Chapter Five
RIVER
Today, Aki’s appearance is the only thing tame about him. His hair is neatly combed back and styled, the tips fire red, but as the day wears on, I have no doubt those locks will grow wilder as he’ll run his fingers through them.
His long, trendy, water-green coat is draped over Soma’s forearm—who’s standing next to me in the covered hitting area at the golf driving range—leaving Aki in a light blue shirt with not even a wrinkle, tailored caramel pants, and polished shoes.
His devilish smile is aimed at the guy kneeling in the large open space near the targets thirty feet from us, wrists and ankles tied up, wearing only a pair of tighty-whities, and shivering with cold or terror. Probably both.
The range is closed to the public tonight and owned by one of the yakuza families under Kumicho, so we don’t need to be discreet.
The guy sports a split, red lip, bruised temples, a couple of missing teeth, and two black eyes courtesy of Masa—looks like he pummeled his face like dough. He said he’d find the file thief in three days, and he delivered half a day early.
Aki walks toward the blue golf bag and grabs one of the practice clubs. Those pants wrap around his ass like a second skin, reminding me how soft and round it felt against my thrusting cock. Those four smirking moles. How those cheeks rippled every time I drove my fingers in his hole.
Shit! Fucking hell, I can’t get hard now. But reality exceeded all my wildest fantasies. I’ve been having dirty memories of him and what happened two days ago. Is that why I held onto the sweater he was wearing and wrapped it around my cock when I jerked off?
I was so used to keeping my desire locked up, but now that I’ve experienced his soft tongue brushing mine, I don’t think I can hide it anymore. And his tight mouth around me, the wetness of his hole, his sweet scent on me, and the moans he lets out when drowning in ecstasy.
“Where did you find him?” Aki asks, pointing the club at the trembling man waiting hopelessly on the grass.
“He had another mistress and was hiding at her place. His scorned girlfriend talked after I used some of my extra charm,” Masa replies.
Soma doesn’t add anything. Aki nods, but I can see he’s impressed, even though he doesn’t trust Masa.
“The file?”
“Got that too.” Masa throws a pen drive in the air; I catch it easily.
“Nicely done.”
“Just followed the breadcrumbs, boss. Your man helped.” Masa shrugs, glancing at Soma.
“Can someone tell me why we are at a fucking golf club, though?” Aki looks at Soma, then Masa, then the two men standing behind them. Yuna and Karin are absent, still looking for the ski-masked men.
It’s a driving range, but nobody corrects him.
“Trevor, your assistant, told me to bring him here,” Masa hazards an explanation.
Aki tsks.
“You told him you wanted to try golf,” I remind him.
“When?” he asks.
“Last week.”
He hums, but I know he completely forgot about it. Aki is not known for being consistent.
He looks critically at the club in his hand and swings it once in the air.
Seemingly satisfied with it, he holds it near one of the white balls lined up in front of him and then gives it another swing.
A loud thud resounds in the empty range.
It’s not easy to follow the ball at this late hour; the artificial lights are a little blinding.
It flies too high on the left and rolls on the grass, missing the target.
“Fuck!” The failed shot spurs him on, and an unappeasable Aki hits the six remaining balls, one after the other, without pausing.
He gets two hits, each followed by a loud cry and a pained moan.
“Whooo! Who said that golf is a boring sport?” Aki rolls the club in his hand while descending the three steps to the open space, heading toward the file thief.
I signal Masa, Soma, and one of the men to follow, while the other stays back. I stop a few feet from the guy lying on the grass—one of the golf balls got him right in the family jewels, making him fall on his side on the ground.
Aki rolls the guy onto his back with the tip of the golf club. “Stabbing someone in the back is harder than you thought, isn’t it, rat?” he hisses. “The muscles in the back are thick; you need to use all your strength to penetrate deep and make it fatal.”
“I-I didn’t—” the guy moans, with tears running down his bruised cheeks.
“But you were about to.” Aki’s singsong voice is filled with menacing promise.
“I needed…the-the money. I have people to take care of. Please.”
I hear Masa snort. “You mean the four women…and counting. Dude! You could’ve kept your dick in your pants.”
“I’m s-sorry. Please don’t punch me a-again.”
Aki’s maniacal laugh stops the guy’s pleading cry. “Oh, I won’t. A rat is not worth using my hands, a golf…stick on the other hand…”
He swings the club down on the guy’s chest over and over—who can only take it since his hands and feet are still bound.
“You used your foot too,” I tell Aki when he’s done venting on the rat.
“Fuck off.” He smirks at me. Damn, why does that turn me on?
“Have mercy…” The guy is panting, he’s got blood all over his skin and nasty bruises are starting to cover his belly, arms, and thighs.
“Do you know who I am, rat?”
He nods once, looking frightened. Why did he steal the file if he knew who the owner of the construction company was? That was a fucking idiotic move. Actions have consequences. I should tell myself the same thing as my mind goes back to the sensation of Aki’s hot mouth swallowing my dick. Fuck!
“What you might not know is that I dispatch whoever tries to cross me,” Aki states with an impassive, cold voice.
A helpless sob comes out of the guy’s swollen lips.
“The fates of your women, though, depend on you.” He pauses to let the words sink in. “Tell me who you wanted to sell the file to.”
“I-I don’t…really—”
“River, my sword.” He unceremoniously throws the club over his shoulder and extends his hand toward me. As soon as I unsheathe his katana, the rat whimpers.
“Did you know that the tradition of sword making represents a pinnacle of Japanese craftsmanship? The sword is much more than a weapon; it is a profound symbol of authority, honor, and divinity, deeply connected to the spirit of the fighter. This one—” he lifts the long blade in the air, it sparkles under white lights.
“—it was my father’s, and it was given to me at adulthood to instill a sense of responsibility as a protector of my family and lineage and as a constant reminder of my high social position.
Hold his arms up and his feet down.” Aki orders.
The extra man crouches down and pulls the rat’s hands over his head while Masa grabs his ankles.
His body keeps shivering uncontrollably as the sharp tip of the blade starts a bloody trail from his neck to the edge of his boxer briefs. The wound is not deep; Aki is just warming up.
“Stop crying, it is unsightly. I barely touched you.” Aki sniffs with annoyance at the guy’s persistent sobs.
“He has a parrot’s squawk for a crying voice,” Masa feels the need to say.
“I’d like to know how your whimpers would sound,” Soma deadpans.
My one-track mind puts a sexual spin on his words, and I have visions of Aki begging me to make him come again.
The blade suddenly comes down, slicing off my dirty memories together with the guy’s nipple. A scream rips out of him.
“If you don’t tell me the name of the buyer, after finishing with you, I’ll turn your girlfriend into sashimi before feeding her to your wife’s cats.” Aki’s threats are always real, based on past experiences.
The guy remains silent, eyes closed, rushed breaths.
“All right, then I’ll take two eyes for an eye. River hold his head still—”
“A man…working for Shanghai Group,” he screams. “One of the companies owned by the Triad. “He didn’t tell me his name. He-he approached me, promising five hundred thousand dollars for that file.”
“Really?” Aki doesn’t seem to believe him. Slash! The guy’s right ear is next to go. I don’t muffle his cry this time and let it reach the sky.
“How did he contact you?” I ask, and have to kick his side before he gives me an answer.
“A man came to me during my lunch break. He gave me a hundred thousand dollars in-in advance and told me what to do.”
“Describe him.” Aki spears his left leg with the blade. He’s never been the patient type.
“Ahhhh! Asian, young. He had a big mole on his cheek.”
“A hairy one? On the right cheek?”
The guy nods frantically as I meet Aki’s eyes. Ling Wang.
Aki yanks the katana out of the guy’s leg and hands it to me before giving the order to Soma and Masa. “Don’t leave even a finger behind. No pieces floating down the Hudson River.”
Masa answers the guy’s uncontrollable sobs with a heel to his temple to silence him. We are the mafia, we don’t forgive people who try to fuck with us.
Soma helps Aki put on his green coat while I pour some water on the blade before sheathing it again.
“Time to go,” I let out the words through gritted teeth.
Aki’s mindset turns from commanding and vicious to impish. “Right. I need to meet the next clown.”
He means the marriage candidate. I grind my teeth so much, I think I feel one cracking as I head toward the golf range exit.
Fifteen minutes, and Aki is still in the Flatiron Room Murray Hill, a restaurant in the East Side known for live music and fine dining. He ordered me to stay a few feet back this time, near one of the dark columns where I can see him sitting on the brown leather sofa, but not hear what he’s saying.
A man in his fifties is sitting next to him—his nearness makes my fist clench.
His name is Kobayashi Ito—I guess same-sex marriage is fine with the kumicho if she can gain something—the owner of a chain of luxurious restaurants and clubs all over the US, which are a front for prostitution and money laundering.
He’s having some problems with the law lately, that’s why he’s interested in making a deal with us to get extra protection.