The Undertow (The Kuroda Yakuza Series Book 2) Read online

  "I'm not filming with that fucking rapist! And now you want to throw in a sex scene? You have to be kidding me." The voice of one of Japan's most famous women sounds different in real life as it filters through the closed door. Gone are the smooth, refined tones of her on-screen persona. This woman is angry, brittle. "Tear up my contract! I'm done."

  Old guy bangs on the door again. "Stop this nonsense, Madoka-san. We're already over deadline by two weeks. Please, at least come out so we can talk about it."

  Silence.

  More banging. "Please, Madoka-san."

  "Hit that door one more time and you won't fucking hear from me again."

  An assistant comes rushing through with a set of keys. "I got the master key," she whispers, holding them out to the old guy. Just as he reaches out for them, I barge through.

  "Give them to me,"I snap. Heads turn and people stare at us as if they've seen a ghost. “I’ll handle this. All of you, go find something productive to do. She doesn't need the attention, but you're giving her exactly what she wants."

  "Who the hell are you?" Manager guy stares at me with a wild, outraged expression. "I've never seen you before."

  "For fuck's sake." I don't have time for this. Before she can react, I pluck the keys out of the assistant's hand. She squeals in surprise, and the security guards start to move on us, but cold-eyes from downstairs surprises me and steps into the fray, putting up her hands.

  "The Boss sent him," she warns. "Let it be."

  As they waste their time arguing, I motion to Ryuji to stay close to me. Taking advantage of the raised voices, I slide the key in the lock and before anyone can figure out whats going on, I've slipped into Madoka's room, locking the door behind me.

  “Oy!” Ryuji’s startled yelp is added to the mix. But I prefer to leave him on the other side of the door for now.

  I come face to face with the queen herself.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” My half-sister is sitting in a swivel chair, in front of a mirror. As I approach, she spins around.

  I pick up something from the floor; a discarded silk robe. “Put some clothes on, idiot.” She’s wearing only panties and a bra. Her long, black hair is wild and tousled, her mascara smudged.

  On the dresser before her is a bottle of prescription medication. It sits alongside a bag of white powder.

  Madoka grabs the robe and casts it aside. “Why, brother?” She gets up and staggers over to me, gesturing down at her slim body. “Does all of this offend you?”

  I keep my expression carefully neutral, but I can’t help the wave of disgust that rolls through me. Madoka’s high on something. Her pupils are dilated, and her face is flushed. I glance at the drugs on her dresser. Cocaine or speed, probably.

  I have to get her out of here before she embarrasses herself.

  “Madoka,” I say slowly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “I’m going to get you out of here, right now. You can leave behind whatever’s making you so unhappy.”

  I pick up a long, tan trenchcoat that’s draped over the back of a chair. “Put this on. Let’s go.”

  Madoka throws back her head and laughs, showing no signs of shyness at the state of her undress. “You want me to go with you? Do you know how much damage it would do to my reputation if it got out that I was involved with you people? Do you realise the scandal it would cause?”

  I throw the trenchcoat across her body, letting it cover her bare skin. Madoka giggles and spins around in her chair. “Did they send you because they somehow thought I’d listen to you? Because we’re related?” She rolls her eyes. “Please. We share the same mother, but that’s about it. And I’ve turned out no better than her. Just a glorified whore.”

  I lose patience, picking up a glass of ice water from the dresser. I throw the contents into Madoka’s face.

  “What the fuck?” She screams, her mouth agape. The water seeps into her long, black hair and causes her mascara to run. She starts to tremble.

  “Pull yourself together,” I growl. I’ve had enough of her drama queen bullshit. “You do not speak badly of her. Not now, not ever.” I move closer, catching her gaze, forcing her to look at me. “You’re forgetting something, sister. These ‘people’ you don’t want to be associated with? They own you. So you will make an effort to look halfway decent, and you will come with me, right now. Because my boss, who just happens to be your boss, is requesting it. And if you make things any more difficult for me right now, I will take you out of here by force. And that won’t look good for the cameras, will it?”

  Madoka reaches for her pills, but I’m faster.

  “Enough with the overdose threats,” I snap. “What are you, a fucking teenager?” I grab the bottle and stash it in my jacket pocket.

  “I need those,” she pleads. “Give them back.” Her eyes are wild and desperate.

  I haven’t seen my sister in years, but something about the way she's acting right now stirs a strange, unfamiliar feeling in me.

  It’s an emotion close to sadness. I can’t really put my finger on it. She’s one of the biggest actresses in Japan, but right now, she looks lost and vulnerable.

  I don’t know how to deal with this shit. Maybe Madoka’s just as broken as I am. I exhale in frustration, running a hand over my newly shorn hair.

  “Madoka.” I hold out my hand. “Whatever happened, I don’t care. But I can take you away from this, right now.”

  She looks at me, with wide, glazed-over eyes, which are as big as moons in her pale, flawless face. “Bullshit. Where would you take me?”

  “Mother’s house,” I reply. “You can stay there for as long as you want. Nobody will bother you, no-one will find you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Madoka shudders, and starts to pull the trench-coat around her. She stands, belting the garment around her tiny figure. “My manager, the studio, the production team; they’re all expecting me to be here.”

  “I don’t give a shit about any of that.”

  She stares at me as if she’s looking at a strange species of animal she’s never seen before. “Are you really Kaito?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were always such an asshole to me in the past.”

  ‘That’s because you were a stuck-up little bitch.”

  Madoka rolls her eyes and pulls out a pair of black high heels. “I still am.” She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her damp, tousled hair, trying to smooth it. I hand her my sunglasses.

  “Put these on. Don’t let them see you like this.”

  She gives me a sidelong, dubious glance, before taking the shades with slender, manicured fingers. She wipes the water from her face and puts them on.

  For a quick departure, she looks presentable.

  I swipe the packet of white powder from her dresser. No sense in leaving anything behind that might incriminate her. “I won’t tolerate this shit in my house.”

  Madoka laughs. “Hypocrite. Your people are the ones distributing it.”

  I say nothing in response. I can’t argue with her on that. While Ishida openly disapproved of the drug trade, he always turned a blind eye to the local bosses who chose to deal in amphetamines, or shabu.

  Gangsters have to make a living, somehow.

  I hesitate before I open the door. Outside, I can hear raised voices, including Ryuji. I look at Madoka, who’s managed to pull herself together, looking like a serene ice-queen behind my dark glasses. “Ready?”

  She nods, and I take the lead, impatient to get away from here.

  The day has been far too long and full of bullshit. I’ve killed one man and put Ryuji’s life in danger. I’ve been dragged into a fight I’d rather not be involved in and because of her association with me, Adele is in danger.

  On top of all that, I’m supposed to find Hajime Ishida’s murderer and take revenge on behalf of his family and the Kuroda-kai.

  That means someone has to die.

  I’m slipping back into my old ways, an
d my true self is starting to show through the cracks. The only thing that keeps me from going back to that madness is the thought that I have to keep sane for one person.

  All I want to do right now is get back to my woman. My stubborn, naive, impulsive Adele, who finds the light in even the worst situation.

  If there was a way out of all this, I might just take it.

  But the Kuroda family has its hooks in me. Even if I could cut ties with the yakuza, I would still owe Hajime Ishida a blood debt. And they would find me, eventually.

  They always do.

  Adele

  There's a black car parked across the road. It's been there for hours, ever since Kaito left the house. The windows are tinted so dark I can't see who's inside. But it's got me feeling uneasy.

  What if it's related to the guy who was following me?

  Suddenly, the idea of Kaito showing me where he's hidden his gun doesn't seem so ridiculous.

  And for the first time in so long, I feel alone, and vulnerable.

  Deciding I need someone to talk to, I call home. Mom picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey mom, it’s me.”

  “Adele, honey.” There’s warmth in her voice. Since dad came out of rehab for his alcohol problem, she’s changed. Their whole dynamic has changed. For the first time in longer than I can remember, she seems relaxed and free. “Where are you now? How’s the vacation?”

  “Actually mom, I’m in Tokyo.”

  “Tokyo? I thought you were in Thailand.”

  “Yeah, slight change of plans. It was an impromptu thing. It’s Kaito’s hometown, and I thought I should see the place.”

  Mom goes quiet for a while. “Is everything okay?” she asks, in a low voice. “You know, you haven’t brought this boyfriend of yours to meet us yet.”

  If mom really knew what was going on, and who Kaito was, she’d have a fit. “Everything’s fine,” I reassure her, trying to sound cheerful. “We’re having a great time. Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon, and I’ll bring Kaito home to meet you and dad.”

  “Sure, honey. That sounds nice.” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice. Because she knows we’ve been together for months, and I haven’t yet brought Kaito home. “You know, if you need any-”

  “I’m fine, mom. We’re fine.” As I stare out the window, I see Kaito’s smashed up Benz pull up behind the suspicious parked car. “I have to go. Give my love to Mina and dad.”

  Kaito steps out of the car and walks over to the driver of the other car, who slides his window down a fraction. But I still can’t see the driver’s face. Kaito says something, nods and then the other vehicle pulls away.

  A feeling of unease ripples through me. The people in that black car weren’t the enemy. They were Kaito’s people, sent to watch me.

  Funny, he didn’t mention anything to me.

  I stare in fascination as two other people get out of the car. To my surprise, one of them is the guy from earlier; the one who was tailing us. He looks across the street with a wary expression. His face is bruised and bloody. But he makes no move to run.

  What the hell?

  The second person is a woman. She’s wearing a long, tan trenchcoat, belted at the waist, and a pair of dark glasses. They look like Kaito’s shades.

  Did he lend them to her?

  Who the hell is she?

  She’s beautiful, with delicate, porcelain features and sleek, inky black hair that falls past her shoulders.

  Who the fuck is she?

  I don’t like the feeling I’m getting while looking at her. It’s an ugly feeling, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  I know exactly what it is.

  Jealousy. It’s come on so strong, out of nowhere, like a savage storm.

  Sometimes, I surprise myself.

  I take a deep breath and tell myself not to jump to hasty conclusions. She could be anyone. But seeing Kaito in the presence of another woman, and an extremely beautiful one at that, makes me uncomfortable.

  As the three of them cross the narrow street, Kaito in the lead, I look down at myself and realise the cotton yukata I’m dressed in is rumpled. I’ve awkwardly rolled the sleeves up and the belt Kaito tied so expertly for me has come loose.

  Spring cleaning doesn’t go hand in hand with looking glamorous.

  My hair is a mess, swept up in a loose ponytail, with stray strands escaping here and there.

  Normally, I wouldn’t be so self-conscious, but compared to little miss perfect down there, I feel unkempt.

  But the only other clothes I have are my skinny jeans and t-shirt, and that’s not much better than what I’m wearing.

  As I make my way downstairs, I hear the front door open.

  I hear raised voices; it’s mainly the woman and Kaito speaking. He sounds irritated. But I can’t understand a word, because they’re speaking Japanese.

  So he doesn’t sound happy that she’s around. Why do I find that so satisfying?

  I decide it’s time to interrupt. I smooth down the front of the yukata and try my best to straighten the knot that Kaito tied. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it.

  The arguing escalates, the woman’s voice becoming shrill and high-pitched. Okay, definitely not friends, then. Kaito replies in harsh, clipped tones.

  The back and forth goes on and on as I peer around the corner. The kid with the beat up face, who only hours ago was locked in the trunk of Kaito’s car, is staring at them, speechless. His gaze is drawn to the woman; he’s regarding her with an expression close to awe.

  Kaito’s changed his clothes. He’s wearing a deep blue navy suit, instead of funeral black. He looks exasperated, an expression I rarely see on him.

  Who the hell is this woman, who can make Kaito so easily frustrated?

  An ex-lover?

  I step into the hall, and Kaito turns, sensing my presence. His dark gaze burns into me, having lost none of its intensity.

  “Adele.” He cuts the argument short, ignoring the woman. For a moment, his attention is fixed only on me. My feet seem to move of their own volition as I walk over to his side.

  The woman and the kid stare at me as if I’m some kind of exotic creature.

  I reach Kaito’s side and he puts an arm around my waist, pulling me into him. It’s an obvious display of possessivness, and I get the feeling he’s sending a pointed message.

  “Sorry about the drama,” he murmurs. “Something unexpected came up.”

  I lean against him, enjoying his warmth and his complex, masculine scent. But at the same time, I’m feeling self-conscious and confused. Kaito says something in Japanese to the woman. I hear my name mentioned. Then, he repeats it in English. “Madoka, this is Adele. Adele, this is my sister, Madoka. She’ll be staying here for a while.”

  Whoa. Kaito never mentioned a sister to me. He rarely ever talks about his family. I try my best to mask my surprise. “Madoka-san, konnichi-wa.” I try on my best, halting Japanese.

  The feeling of jealousy that rose in me; so quickly, so savagely, it goes out like an extinguished flame. I should have known better.

  The intensity of the emotion surprised me. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.

  Kaito’s sister removes the sunglasses, handing them back to him. There was a reason he loaned them to her. Her eyes are bloodshot, and there are dark circles underneath. She looks exhausted, but at the same time, wired. Her pupils are big, and her skin is flushed.

  She doesn’t say anything, but she offers me a faint smile and a slight bow.

  I study her in more detail. From far away, I didn’t see it, but from close up, the resemblance is striking. She’s obviously Kaito’s sister.

  But where his features are angular and hard, hers are delicate, almost doll-like, even when her expression is weary.

  They’re both beautiful, but in very different ways.

  I realise Madoka and the kid are still staring at me. “The kid’s name is Ryuji,” Kaito adds. “We�
��ve come to an agreement. He’s going to do exactly as I say, because he has no choice now.” He says the last bit in an ominous way, as if it’s a threat.

  “Hi Ryuji,” I smile. “You know, you shouldn’t have tailed this one.” I nod towards Kaito. Ryuji stares back at me with a blank face. He obviously hasn’t understood a word I’ve said.

  “Hello,” he mutters eventually, awkwardly, before averting his eyes. Kaito says something guttural sounding to him, and he bows nervously and disappears.

  So he’s gone from suspicious guy tailing us, to loyal apprentice.

  What the hell is going on here?

  Kaito’s arm is snug around my waist. He says something to Madoka, who rolls her eyes. She follows Ryuji, leaving us alone.

  “What was that all about?” I ask him when she’s gone, looking up into his dark eyes. Kaito takes a deep breath. His features are etched with tension. It’s subtle, but I know him well enough by now to realise he’s like a tightly wound coil.

  “Unexpected baggage,” he replies. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ve had enough drama for one day. I need to forget about it now. I need you.” His voice becomes urgent, insistent.

  I let him lead me up the stairs, drawn into his strange mood, which seems to be a mix of anger and frustration and yearning. His broad shoulders are set in a hard line, but his footsteps, as always, are silent. I pad behind him in bare feet, as he leads me into a spartanly decorated room. It’s one of the rooms I’ve swept and aired out. The floor is made up of woven reed mats, and in the centre is a low futon. It’s minimalistic but comfortable, understated but elegant. The afternoon light, now fading, filters through a paper-screened window, tinged with a hint of pink.

  As he turns to face me, I ambush him. “You never told me you had a sister.” I lay my hand on his chest, tugging at the lapel of his jacket, pulling him closer to me. “You’ve never said anything about her. From the way you were arguing, I thought she was an ex-lover of yours or something.”

  Kaito says nothing for a while, then shrugs. “We were never close. I didn’t grow up with her. She’s my sister by blood only.” His expression turns fierce. “And you’re the first; the only one. I’ve never brought another woman here, to my house. There’s no-one else.”