LIAM
Fuck.
One of the black-suited men starts to walk towards us, flanked by five other men, and I begin to step forward, but Levin holds out a hand. “Let me deal with this,” he says through clenched teeth, and as much as I don’t want to obey, he did caution me about—well, if not this exact scenario, something like this happening.
“Theoyabun,Mr. Nomura Nakamura, is honored to have such esteemed guests arrive in his territory,” the man in front says, smiling to show pearly-white teeth. “If you’ll come with us, please.”
“I thought we were in Tokyo,” Max mutters, and Levin shoots him a look out of the corner of his eye that could freeze steel solid.
The man smiles. “Just so. Mr. Nakamura’s territory. He has sent us to escort you to his compound. This way, please.”
Levin nods. “My companions and I are here on behalf of thepakhanof the Eastern Seaboard in the United States, Viktor Andreyev, and—”
“We know quite well who you are. Levin Volkov, brigadier to Viktor Andreyev. Liam McGregor, head of the Boston Irish Kings. Maximilian Agosti—priest?” The man smirks. “Well, it’s good to keep the faith, especially when you walk into such danger.”
“Then you know that there will be consequences if we are harmed.”
The man smirks. “Mr. Nakamura is above such things. But there’s no need to worry. Theoyabundoes not seek your blood, not yet, anyway. The night is young.”
Every inch of Levin’s body is tense, but he steps forward regardless, which tells me what I’d hoped wasn’t true—we don’t have any option but to follow them. If there was one—negotiation, fighting it out, just plain refusing to go and taking our own car into Tokyo, wherever it might be—Levin would have opted for it.
Going with the men is bad enough, but when they bring out the black sacks to put over our heads, even I can’t help but balk.
“Do you treat everyone who visits Tokyo with this hospitality, or are we just special?” I ask tightly, eyeing the man holding it with distaste. “I prefer to see where I’m going.”
“And theoyabunwill find a special use for your eyeballs, if you would prefer that I take your sight permanently rather than utilizing this temporary solution.”
Well shit.“Fine,” I manage through gritted teeth. “But theoyabunshould know that the head of the Irish Kings isn’t pleased with his hospitality.”
“For fuck’s sake, Liam,” Levin hisses from behind me in the car that we’re unceremoniously shoved into. “Shut the fuck up.”
He had told me to keep the Irish levity to a minimum. But I also hadn’t been expecting to be blindfolded and carted off to the Yakuza headquarters before I’d even had a chance to sniff the Tokyo air properly.
The ride is a bit longer than I would have hoped, especially considering that I know the hangar where we landed isn’t far from the city. I do my best to keep my mounting fears at bay, but not being able to see and being in a place where I don’t speak the language, in a car with the goons of a notorious gang that I’ve never had dealings with before, doesn’t exactly lend itself to feelings of calm.
I have to trust that Levin hasn’t gotten us into something he can’t get us out of. And beyond that, I have to believe that whatever happens, it’s worth it.
As long as it gets me closer to rescuing Ana, it is.I mean that, with everything in me. I’ll endure a terrifying car ride, an interrogation, whatever I have to.
I just have to survive it, with enough pieces intact to get to her. And based on what Levin said on the flight, that in and of itself might be a feat.
Not to mention the fact that from the brief time I’d spent with Adrian, I’d gotten the distinct impression that he might have sent us here just because he’d get a kick out of knowing we were stupid enough to go blindly stumbling into Nakamura’s snake pit.
Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now but go forward. We’re here, so chin up. Prove that you’re better than your father gave you credit for.
He’dcertainly never faced down the Yakuza.
The car finally rolls to a stop, and cool air smacks me in the face even through the dense cloth of the bag over my head as the door opens. The bag is unceremoniously yanked off, and I see in the dim light of the torches in the courtyard that we’re in front of a two-story, L-shaped Japanese-style house with the traditional shingled roof and paneled doors. I barely get a chance to look at it before I’m dragged out of the car by one shoulder and shoved forward into the hands of two of the armed men, with Max and then Levin being given the same treatment. Max looks pale as death, but Levin looks somewhat nonplussed, as if being manhandled by armed Yakuza is just another Tuesday for him.
Hell, maybe it was, back in his syndicate days. I’m starting to have a new appreciation for the man.
“The Nakamura clan welcomes you,” the tall man who greeted us says, those same pearly white teeth glimmering in the dark as he smiles insincerely. “Follow me.”
It’s not exactly as if we have a choice, but I wisely opt to keep my mouth shut this time. As the three of us are hustled forwards through the courtyard, past the red-paneled front door, and down a dimly-lit hallway to another set of red-paneled doors, where we’re abruptly pushed inside into a huge room lit with recessed lighting in the ceiling and a fireplace roaring at one end, the centerpiece of it a velvet lounge divan with cushions scattered all around.
“Shit,” Levin mutters under his breath, and my skin prickles as I look at the man sitting on the divan. “That’s not Nomura.”
“Is that bad?” I ask through my teeth.