Sweet Seduction Sayonara (13 page)

Clearly I’m not threatened enough.

“Who is your friend?” he demands.

For a moment I think Momoko will say, “No one.” The kind of thing that slips off your tongue when you’re frantically trying to draw attention away from someone. But Momo has more decorum than that.

She lifts her chin and smiles benignly, and then introduces us.

“Tadashi Ishikawa of Kyoto. Finn Drake of Anscombe, Drake and Kline.”

I find it interesting that Tadashi has no business associations here, and is still referred to as coming from Japan. His English is good, clipped, a little British in fact. He hasn’t been raised in New Zealand, then. He’s an import, and a new one too.

I wonder why he came here.

“A lawyer?” Tadashi says. Giving me a disparaging look. “Do you require legal assistance,
konyakusha
?”

Momoko frowns at him. Perhaps at the term of endearment. I can only assume it’s a term of endearment, because Tadashi flashes a smirk at her when she reacts, then flicks his gaze immediately to me to see if I’m watching.

I’m ashamed to say I am. I feel like I’m in the presence of a viper. I can’t not look at this man for fear he might strike at me.

“He is a friend, Tadashi-san,” Momoko says.

“A friend,” Tadashi repeats and there’s something sinister in the way he says it. “Tell me, friend,” he directs to me. “Are you aware this woman is engaged to be married?”

How do I answer that? Forced to be married, don’t you mean? Only against her will? Not yet? A number of replies flash through my head, all of them telling. I don’t want this man to know too much. Not yet.

Not when I don’t know enough about him.

“Congratulations,” I say and then return my attention to the orchid. Momoko smiles a private smile just for me.

Tadashi continues to watch me, then turns those sharp eyes back on his fiancée.

“Dinner. Tonight,” he clips. “Wear something red.”

Like the red silk dress she was wearing when I first met her? My eyes narrow at the man. Had that been where Momoko had been coming from? A dinner date with Tadashi?

“Silk if you have it,” he says, turning to leave. “If you don’t, I’ll bring something. You can model it for me before we leave.”

I think Momoko’s just going to let him go. My fists are clenched. My jaw aches, I’m gritting my teeth so hard.

But then she says, “I have plans tonight, Tadashi-san.”

“Cancel them,” he snaps, rounding on her again.

This man is an arsehole. It’s bad enough that her life is sold off to whomever her father deems necessary, but he has to choose a dickhead like this?

“Gen will be so disappointed if you don’t show,” I say in a soft voice. It’s not a voice I use often. Only when faced with a particularly nasty soon-to-be-ex-spouse across a mediation table. I protect those who come to me for help. I may not throw punches or wave around guns, but I do know how to win an argument.

“Who is Gen?” Tadashi asks.

“A friend of Koki’s,” I say.

“You know Koki?” he demands.

“I know everyone.” And OK, that’s a bit of a stretch, but let him think I’ve got contacts. I do have ASI at my back.

Kind of.

“Regardless,” Tadashi says, turning back to Momo, “I wish to have dinner with my
konyakusha
. You will send your apologies.”

Momoko wavers. I see it in her eyes. I see it in the rigid way she stands there, glaring daggers at her soon-to-be-husband.

“No can do,” I say cheerfully. “Momoko is the guest of honour. Everything has been planned. You’re welcome to attend, of course. Who wouldn’t want the groom to be there?” I say with a chuckle. “But between you and me,” I add, stepping closer, lowering my voice, making it look like I don’t want Momo to hear, “it’s meant to be a surprise. An impromptu bachelorette party. The whole gang’s going to be there. Nick and Eva, Jason and Katie, Ben and Abi. You know,” I say, slapping him on the back of his shoulder, “ASI. That’s Anscombe Securities and Investigations,” I explain, in case he doesn’t get it. “Koki insisted,” I finish up and smile.

He narrows his eyes at me. I’m not sure, but I think I see my death in his dark irises. Or I’m just overly sensitive and want this to be done with already.

I hold my breath, then realise that’s a fucking ridiculous thing to do, so fish inside my pocket and pull out my cigarettes instead. Maybe that’s a tell too, because Tadashi smiles. I’m not sure I ever want to be on the receiving end of one of his smiles ever again after this.

“Very well,
konyakusha,”
he says, turning to catch Momoko’s shudder. His smile broadens. “There will be many nights when I can have you to myself in the future.” He leans forward to deliver his last remark. I want to throttle him. My hand rests on the outline of the taser. I can see myself doing it; pulling it out and pressing it to the back of his neck. I stare so hard at the spot imagining the carnage that I almost miss it. His parting words to my woman. “And I intend to have you,” he whispers loudly. Loud enough for me to hear. “Every which way I can.”

Motherfucking cocksucking bastard.

I take a step. He spins around and faces me.

“Mr Drake,” he says. “A pleasure.” It wasn’t. We’re both sneering at each other.

I watch him walk past and think that’s it. It’s over. My eyes catch Momo’s. I’m pretty certain she needs me to catch her in some other way. I move, getting closer, when I should have just stood still and waited for the creep to leave.

Tadashi stops at the door to the florist, the sun has set, the street illuminated by lamplights. He’s haloed in the artificial glow when he turns to stare directly at me.

“Be careful where you tread, Finn Drake,” he warns. “You might leave footprints.”

And then he’s gone and Momoko is wrapping her arms around me, crushing me to her as she trembles, and all I can think is he knows. He knows about the proverb.

Or he was the one who left it.

“
H
ey
, Dad,” Daisy says as she enters the bullpen. She’s carrying a brown paper bag, grease darkens the lower portion of it. I lick my lips in anticipation.

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?”

“Mum wanted to come in and say hello before we head across the bridge. She said you’re working a case and won’t be home until late.”

“Mmm,” I say, gladly accepting the paper bag full of goodness. “Harvey and I are working on something tricky, she’s right.”

I fish out a donut hole and shove it my mouth before I say too much. This case is big. Everyone’s working it. Even HEAT Investigation has been called in, much to Lara’s amusement.

Daisy props herself up on my desk. For eleven years old, she’s looking so grown up. Her blonde curls are still unruly, but she’s got her mother’s serene demeanour and carries herself like a runway model. Even dresses like one, much to my wallet’s bemusement.

“Where is she?” I ask, looking toward the door to CIB eagerly.

“We bumped into Lara outside and Lara’s all over Poppy.”

“Well, can you blame her? Poppy’s gorgeous, much like her older sister.”

“Dad,” she says, but blushes.

“How’s school, Princess?” I ask, smearing donut sugar all over my fingers. I lick them clean, thinking inappropriate thoughts of how I licked them clean of something equally as delicious early this morning.

“It’s good. Caitlin and I are doing candles for our science project.”

“How does one do candles?” I say, as Marie, Lara and Poppy finally walk into the room. My eyes lock onto my wife’s. She smiles. For a few seconds, I have trouble listening to Daisy.

“Did you hear me?” she demands sassily, as only a pre-teen can. “We’re timing them to see which colour burns the fastest.”

“Which colour do you think will win?” I ask, as Poppy comes trotting over on stubby little legs, hands outstretched and grasping, angling to be cuddled.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I murmur, lifting her up and snuggling my face into the crook of her neck.

“White,” Daisy says. “‘Cause it’s not got any added colour.”

“Good thought,” I say, as Lara and Marie make it to my desk.

Lara throws herself into Harvey’s chair opposite me, and promptly puts her feet up on the table.

“Got any holes left for me?” she asks. I chuck her the bag, she snatches it out of the air with one hand, and offers Daisy a wink.

“Hey, babe,” Marie murmurs and leans down for a kiss.

My hand slips behind her nape before I can stop myself and I deepen the kiss until Daisy says, “Gee, get a frickin’ room.”

“Daisy!” both Marie and I exclaim pulling apart. “Language,” Marie adds, taking a seat and settling in.

“Are you too busy to talk to us?” she asks.

“Never too busy for you, Tiger,” I say.

She smiles again, a small blush pinking her cheeks. I had her purring pretty damn good this morning. My Tiger likes being woken up with her man between her legs.

And I like feasting before I have to hit the road and face what the day might bring.

Her blush deepens at whatever she sees in my eyes. I try to remain PG rated.

Marie and Lara start talking about schools up in Whanaparaoa, but all I can do is watch my wife. She’s animated. Bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She’s full of life and love and everything that makes it easier to breathe. I can’t help reminiscing about this morning. About the way she arched her back, let out soft mewls of delight, and came all over my face and fingers.

I lick a finger now, pretending I’ve still got sugar coating them. The taste that bursts on my tongue isn’t sucrose but honey. Marie’s honey. Or at least, my recollection of it.

I want nothing more than to take our kids, head out to the car, and drive across that bridge to home. But when Hart walks into the bullpen, a scowl marring his features, I know work has to come first this time.

Auckland doesn’t get many serial killers, so when one crosses our desk, we make it a priority.

Inspector Hart doesn’t stop to say hello, but he does nod his head in greeting, and purposely flicks his chin toward his office. I sigh, nod back, and then hand Poppy over to Daisy.

“Daddy’s gotta work,” I whisper, kissing our youngest on the forehead and then doing the same to Daisy. I’ll keep kissing that kid until she tells me otherwise. So far, Daisy’s still all about the hugs and kisses.

I stare down at my women. My three beautiful, perfect, stunning women. Lara snorts, says something about time for another one, and then salutes my girls and heads toward Hart’s office.

“Is everything all right?” Marie asks.

I reach up and cup her cheek, stare into her eyes and say, “Perfect. Everything is perfect, Tiger.”

Marie smirks. “Maybe Lara’s right,” she says.

“Right?”

“It
is
time for another one.”

My mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Marie stills. I think she might pale slightly. “This is not how I wanted to tell you,” she whispers, sounding mortified.

And I get it, but Hart yells to hurry up through his still open doorway, and Marie offers a small smile and turns to go.

Oh, hell no!

“Marie!” I say firmly. The kids still, watching from several feet away. “Come here, babe,” I demand.

I know Hart is looking on impatiently from his office, maybe Harvey and Lara and the other guys are as well, I don’t know. But I reach out when Marie gets close enough, wrap my hand around the nape of her neck, and kiss her soundly.

A few catcalls and dirty words go flying, but I kiss my wife soundly. Telling her through my lips and teeth and tongue how much I love her. How much I love our life. Our kids. Those we have and those we might yet still have.

It’s unexpected, I won’t lie. But it’s perfect. Because it’s with Marie. Because it means Daisy gets to be a big sister again. And Poppy gets to be a big sister for the first time. And three is better than two, because, fuck it! I’ll take any I can get with this woman.

A miracle. That’s what she is. My miracle. She came into my life and made it better. She filled a gap I hadn’t known was there. She makes me whole. She makes me rich with love and laughter.

“Perfect,” I whisper against her lips. “And if it’s a girl, I like Rose.”

“Rose,” she says and smiles. It’s shockingly beautiful. And for a second, I simply can’t breathe.

And then I’m kissing her again and Hart is swearing bloody murder and the guys are laughing their arses off and I. Don’t. Care.

I hold out an arm for Daisy and her sister to come over, and then wrap my girls up in a bear hug, savouring everything.

“I love you,” I say to them all.

“Dad!” Daisy complains, but she doesn’t pull free from my loving.

For however long they let me, I’m going to hug and kiss my daughters every single day.

No one in this family will ever doubt my love. I may not be there every moment of every day, my job takes me places that are dark and forbidding and demand long hours. But when they think of me, they’ll think of hugs and kisses, love and laughter.

And when I think of them, I’ll be somewhere safe.

I
t’s late
in the morning on Friday when I make it to the police station. I feel like a cork bobbing in water, being buffeted from one place to the next. Even here, inside the Criminal Investigations Bureau, I get jostled and bumped, spun around and then completely overlooked.

Something’s got them riled.

I’ve never been here before. My type of legal representation rarely finds itself in the heart of the Central Police Station. Most of my battles are carried out over a desk, inside a contract, or sometimes through mediation. But occasionally, I’ve had to help out those who’ve gotten a little carried away. Divorce is so final. And so emotional. Tempers can flare. Patience can be in short supply.

But never have I found myself in here. In CIB itself, while they’re in the throws of gearing up for a massive investigation.

I wonder idly just what has got them so excited. Something big is about to go down in Auckland City and I need to let Dominic and Drew know. Hell, maybe I should let Nick Anscombe know. Because they’re putting on stab vests and checking their weapons and about to head out to do God knows what.

I almost get up and leave, but I was told to sit here and “Don’t move an inch.” So, I wait and I watch, and more and more I wonder if the boot in my car will be “investigated” and someone will say my firearms license is a joke and lock me in a cell and throw away the key.

I snort. Some lawyer I am.

“What’s so funny, my man?” Ryan Pierce asks as he finally approaches the desk.

“You guys are busy,” I reply without thinking.

“And that’s funny?”

“No,” I say. “No, it’s not.”

Pierce just stares at me.

“You wanted to ask me something?” he says eventually.

I straighten myself up and try to be the educated, well adjusted man that I am. I think I might be failing miserably, because Pierce sighs, pulls out a chair, and sits down.

“What’s up, Finn?” he asks more reasonably.

“I don’t want to hold you up,” I start.

“You’ve never stepped foot in here before,” Pierce interrupts, “so I have to think there’s a decent reason. You’re not a sensationalist, either. So whatever it is is probably serious. Let’s cut the crap and get right to it, yeah? What do you need?”

I watch as the chaos continues to unfold around us, like rippling water over boulders in a stream. We’re stationary in the middle of the current, while the detritus of an overflowing river passes us by. I can’t help feeling I’m out of my depth. But Pierce’s words are genuine. The look he gives me concerned. In the middle of all of this mayhem, he’s taking the time to slow things down and hear what I’ve come here to ask.

He’s a good man. I hope I’m not wasting his time.

“What do you know about the 14K Triads?” I say, cutting to the chase just like he asked.

He was already still, but now he’s a statue. And I stare at the chaos around us again and begin to wonder.

“What do
you
know?” he says. Standard cop procedure.

I’ve known Ryan Pierce for years, but only ever in a social situation. This change in demeanour is alarming. He would be frightening in an interview room.

But I’m made of sterner stuff than that. And my life right now has not got room for cowardice.

“I helped Momoko Tanaka out last Friday.” Shit, it’s only been a week. How has my life gotten so out of hand in such a short amount of time? “Some Triads tried to abduct her on High Street.”

“Outside Sweet Seduction?” Pierce demands.

“Yeah. We got rid of them.” No way I’m telling a cop, even if Pierce is a friendly cop, that I knocked them out and Koki drove the van away from the scene. “Since then they’ve been causing problems.”

“Problems?” Pierce asks, as a guy walks up to a desk opposite and says, “You ready, Pierce?”

He nods his head, holds up a finger, and the guy walks away. A whole conversation was said in that exchange, but I’m glad I’ve not got another witness.

“Problems?” Pierce repeats.

“They broke into my house. Messed up my office. Shat on my bed. And scratched a Chinese proverb into my desk blotter.”

“
Shat
on your bed?” he says.

“Yeah, I get that all the time,” I reply casually.

“You don’t seem too upset about this,” Pierce remarks.

“Oh, I’m upset. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

I shake my head. “The Traids are Chinese, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And only Chinese?”

“Yeah.”

“No other nationalities amongst them?”

“Well,” Pierce says, leaning back in his chair and scratching at his goatee. “There can be, I suppose.”

“Know anything about Japanese involvement in the Triads?”

He sits forward again and pegs me with a hard stare.

“You mean Yakuza and Triad kind of involvement?”

I hadn’t thought of the Yakuza. Tadashi is Japanese, but that doesn’t mean he’s a member of the Yakuza. Even if he looks like a well payed drug king.

“I’m not sure,” I admit slowly.

“Well, I can tell you that Triads would not normally work with the Yakuza and vice versa. They tend to keep things in house. Very proprietary. And as far as Yakuza in New Zealand go: They aren’t even here. But Triads,” he says and then waves a hand around the still bustling room.

They’re after the Triads? That’s what this chaos is all about?

Things start to take on a shade of holy shit. The police are planning a raid on the Triads and the Triads are hassling Momoko. What the hell does it all mean?

“Tell me something,” Pierce says quietly, leaning forward so I can hear the words. “Do you suspect Japanese involvement in the Triads or is this all hypothetical?”

“Tadashi Ishikawa,” I say.

“Don’t know him.”

“Momoko Tanaka’s…” I hesitate to say fiancée. But that’s what he is. At least until I can stop this farce of a wedding. “The man her father has arranged for her to marry,” I say instead.

Pierce doesn’t correct me. And for that I’m thankful.

“I suspect he’s tied up with the Triads somehow,” I finish by saying.

“OK,” Pierce says. “Talk me through it. First, why do you think it’s the Triads who tried to take Momoko and how do you know they broke into your home?”

“Triad tattoos.” He nods his head. “The Chinese proverb on my desk.”

“What proverb?”

“‘If you walk on snow, you cannot hide your footprints.’”

He arches his brow. “Interesting.”

“You know what it means?”

“No idea. But there’s a reason why it was left there.” He rubs the back of his neck and then asks, “And because it’s Chinese, you think it’s the Triads?”

“Who else? I haven’t pissed any Chinese people off, other than helping Momo out on Friday.”

“Momo?” he repeats. I just stare back at him. His smile is knowing. “OK, we’ll go with them being Chinese and most probably the Triads. What’s this Tadashi character got to do with it?”

“I met him yesterday. His parting words to me were to ‘watch where I tread or I might leave footprints.’”

Pierce sighs. “It’s thin, Finn. Come on, you’re a lawyer. You know a judge won’t bat an eyelash at circumstantial evidence like this.”

“I know he’s tied up in this somehow.”

“Your gut knows, but your head isn’t thinking.”

“There’s something wrong with this guy, Pierce. Something evil.”

“Do you fear for your safety?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Can you?” he asks pointedly.

And OK, I’m just a lawyer, I’m not like Nick and the others at ASI. I’m not even like Dominic, who helps out on weekends and has known how to handle a handgun since he could probably walk. But I’m also not incapable of throwing a punch when needed, or swinging a car door or baseball bat, when presented with the opportunity, at someone’s head.

And I would do anything to protect Momoko.

“I can,” I say with conviction.

“And Momoko?” Pierce asks. “Does she need our help?”

“She’s got me.” Pierce offers another raised eyebrow look. “And her brother, Koki,” I reluctantly add.

“She’s Koki’s sister? Why didn’t you say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” I’d rather not think too often of her connection to batshit crazy Koki.

“If she’s Koki’s sister, she’ll have ASI behind her.” As if having me is quite clearly not enough.

I sigh.

“Listen,” Pierce says. “Things are hot right now and your Triads are right in the middle of it. If all goes well today, they might not be thinking of small time worries such as shitting on a lawyer’s bed.”

“What
are
you guys doing?” I ask, flicking a glance around the now rapidly emptying room.

Pierce stands, and slips his jacket off the chair back, shrugging it onto his shoulders.

“Can’t say, my man. But why don’t you go check on Momoko. Take her somewhere safe for the rest of the day. Oh,” he adds. “It might pay to let Koki know what’s happening.”

And then he’s gone with the rest of the detectives in a mass exodus of CIB.

And I have still no fucking idea of what is happening.

“Tell Koki?” I mutter to myself as I follow them all much more sedately. “Fat fucking chance.”

But I do go to Momoko. I can’t stay away.

It takes a few long minutes and lots of hard earned practice at arguing my case to persuade Momoko to shut up shop early. But by midday we’re driving away from the Viaduct towards the eastern suburbs.

We spend a glorious couple of hours at Mission Bay, eating ice cream, sitting in the sun, walking hand and hand along the beach at the water’s edge. By the time the sun starts dipping toward Rangitoto Island, we’re slightly sunburned and windswept, but totally relaxed.

Being with Momoko is like being with a really close friend. We talk about everything. We laugh and joke, teasing each other, and then just when you think things couldn’t get better, she kisses me. Or she doesn’t say no when I kiss her instead.

It’s utter bliss. It’s an illusion. And maybe that’s why I take her home to my place. Maybe that’s why we’ve created this bubble, allowing ourselves to believe for this small moment in time, that everything is perfect, everything is exactly as it should be. That we’re safe.

I don’t think about Triads or Yakuza or Tadashi Ishikawa or Koki Tanaka or anything that could burst our little bubble. I just take the woman I’m falling in love with into my house and into my bed. It’s natural. It’s so normal, I can’t picture it any other way. In such a short amount of time, she’s become a fixture in my world. One I can’t imagine not being there. Not being part of my life in some way.

I make love to her. I worship her. She calls me
koibito
, lover she says. She asks me to
chuu suru
, to kiss her. I’ll never say no.

We lie side by side, languid in the afterglow of sex, and whisper to each other. This woman owns me.

“I was married once,” I find myself saying. “A long time ago.” I want her to know everything. I have no secrets. Not with Momo. She’s welcome to look inside my soul and see everything that is me. I am an open book and I want her to turn the pages.

“What happened?” she asks softly, running her finger down my arm and back up again.

We’re beneath the sheet, but that’s all that covers us. My leg is between hers, her knee rests over my thigh. There is nothing separating our bodies.

“I won’t lie,” I say. “I loved her. I thought everything was perfect.” It’s strange how your sense of perfection can change. “But it wasn’t perfect for her,” I say.

Momo’s big, dark eyes stare up at me, a pool of warmth and affection. I wonder if she loves me. I wonder if she’s fallen as hard as I’ve fallen for her. We’re living in a storybook and one I fear will not end happily ever after.

“It’s mundane,” I say. “Nothing extraordinary.” I shrug my shoulder. It no longer pains me to talk about this. “She met someone else. Fell in love. Left me.”

“Finn,” Momo says. I’m not sure what else she wants to say, but I quieten her with a kiss. It’s soft and warm and says, “It’s OK. I’m OK. I’ve got this.”

But even though these moments with Momoko are bittersweet perfection, I know our time is running out. I’m not sure what’s happening with the Triads, what Pierce and his detectives from CIB are doing right now. But I do know that Tadashi Ishikawa won’t go away.

“Are you going to marry him?” I ask. Her hand stills on my arm.

The bubble breaks.

“I have no choice,” she says.

“Why, Momo?” I ask. “Please. Tell me why?”

She stares at me a long moment, and I’m sure she’s not going to open up. But maybe because I have, because I’ve laid myself so bare, she starts to talk.

And I listen. Because I’ll always listen to what this woman has to say.

“My father,” she starts, and it always seems to start with him. “He was Yakuza back in Japan.”

I’m strangely not as surprised as I should be. It explains a lot. His hiding away down here to “get out.” The way he controls his children. Koki’s zeal when it comes to working for Nick. Momoko’s belief she has to obey her father. Tanaka-sama is not someone to thwart.

“They did not wish for him to leave, but he sought his freedom,” she says. “For many years, he believed he was free.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“The Triads happened,” she says bleakly. “They found out who he was. Who he still is. Even apart from the Yakuza, you are still considered family.”

“They’re blackmailing him,” I say, putting the pieces together. They threaten his daughter’s business, they threaten him. But what does Tanaka senior plan to do about it?

“Yes,” Momo says simply. “Papa had to seek help.”

“And the payment was Tadashi,” I guess.

She nods her head.

“The help didn’t work,” I point out. “The Triads are still blackmailing you. They’ve escalated even. To abduction and assault. Vandalism.”

“Tadashi is a downpayment, so to speak. He must be paid in full first, before the Yakuza will make their move.”

It doesn’t seem like a very fair exchange. If you can call this type of thing fair, that is. But I would have thought Momo’s father would have more business sense than that. And I can’t imagine Koki agreeing to any of this.