Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Another Man’s Treasure
It was the slap that killed him. Gutted him like a fucking fish on a board.
Because it told Santino all he needed to know about the emotions coursing like poison beneath her skin.
The fact that she’d reacted with outward aggression, when it was so against her nature that she’d once taken a knife to her own body instead, screamed loud and clear how much Osamu’s and Hiroto’s actions had hurt her.
For a brief moment, Santino regretted having made that call and giving the gangster a platform to speak from.
He hated that she’d heard it. But that had been the most expedient way to learn what he needed, and like it or not, the punk was too invested in his own self-interest to make a stand against the Guerras. Which meant Santino believed his tale.
Reiko took a half-step back, her arm retracted and held defensively in front of her chest. “Why?” Her question was barely a whisper, but it landed all the same.
Like an anvil.
Osamu lowered the arm he’d raised to his face, his hand clenching into a shaking fist. He opened his mouth, spewing something in Japanese that Santino needed no translator to understand. There was only hate in that voice.
Santino moved forward, his chest burning.
Reiko’s arm lowered to curve around her middle, but she held her head steady. “Tell me why!”
Hiroto opened his mouth, the outrage in his eyes assuring he was prepared to tell her off, but he hadn’t been paying attention. All he managed to do choke out a half-formed syllable as Santino’s hand closed tightly around his throat.
There was a desk between Santino and Osamu, Santino and Reiko, but not between Santino and Hiroto. And Reiko had been absolutely right. Hiroto was Osamu’s pride and fucking joy. His weakness.
Santino squeezed until he could feel Hiroto’s Adam’s Apple straining against his fingers, the muscles in Hiroto’s throat desperately fighting for relief.
He didn’t have it in him to bother with the fake grin when Osamu’s head whipped around and their eyes clashed.
“Answer her question, Pops. She asks much nicer than I do.”
Osamu’s nostrils flared, his stare snapping rapidly between Hiroto and Santino.
So fucking predictable. Santino looked past him. “Back to me, beautiful.” Her show of backbone had been splendid, if not devastating, but leaving her in harm’s way was not an option.
Reiko, thankfully, didn’t seem inclined to linger in her father’s bubble. She moved almost before the command was past his lips and long before Osamu had spun to try and grab hold of her. When she noticed his intent, she picked up the pace.
Santino pulled her up to his side as soon as she was in reach, not caring that Hiroto still hung by the end of his opposite arm.
He laid his hand at her hip, then dragged it up her body until he was cupping her face, her head tilted back to better see his.
“You’re doing so good being strong, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Osamu sputtered and Hiroto slapped weakly at his arm.
Reiko offered a warm, soft smile that had no business in that room.
His damn dick perked up and there was nothing Santino could do but bend down and steal a quick, messy kiss. Which made the boner situation worse, but fuck, he’d deal.
“Wh-what do you think you’re doing? Let my son go! He’s turning blue!”
Santino straightened, calmly repositioning so that his arm was wrapped around her and Reiko was pressed against him.
With her head turned to the side as it was, she could see the scene before them just fine.
Meeting Osamu’s panicked stare, Santino said, “You can save him. You just have to answer her question.” He hardened his tone. “Tell her why.”
Osamu growled and leaned forward on his desk, his fingers curling into the wood so hard his nails gouged the surface. “Release. My. Son!”
Santino flexed his grip, giving Hiroto about three seconds of improved air before cutting it all the way off again. To the backdrop of the entitled prick’s desperate gasp and wheezing, Santino said, “I am not a patient man when I’m angry. And I don’t tolerate liars.”
Osamu deflated like a shredded balloon. “Okay.” He held up his hands in a pleading gesture.
“Please, let him breathe.” He swallowed hard, pulled at the collar of his tightly buttoned dress shirt, and kept talking.
“That—girl has always been a waste.” His lips curled as his ingrained distaste overpowered his immediate concerns.
The anger returned to his eyes as he narrowed his glare at Reiko.
“Never able to hold down a job more than a few years. Always bouncing between low-income apartments. And soon you wouldn’t even have been able to afford that much.
When a person gets that desperate, they get stupid, and the last thing I need is some stupid girl trying to take the money I’ve worked so hard for. ”
Reiko tensed and Santino felt her curl her fingers into the back of his shirt. She wasn’t unaffected by the cruel words, despite how pathetic they were.
The anger had full grip of Osamu and his voice rose higher, spittle flying from his mouth as he sealed his fate. “I was only choosing to do what you failed to finish seventeen years ago!”
She turned her head, just a little, just enough to break whatever eye-contact she’d been holding with her father in favor of burrowing into Santino’s chest. Her next breath came with a tremor.
Santino moved his hand, slipping his fingers beneath the fold of the fabric where the wrap dress met at her hip, until only one layer separated his skin from hers. He made sure his palm covered where her scar was, which tucked her tightly into his arm, and he let the truth show on his face.
Osamu paled at the sight of his rage as Hiroto dropped to the floor with a heavy thud and a loud, wet, rasping gasp.
A strange moment held in the air before Osamu bolted around the side of the desk and dropped to his knees beside his precious son. “Hiroto! Daijōbuka?”
Santino gave them their seconds, as an opportunity for his own, and loosened his grip enough to tip Reiko’s head up to meet his gaze. “Anything left to say to them, beautiful? Now’s the time.”
Her brow furrowed for a beat, something like sadness crossing her features, but then it was gone. When she spoke, she spoke loud enough to be heard, but kept her eyes on him. “I’m done with them. I want to be done with them.”
His heart ached and he dipped his chin, then pressed his lips to her forehead. “Need you to trust me now, beautiful,” he murmured into her skin.
He thought he heard her hum over the less delicate sounds the Matsunaga males were making a few feet away.
Santino eased back, winked at her in the hopes of one final reassurance, then lifted his gaze and let out a shrill whistle. The sound pierced the air like an alarm, sharp and loud, and it pleased him to see that it startled the cowards he was about to break. But there had to be an order to things.
The office door cracked open and Armando leaned in. “Boss?”
Santino glanced Armando’s way. “We’re gonna be a few more minutes. Let the boys know, Matsunaga’s office is about to be hollowed out.”
Armando’s jaw tightened and he dropped his chin in a short nod.
“Understood.” He backed out without waiting for further instruction.
He didn’t need it. He’d been with Santino long enough to recognize what Santino meant when he referred to hollowing out an entity.
So, Armando would know that he needed to make some quick calls—get the cleaners on alert, some more muscle in motion, and a few backgrounds run.
They’d be leaving Matsunaga’s office a little lighter of key personnel.
If that quivering fuck from the elevator had a brain, he’d take the offer he was about to get and disappear in the way that kept him breathing. Because Santino didn’t leave witnesses.
But that was for his men to handle. Santino had more pressing obligations.
He gave Reiko a gentle squeeze. “Need you to step back for me, beautiful. I’ve got it from here.”
Her eyes widened. “But, the people—”
“Santino Guerra,” Osamu interrupted, anger thickening his voice again, “I’ve had enough of all of this. I don’t care what you want with that roll of flesh, but get out of my office! And expect a visit from the police, because I’ll be pressing every charge you can think of!”
Santino turned to face the blustering piece of shit as Reiko obligingly moved toward the back wall.
The smile on his face sharpened and he cracked his neck from side to side.
“That’s cute,” he said, his tone mocking.
“You’ll call the police to report that we thwarted your sloppy as fuck assassination plot?
The one my man Freddie will have coerced your terrible choice of hitman into repeating on camera by hours’ end?
Freddie is very convincing, and that pickpocket you hired loves money. ”
Alfredo, who tended to stab people who called him by his proper name, was one of Santino’s capos.
And while Santino was less than certain who was still in line with him on the Guerra vs Segreti front, he was fairly confident that outwardly they were invested in keeping the family strong.
Otherwise, what would the point be of a hostile takeover?
So, for the job he’d needed, Freddie was qualified. Of that, Santino had no doubts.
Osamu sucked in a breath as Hiroto attempted to pull himself to his feet.
Santino closed the distance that had built between them in easy strides and landed a hard punch straight to Osamu’s gut.
Osamu doubled over, stumbling practically into his son before dropping to his knees. A bit of bile dribbled past his lips and caught on his chin.
Hiroto angled to the side, his voice raspy and feeble from the strangulation already showing on his neck. “Father!” He turned a frightened glare up at Santino, and what was probably meant as an admonition came out like a plea. “You can’t do this.”