the air. “Quil? Are you sure?”
Before he replied, she paced back toward the living room, where she studied the long reflecting pool he’d installed back in the twenties, lined to the right with the custom enamel panels he’d personally commissioned from Erté.
Never had he thanked himself more for instructing the artist to depict stags and swans instead of the topless mermaids the Russian had first proposed.
With the fresh agitation claiming every inch of her spine, the last thing his little monster needed to peruse was ruby nipples and tiny triangle underwear.
Apollo followed her, just in case she needed a supportive shoulder again. Sure, asshole. And you buy that as fully as an investment proposal from Rizon, yeah?
He grunted, dismissing his inner dickhead, while crossing the room. He had something better to contribute to the situation, at least in this moment. Solid facts.
“Ito wouldn’t try to control so much as a conbini in ōta,” he stated. “And no way would he balls up enough to run anything more substantial. Not with the clear messaging that the Himonya jousoubu and their friends have been proclaiming across the region.”
Who, now? Quil inquired, soaring to a roost near the window. Since the perch gave the bird a better angle at Irowen’s profile than his, Apollo expanded his vigilance over that end of the room, including Quil in his watch.
“The Himonya family is also yakuza,” Irowen filled in.
“They’re part of the large, feared, and respected Inagawa-kai organization.
Except they’ve begun leading a notable charge against the yamibaito, a shady sector that many are calling the new face of organized crime in Japan.
The assholes recruit younger members right out in the open, via social media, and their tactics are a dangerous mix of the Johns.
” She added, in response to his perplexed frown, “Wick, McClane, and Wayne.”
Quil emitted a glottle chuckle. And they say the summers are the craziest thing about the country.
“The yamibaito strike without order or style or reason, uncaring if they take out civilians as collateral damage on their hits,” she went on. “There’s no connectible logic or honor to any of it. The business is wild and random and—”
As classy as a T-shirt at the opera. Along with the derisive line, Quil blinked his black marble eyes with hard, open disgust.
“That’s one way of saying it,” she remarked. “Though of course, the Himonya and their peers have come up with others.”
After rearing back by several inches, Quil rotated his head and eyeballed Apollo. Did you already know about those creepy kadoodles? And not tell Kaw or myself about them?
Apollo grunted. “This is super recent stuff, buddy. Only within the last fifteen or so years. Besides, I only help humans compose their laws, not enforce or break them.”
“There’s a god who does that?”
“You mean the one who lives a few clicks down the road in this lovely neighborhood?”
“Can we focus up about finding my sister in any neighborhood?” Irowen cut in, seemingly just as jolted as Quil about the reminder of this vicinity.
As if they hadn’t just helped to hand over Rizon for several centuries’ worth of hard labor in Hell’s salt mines.
“Though we do agree to zero in on some sectors of ōta, right?” She scooted a sharp look between the two of them. “Ideas? Anyone?”
With the same pointed intent, Apollo cleared his throat. “You sound damn sure about the girl’s twenty, Mr. Quil. So, did the recon team actually get eyes on her? If so, then where?”
Quil started to nod already. There was visual confirmation. Wasn’t long, mind you, but enough that the guys reasonably logicked the details back to Genny Steed.
“How?” Irowen challenged. “I mean, she wasn’t just wearing a T-shirt that read Hi. I’m Eugenia Steed; follow me on your favey socials, no?”
Of course not. Quil swerved on his perch, the corvid version of crossed arms and a side-eye. But her T-shirt did say ‘Everyone deserves the chance to fly’ and she gave out Pocky sticks to a clump of teenagers who noticed it.
“Oh,” she blurted. “Okay, well, shit. That does sound like her.”
Oh, that was before they all started singing together, and she danced into their tour guide hard enough to spill his tray of iced coffees.