No Ordinary Love (26 page)

“That's pretty harsh.”

“Sorry, I mean lovingly taking away your breath as you orgasm.”

“Maybe. This option is always up to you.”

“And you're aware that I could mess up with the choking and you could die?”

“Of course.”

“And that I could get killed for being found with your body, not to mention the fact that it would ruin my mental state forever.”

“These are all the negatives. I'm hopeful that it will go the other way or that I won't even desire it with you. I don't right now. I haven't this week.”

“Wow.” I checked his photography again—corpses in water. “You're the hopeful one out of the two of us right now. That worries me.”

“We're going too fast. Tonight, you should rest. You can come out on the balcony with me and—”

“No, thank you. Which one is my room?”

Frowning, he pointed to it. “Your clothes should be inside your room in bags. I received a text message from one of my men that your friend handed over some extra boxes of clothes and accessories.”

Of course Zo did. Sure, he's probably worried that I'm going to be staying with Kenji, but he's also stressed that I might be looking like crap as I do it.

There would be no use contacting Zo and alerting him of my present situation. He'd simply freak out. I'd contacted him before when I was in tough situations far away from him, and he'd done everything but help, including going into a state of depression, lying in a fetal position, and not calling the authorities. As usual, I had to get myself out of this one on my own. No one could help. It would just get someone hurt.

I didn't think Kenji would hurt me, but anyone else? Only God knew.

So I sat on the edge of my bed. I'd taken a shower and put on a white t-shirt with the image of Al Pacino as Scarface on the front. I wore tiny black shorts and Daffy Duck slippers. It wasn't my most thug outfit, but it reminded me of home, and that's what I needed. It would be the only way to not go mad.

Stay calm. Remember, the best way to get through something is to stay in the present. What's the goal for tonight? Sleep or write?

I yawned, but couldn't ignore the itching in my fingertips to type.

Write it is.

In the end, my writing always saved the day somehow. My first book got my mother out of debt and me away from my horrible school. Articles and essays gave me the freedom to live how I liked. My career got me in doors that only power could open and out of legal situations that I couldn't even count.

For hours I wrote about what I'd seen tonight. The terror of those services on the menu, the sick individuals that would need it. I kept the location, names, and specific details of the place a secret. I didn't want backlash from anyone involved with that business. If one of them read it, they would think I'd ventured into a similar place, but not the exact one. I'd even left off some of the most horrific services, just in case.

All night, I wrote with only a lamp next to my computer.

Kenji remained up, too.

Is my typing bothering him?

Every now and then footsteps wandered past my half open door. Twice he paused right in front of it and just stood there. It was haunting, those minutes, where all I could see was a glimpse of his shadow in the doorway. My body stiffened in fear and lust—two emotions that warred whenever I was with him. Desire and terror. Part of me hoped that he would leave and give me peace. The other, very wrong part of me craved his touch and to see the tattoo that covered his body.

And then he would walk away, and I would type, with the area between my thighs moistening and my heart banging in my chest.

My sentences shifted into a stronger focus on him. I noted his reactions to the horror, his pain. I typed the details of his expressions, described the way he tried to joke when tension filled the space, and even, to my horror, discussed that fragrance of his, the one I could still smell on my fingertips as I punched in more words.

The topic transformed from Tokyo's sex industry to Kenji, the man, himself. That mental book of mine had dripped onto my computer screen, and instead of pushing the whole story away, I continued to type it all down. My fingers traveled fast over the keyboard. Everything poured out—his father's emotional and sexual abuse, his inability to escape his yakuza-affiliated future, and all the anger that lay within his flesh.

This book was about him the whole time. The man behind the underworld.

Sometime in the morning I passed out at the computer. I remembered that second when I couldn't lift a finger, just said forget it, and lay my head down on the keyboard. It beeped over and over several times until it held a continued buzz that didn't stop until strong hands lifted my head and I fell into darkness.

I woke up later that day in bed, covers wrapped around my body.

Kenji tucked me in. That would be so sweet if he wasn't such a spoiled
…
monster.

I wouldn't allow myself too much sympathy for him. He'd forced his way into my life and didn't even know me. That wasn't a red flag. It was a nuclear explosion of flags raining down on unsuspecting citizens.

You'll get out of this.

I spent an hour going through my things and making sure I had cash, my identification, and passport. If I could, I would say
fuck the book
and seize an opportunity to get away. Escape was always possible. Dad taught me that long ago, whether through your mind or physically. A release from pain and rough circumstances always existed. One just had to be ready to discover it and do what was necessary.

I could be worrying myself more than necessary. He said that we would be done in two weeks. He hasn’t had any other long-term relationships so I doubt he would lie. Well, he could be lying for now. Oh fuck. Stop going over this and stay in the present. And just be ready.

I walked through the empty condo. Sunlight blanketed the whole space due to the large windows serving as most of the walls. The soft black rugs smoothed against my feet as I rummaged about, analyzing everything this man had chosen to place in his home.

Haiku. Haiku. Everywhere different types of haiku. He has a great respect for words. Damn. That's pretty cool. Shut up, Nyomi. Don't give him points for that.

Photos of his family hung in a sitting room near the kitchen. They were all black and white—him as a child next to an older boy as they built a sand castle on the beach. Others showed him, his brother, and his parents in front of a huge cherry blossom tree. Grins spread over their faces.

Must be some professional family photo.

I went into the kitchen and opened up drawers, taking three sharp steak knives, running back to my bedroom, and placing them throughout the room—between the mattress, taped under the writing desk, and one inside my pocketbook.

And then, after I finished, I realized my computer was gone.

What the hell? Kenji, what are you up to now?
 

Chapter 27

KENJI

“Are you serious?” Nobu spat the words out. Small drops of saliva stuck to his graying beard. The little man didn't have height or girth, but his voice could drown out most.

Customers in the restaurant lowered their heads and looked away. I pierced him with my gaze. In our many prior dealings, I'd made him aware that I didn't enjoy attention when we talked. He cleared his throat and drank some water.

“Yes, I'm serious.” I folded my napkin and laid it on the edge of the table. “I don't want a lot of casualties, especially the women that work there. Figure out a way to get everyone out first—fake fire alarm, anything.”

He leaned my way and kept his voice low. “A bomb would shut the whole area down.”

I raised one finger. “Not the whole district.”

“True, but that's not where the money is coming from.”

“I know where money flows more than anybody.”

“Has your father approved this?”

“When they test your will, remind them of your power.”
Dad had said that to me more times than I could count.
“Blood and death are the best symbols to promote proper discipline.”

“Nobu, how old is your youngest now?” I gestured for the waiter to get my check. “Five years old or six?”

Nobu rubbed the beard covering his chin. “Seven.”

“That's a good age I've heard.”

“It is.” He adjusted his expression until a neutral mask sat upon his face.

“And your other three children. How are they?” I pulled out my money and left a reasonable amount on the table. The whole time I didn't remove my gaze from him.

He sat back in his chair. “All of my children are doing fine.”

“That's good. A man is blessed to have a good wife and kids. That's not something I'm sure I will ever have. You should make sure that your family is always safe.” I fixed my mouth into a wide beam. My mother hated this smile. She'd told me more than a few times that it made her shiver. I found that motivating and practiced the expression more. “I'm glad that your children are fine.”

“Thank you, sir.” He slowly nodded.

I tapped my finger on the table. “Tonight, the southern tip will be nothing but damaged gray buildings. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any other questions?”

“And … ” Nobu dabbed at the beads of sweat sprouting around his forehead. “What will we tell your father?”

Will they ever see me as an authority as long as he lies in that bed attached to his machines? How can I ever make a change when they will all worry more about his reprimands than mine?

“My father?”

Nobu nodded. “Yes.”

“You let me worry about my family, and I'll let you worry about yours.” I rose and left more yen on the table.

“This is going to upset a lot of people,” Nobu called after me.

Too bad. It's time to take out the garbage.

I left without another word, hoping that these movements led me on the right path. I'd read a quote somewhere that in every moment there was a new road to walk down, a new voyage to experience.

Where will disobeying my father lead me?

Destroying the southern tip would be dangerous to my way of life. I'd just taken Tora over there last night, showed her how evil my life could get when it came to business, and practically asked her for advice. She could barely stomach the menu. There'd been no reasoning to take her throughout the place when just being in the lounge sliced at her humanity.

That's enough rationale to get rid of the place.

I was blind to what I hoped to gain from Tora. Many ideas came to mind. I'd even told her a few—choking me could reveal my destiny, her just being near could heal me, and that beauty was a perfect distraction when all else failed. Regardless of the path, she would be in my life … longer than two weeks, if I could help it. And I wouldn't have things like business in the southern tip as any sort of physical reasoning that Tora could point to as a reason for why she couldn't be with me.

I have two weeks to get her mind off leaving. Once that's done, I'll figure out the rest.

Tonight, the southern tip would be rubble—shattered rocks and smoky memories of all the atrocities that had occurred within that foundation. The client list represented some of the most powerful men and women in the world. They'd visit Tokyo on secret trips and indulge themselves in some of the evilest things. The destruction would signal to them all that my family no longer backed these practices in my city. I knew the power in my movements, which is why I remained quiet more than I should. However, the message of my distaste for these severe fetishes would ricochet throughout the country. People who resisteda would be out of work, for no one wanted to challenge me when they didn't need to.

And what about the ones that have been waiting for a reason to battle me? What path lay ahead when more people will be trying to kill me from behind?

“Let's see what advice Tora has for me now,” I muttered under my breath.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed. I didn't need to check it. It was father. He'd called yesterday, probably about the fact that I’d missed our daily meeting. I'd never missed any before. Once Tora entered my life, I'd been showing up late or cutting them short.

Tonight, I can't see him either.

Her face appeared in my head. A grin slipped onto my face as I walked through the city for the first time in years, just me and the wind. My men surrounded me with curious faces. The Dragon didn't just stroll around the area, smiling like an idiot and chuckling to himself.

What is she doing to me?

I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Eito.

Me: Are you still watching her?

Eito: Yes. She's still in your condo.

Me: Keep her safe. I'm cleaning house. Soon it will be time to bring in new furniture. I don't want anybody taking it out on her.

Chapter 28

NYOMI

My phone signaled I had a text message.

Kenji: Change of plans, Tora. We're not going to the Castle in the Sky or doing a private chef at my place. Tonight, I show you my city.

Me: What do you mean?

Kenji: Your gown and shoes are being delivered to your room.

Before I could type another message, a knock came at my door, and I jumped in my chair.

“Talk about speedy service.” I lay my pen down on my notebook and got up. Although Kenji had taken my computer, it didn't mean I couldn't write. I'd found a pen and paper in his bedroom next to all of his journals where he'd written his own haikus, beautiful ones.

I paused in front of the door. Some of those lines had made me shiver when I read them. In this moment, a shudder ran through me. There was one particular journal that had my attention. It had pages full of poetic lines about a tiger and a dragon. I could tell from the crisp white sheets and the unbattered crimson covering that he hadn't owned that particular journal for long. There were only six haikus inside for now. More blank pages rested behind them. He'd kept this journal by his bed, so maybe he wrote in it every night.