Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
L akeshia
Neighborhood children laugh as they ride their bikes and play in their front yards. Mower engines from landscape specialists add to the cacophony of sounds in this upper middle-class neighborhood.
I stand before a four-story home, assured by my intel my quarry is inside. I stroll up the walkway, sparing the manicured lawn and flowerbeds a cursory glance. I’m not here to admire the homeowner’s horticultural taste.
Before I arrive at the door, it swings open, and the woman I’ve been fantasizing about visiting bodily harm on steps outside with the same niece from the store.
“May I help you?” The young woman says.
“You can’t but she can.” I point to Aya barely leashing my rage.
My attempt must have failed because the younger woman whose name I remember now is Hikaru, stands as a shield before her aunt. She looks around, gaging how close help is if she calls out.
“I’m Shinji’s wife.”
Both women’s eyes pop open but for different reasons.
“Oh, then you must be why he was shopping for baby gear.” Hikaru smiles. “How far along are you?”
“I’m still in the first trimester of a risky pregnancy.” I turn to Aya. “So I won’t ask you to forgive me when I say your aunt is a piece of shit to wish death upon my child. They’re already facing obstacles no baby should. I might die trying to bring their life into this world, and you dared to fix your mouth to curse my baby? You’re worse than shit.”
“You get what you get when you lie with murderers.”
“Yeah, and what do shitty mothers like you get? One son dead and another thrown away.”
Aya pales, whether in righteous indignation or hurt at being called out for her mess, I can’t tell.
“You never deserved Shinji and nothing he did merited your abhorrent treatment of a grieving brother. All that hate you had for him, you should have directed it at the real culprits. But that’s fine. He has people in his life who’ll get him the justice you never fought for.”
“You have no right?—”
“I have every right to stand up for the love of my life since you couldn’t. I swear if making you disappear would solve his heartache, all traces of you would be gone already. But he still has fond memories of you, and I won’t tarnish them any more than you have. At least, while those memories don’t pain him. My generosity only goes so far.”
Aya snatches her arm from Hikaru and stomps over to jab my chest. “Fumio was funny and weaker than Shinji. He didn’t have the same sense of caution. Shinji knew this, but he thought only of himself when he allowed Fumio to walk into a dangerous party.” Angry tears stream down Aya’s face.
They don’t move me.
“Then you did a shitty job in preparing him. Shinji’s job was to be a student and have fun with his brother, not babysit a man the same age as him.” I rub my stomach, directing her eyes to my pregnancy. “You know… I’ve been afraid of motherhood my entire life, but I have to thank you now. With such an abysmal example of what not to be, even at my worst, I’ll be better than you. And my child will be so much better off without you in their life. I hope you die a bitter woman realizing you could have experienced the joy of being a grandmother but you let your hatefulness stand in the way.”
The shock and pain overcoming Aya’s face doesn’t fully appease my need to avenge Shinji’s years of isolation and loneliness as he struggled to reinvent himself and to stand on his own, but it helps. I walk away leaving them standing in the middle of their walkway.
Riu opens my car door for me.
We’re going on a road trip while Shinji takes over Takeshi’s guarding duties.
I’ve begun to appreciate Katsuo, and now understand why Kori gives him a pass. His silent, threatening demeanor seems almost harmless whenever his family is in need. And he extends his generosity to all his Kimura brotherhood, not just his immediate family. The danger he represents is real; the man helped my husbands rescue me and left a lot of dead bodies on his way to aid us. Even so, Takeshi asked for resources, and in less than a week he got the names, addresses, and life stories of the four men who killed Fumio Nakashima.
I arrive at a private airstrip. Takeshi is already waiting on me. He greets me with a smile, then ushers me out of the car and toward the private jet.
“Did you accomplish what you wanted?” His lips firm, quietly communicating his disapproval of my confrontation with Shinji’s biological family.
Just like our argument this morning, I shrug off his displeasure. “I suppose. At least I knocked her off that pedestal she put herself on and reduced it to rubble. She won’t have the nerve to fix her face against our husband in the future.”
Takeshi shakes his head but remains otherwise silent on the topic.
We strap our seatbelts on for the three-hour flight to Silicon Valley and I rest my head against Takeshi’s shoulder. Six men pass by to take their seats. They’re large and rugged and their presence will help us have a peaceful conversation to prepare for the much deeper one we’ll have with Shinji.
Takeshi’s cologne soothes me, calming the residual tension in my body from my confrontation with Aya. I relax into his warmth and within five minutes, I fall asleep.
Too soon, Takeshi shakes me awake. Dry air hits me the moment we disembark. After a short drive, we arrive at a private equity firm. Men and women mill in the lobby, pacing and reviewing their pitches for the firm’s investment. We walk past everyone, including the receptionist who chases us, discreetly admonishing us for not having an appointment.
We head straight to the CEO’s office and walk in without knocking. The man takes one look at us and hangs up the phone.
“Security is on their way.” He stands and rounds his desk.
Takeshi says, “If you like walking, you’ll cancel security because I guarantee I’ll get to you before they get to me. And when your people arrive, you’ll see how much better trained my men are. Now do you want to test me, or do you want to discuss why I’m here?”
The man backs away and makes a call.
“Wise decision.” Takeshi places his hand on my spine and ushers me toward the seating area. “Now that we’ve deescalated the situation, we’re missing a few people for this conversation.” Takeshi hands a list to his man who places it in front of the CEO. “They should also be in the office today. Call them in. We’ll wait.”
Takeshi sits beside me. Before long three men file in, laughing and patting each other on the back for convincing a small business to file for bankruptcy.
“Hey, Clay, what’s so urgent you called us in?” A sun-kissed blond man said.
Clay, the CEO, nods toward us. “They requested a meeting with us.”
Four pairs of eyes turn on us. They look like the stereotypical all-American college athletes who have never experienced hardship in their lives. Instead, they orchestrate all the evils and exploitation of unsuspecting and trusting individuals. From their success as adults, they’ve never met a consequence they deserved in their lives.
Takeshi opens his mouth, but I pat him on the knee.
Today, I’ll be the consequences they owe. With interest.
“Can I do this part? I’m feeling very spicy today.”
My husband grants me an indulgent smile and settles deeper into the chair. “Of course, chiisai senshi no megami.”
I turn to the men who spare me one glance then dismiss me.
“In about five seconds, you’re going to receive a call from your wives. I suggest you answer your phones.”
As soon as I finish speaking, their cells ring. The men share a glance before pulling their devices from their pockets. Their eyes widen when they glance at their screens, then disband in different corners.
I count down in my head the seconds it takes for them to return clutching their phones.
“What do you want?” Clay says as the spokesperson of his group. He clenches his smooth-shaven jaw.
The other men have varying degrees of angry frowns while holding their silence.
I answer in a super saccharine voice. “Take a trip with us, and we’ll release your families once we reach our destination. And as long as you don’t make a scene, your wife and kids will be fine.”
“How can you expect us to trust you?” The blonde steps forward in an aggressive motion.
Our guards stand, their collective presence more intimidating than the man trying to tower over me.
“You’ll have to step out on faith. You know about faith don’t you?” Takeshi asks. “You are solid members of your religious community. Trust in our good intentions.”
“We don’t have a choice.” The third man, a stocky redhead who’s allowed his friends to speak for him until now, pats the blonde on his shoulder.
“You must be the voice of reason for your group.” Takeshi smiles, but even I think his exposed teeth look more predatory than reassuring. “Keep up the good work. Now if you don’t mind…”
As my husband trails off, I stand and head toward the door with Takeshi following close behind me.
Without sparing the men a glance, I lead the trail of men with Takeshi by my side. I can practically hear them gnashing their teeth as they pretend everything is normal.
The return trip to the airport and flight to Serenidad fly by. The men exchange nervous glances as we disembark.
“When will we receive confirmation our families are safe?” Clay, again acting as the group’s spokesperson, demands.
He and his friends peek at the guards flanking them.
“When we get to our destination, as my wife told you.” Takeshi takes his phone and texts Shinji to meet us at our pre-planned location.
Shinji responds with an affirmative but doesn’t inquire why.
As the landscape changes and becomes less affluent, I try to hide my giddiness. My knee bounces and Takeshi places a calming hand on me. I shrug with an anticipatory grin, my mind filled with images of the gift we’re about to present to our husband.
Clay asks, “Can you at least tell us what’s the purpose of this trip?”
“Accountability,” I say as we pull up to a familiar building.
Wary lines bracket their eyes and their mouth flatten with dissatisfaction.
True to our word, Takeshi sends a text and the men’s wives call informing them the big, scary Asian men have left.
Emboldened, the fourth man who has been silent during our entire interaction steps forward. “Now listen?—”
“Slow your roll, weak sauce. Your family is safe for now. Your next moves will determine if they continue to be. It’s laughable the ease with which our men got to them. Now, if you don’t mind.” Takeshi holds out his hand toward the entrance.
The men grit their teeth, holding back their anger and leashing the violent response they’ve probably dreamed of unleashing on us during the entire trip.
Inside the building, a guard says, “He’s waiting inside.”
Takeshi and I usher the four men into the room where I received much-needed closure, and now I look forward to our husband getting his.
Shinji faces the night sky, his back toward us, and his hands in his pockets. He turns upon our entry, a question in his gaze when the four men enter with us.
“Who are they?” he asks.
“Your fellow alumni.” I hold my hands out to him as I approach. When I’m inches apart, I take his hands and draw him in for a kiss. I cut the embrace short, too excited for his present.
The men glance at each other, as confused as Shinji, so Takeshi steps forward. “A week and all of Katsuo’s resources found the people responsible for Fumio’s death.”
“Woah!” Clay retreats. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here. I don’t know a Fumio.”
“Me neither,” all four men say.
“Keishi-kun?”
Takeshi winks at our husband. “Trust me.”
Shinji nods and leans against the wall, his body relaxed while waiting for Takeshi to reveal his information.
Meanwhile, Takeshi turns toward the four men. “You’re right. You don’t know Fumio because you never cared to learn the name of the college student you murdered. Just like you don’t know the name of the other men you’ve killed on the anniversary of Fumio’s death. Weird bonding ritual you share.”
Our hostages share a guilty glance and try to back away. “You have no proof.”
“Is it a habit for you to underestimate people?” I ask. “You each share a cloud photo album that goes back to your college days.”
Shinji pushes away from the wall. “How did you find them so quickly?”
Takeshi shakes his head. “I didn’t find them quickly enough.”
I pull Shinji between us and rub soothing circles on his back. “So, who goes first?”
The hostages spin around and race to the door, bumping and pushing each other to save themselves rather than working together to escape. Not like their efforts will succeed. Our guards haul them back and hurl them to the floor.
Takeshi ignores the scuffle and hands Shinji a familiar cleaver. “We’ll follow your lead.”
Our husband inhales deeply, his eyes closed. When he’s ready, he accepts the blade with a grateful smile.