The Devil Inside (3 page)

It’s been a busy night. I’m tired and my feet are sore. I don’t really care what Kaito does with those two assholes. Especially after that Angelo guy tried his little groping stunt on me.

I make my way into the kitchen. The stainless steel benches gleam, wiped clean after a busy night. I hear the rush of water and someone humming. It's Jun, one of the cooks. He's out the back, washing up. The harsh scrape of vigorous brushing and the clang of dishes against the steel sink reaches my ears. Jun obviously hasn't heard the disturbance out front.

There’s a tin of green tea in the cupboard. I drop the triangular teabags into two mugs and fill them with hot water from the autoboil. I watch as the teabags puff up and swirl around, inhaling the comforting, slightly acrid aroma.
 

A muted scream echoes from the dining room. It’s Angelo. I hear whimpers, then nothing.
 

Silence. It feels like none of this is real, as if I’m stuck as an extra in a violent movie.

I try to stay calm, but my heart’s pounding in my chest. I don’t know what Kaito’s doing out there. I really should leave right now, but I don’t want Kaito think I’ve gone to the cops. I’m a bit worried about what he might do. Would he come after me?

Besides, cops don’t do shit after-the-fact. I learned that a long time ago.
 

I like this job, I really do. It’s easy. I get along with the people here. It supports me while I try to juggle part-time study and work on my art. I have a bachelor’s degree in Fine Art. I draw, do graphic design. I’m trying to build up my portfolio, bit by bit. It’s a labour of love, but it doesn’t yet pay the bills.

Waitressing pays the rent.

With this job, I’ve even been able to save up a little cash. Soon, I’ll be able to afford a car.
 

So somehow, I have to convince Kaito I won’t tell anyone about his dirty little secret. Because I want to keep working here. It’s obvious he used to be someone else in a past life. Maybe that’s why he came to the States. Maybe he’s running from something.

I’m not about to ask.

I don’t really want to know what Kaito is mixed up in. Violence seems to come to him so easily. It unexpected, and it scares me. But somehow, I get the feeling he would never hurt me.

I hope I’m right.

After what seems like an eternity, Kaito appears in the kitchen. He finds me leaning over the stainless steel bench, staring into my half-empty mug of green tea. At first, I don’t speak. I don’t know what to say. What happened out there isn’t exactly a conversation starter. And I’m still not sure where I stand in all of this.

I’m a witness. Is that going to be a problem?

I push the other mug of tea towards him. “Um, I made you tea.” It sounds lame. I glance up and see that Kaito has shed his black suit jacket. He’s wearing a white long-sleeved business shirt and tailored black pants. I’ve always thought he dresses too formally for a guy who just comes in to do the books in the evenings.
 

An angry bruise has blossomed under his left eye. There’s a graze on one cheek and his lip is split. Blood has trickled down his neck and dried, smearing the edge of his pristine, white collar.

Kaito takes the mug into his hands. He has long, elegant fingers.
 

I wonder if he’s killed anyone with those graceful hands.

My gaze drifts back to his face, and I’m relieved to see his expression soften. That terrible, empty look in his dark eyes is gone.
 

But he's staring at me intensely and I find myself drawn to him. Kaito has razor-sharp cheekbones and a long, straight nose above full, expressive lips. His black hair is a slicked-back crew cut, slightly longer on top.
 

Underneath the cuts and bruises, he’s actually a beautiful man.
 

Kaito takes a sip of his tea and moves closer to me. I lower my eyes, embarrassed. There are serious problems to discuss and I’m checking him out.
 

Kaito offers me a small bow. “Sorry you had to see that, Adele. Are you all right?”

He’s back to the normal, reserved Kaito. I’m relieved, but at the same time struggling to understand how he can switch from ruthless violence to calm politeness in the blink of an eye.
 

I play with the teabag floating around in my cup, unsure of myself. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

Kaito laughs, but the sound is flat, devoid of humor. “Of course not. I was planning to give them the money, let them beat me up. I wasn’t going to fight. But then he put his hands on you.”

I stare at him, speechless. Talk about a hair-trigger temper. He flipped out because that asshole touched me? My heart beats a little faster, fueled by a sliver of fear and the intensity in Kaito’s expression.
 

He seems to sense it, because he lays a hand on my arm. His skin is warm, his palm rough and callused, but gentle. I’m hyper-aware of his touch, the sensation of his long fingers caressing my skin. It’s electric. “Adele, you have nothing to fear from me.” His voice is soft, almost pleading.
 

The skepticism must be written all over my face. Kaito withdraws his hand, and something close to self-loathing crosses his features, hidden so fast I almost miss it. “I can see how you might have difficulty believing me.” A small, bitter laugh escapes him. “In Japan, I wasn’t what you would call a ‘good person’. But I’m finished with that life now.”

I almost want to believe him, but there’s something a little bit desperate about the way he’s telling it, as if he’s trying to convince himself, too.

I put my tea down, running a hand through my hair, which I’ve taken out of its ponytail. I sigh. “They’ll be back in bigger numbers, you know. And the cops won’t do anything because we can’t give them proof.” The CCTV footage would be perfect evidence, except it shows Kaito kicking the shit out of Angelo and lord knows what else.

Self-preservation tells me to quit this job now. I have enough money saved to live off for a few months. Maybe it’s time to take a chance and go full-time with my art, see if I can survive.
 

Tonight has shaken me more than I care to admit.

Kaito tries to reassure me. “I’ll make sure they won’t bother you again, Adele. Forget this ever happened.” He raises an eyebrow in an ironic way. “And please, keep this quiet.”

“I’m not about to go running to the cops,” I assure him. “But how can I forget it? They said they worked for Lucini. Do you know what that means? They’re mafia, Kaito.” I shake my head. Kaito’s only one man. Even if he knows how to kick ass, you don’t go against the mob. I don’t know what he did to those two thugs, but if he didn’t kill them, they’ll be back. And they’ll be pissed.

Kaito doesn’t even blink. “The owners will fix things.” He seems so certain of himself. It’s bordering on naive.
 

I shake my head in frustration. “It’s the freaking mob we’re talking about, Kaito. They’re not so easy to shake off.”

A small, enigmatic smile curves his lips. “Don’t let it bother you, Adele. Nothing has to change because of this. You can’t run away because of one bad night.”

His last statement digs little claws into me. I hate to admit it, but he’s hit a sensitive spot. I have a habit of disappearing when things get rough. Call it a preservation instinct. Years of living with my family taught me all about self-preservation. The way Kaito seems to be able to read me is a bit unnerving. My irritation starts to rise.

He’s found the stubborn streak in me that rears its head every now and then. “I didn’t say I was planning to quit,” I snap. “Stores around here get held up all the time. If I quit every time this kind of thing happened, I’d be out of a job.”

“That’s true.” Something like approval gleams in Kaito’s eyes. His lips quirk, as if he’s amused. The goddamn nerve.

But then the expression is gone, and I’m left wondering. The man is so damn inscrutable. It’s infuriating.

“Thanks for the concern, but I don’t need it. I’m not going anywhere. I need to go and close out the till.” I take my empty mug and brush past him, feeling his dark eyes on me.
 

“The money’s all there. Need help?”

“Nope.” I exit the kitchen, not looking back. I’m confused. Underneath Kaito’s polite act is something unpredictable, something scary. Rei was right. He’s not what he seems to be. I should stay the hell away from him. I don’t want to uncover that darkness. But there’s also this flutter of excitement I’m finding harder and harder to ignore.
 

The attraction hasn’t died. It’s grown even stronger. This could be a problem.
 

I shake my head. This beautiful, scary, walking contradiction called Kaito is someone I should definitely keep at arm’s length from now on.

Kaito

I offer Adele a lift as we leave Fat Dragon. She refuses, shaking her head. She tells me she’ll doesn’t live far from here, and she’ll be fine. There’s a trace of fear in her eyes.
 

I’ve scared her. Shit.

I don’t like the idea of Adele walking home on her own after what happened in the restaurant, but I know those men aren’t going to bother her tonight. Not after what I did to them. They’ve probably gone to the ER to try and get shithead’s finger sewn back on.

Nothing I can say will get her into the car with me, so I let it be. I don’t want her think any worse of me than what she already does.

We say a terse goodbye and I get into my white Toyota and drive through the streets of West LA until I find myself downtown, in Little Tokyo. Everything about me in America is nondescript, even my car.

I find this place bizarre. It’s a transplanted piece of Japan that’s mutated into something strange yet familiar. The hotels and restaurants are full of middle-aged Japanese businessmen, seeking home comforts in this wild country.

I park on the street and enter a plain looking doorway with a golden plaque beside it. In English, it says
Black Rose
. Below it, in Japanese, are the words
hostess bar.

I climb two flights of stairs and enter a dim lounge. A low chill out beat is punctuated by high-pitched laughter. In dark corner booths, businessmen in dark suits and loosened ties sip whisky, surrounded by barely dressed girls who are ten, twenty years their junior.

We could be in Tokyo right now.

A woman approaches me. She eyes me up and down, a predatory smile crossing her face. My beaten up appearance doesn’t faze her at all. A true professional, this one. She’s probably calculating how much money she can get out of me tonight. Her greying hair is done up in a severe bun, and she’s wearing too much makeup. This must be Mama-san.

“Good evening, sir.” She bows and greets me in Japanese. She sounds deceptively cheerful. “Welcome to the Black Dragon. Please allow me to show you to a table.”
 

In my plain dark suit, I look like one of her usual customers. Even in LA, my countrymen come here and buy overpriced drinks just so they can talk to women. It’s talk and touch only; no-one’s getting their dicks wet. Apparently, pussy is more attractive when it’s unattainable.

As Mama-san ushers me into a dark corner, I pull her aside and whisper into her ear. “I’ll have a Yamazaki whisky. Neat. And tell Masa Takashi that his
aniki
from Ikebukuro is here to see him.”

Mama-san stiffens and regards me with wary eyes. She hesitates as I slide into the corner booth. “I’m really very sorry, sir, but Takashi-san is not available right now.” She’s switched to polite Japanese. It irritates
 
the hell out of me.
 

I respond by speaking crudely. “If he’s here, then he’s fucking available. For your own good, Mama-san, he won’t be happy if he finds out I was here and no-one bothered to tell him.”

Mama-san’s eyes widen. She recognizes my tone of voice. “I understand. I’ll let him know right away.” She bows in apology and hurries off. Mama-san didn’t get to where she was by being stupid. If she’s working for Masa, then she’s working for the Kuroda Group, and she might figure out that certain people will be asking for him from time to time.

A hostess appears with my beer. She’s fawning over me and I don’t like it. She pouts as I wave her away in annoyance. I hate this hostess shit. I don’t do artificial. Thoughts of a certain waitress with mesmerizing brown eyes and a body like sin enter my head.

Down, boy. Adele’s not for you.
 

She’s seen me for the thug that I am.

There’s a bit of a commotion, then Masa walks in. He’s put on weight since I saw him last. In a good way. He used to be such a lean, hungry looking kid. He’s wearing an expensive grey suit and has dyed his hair red, kept it a bit longish. Masa’s features are delicate, but his feminine looks are deceiving. He can be vicious.
 

There are two heavy-set guys in suits trailing behind Masa. Looks like he’s come up in the world.
 

Masa stops in front of me and bows deeply before sitting down. “
Aniki.
” He still calls me big brother. I’m only a year older than him. It’s a sign of respect. He’s being cautious. One never knows what a visit from me might mean.

Masa’s eyes go wide as he takes in my appearance. The area around my left eye where that idiot punched me throbs with a dull ache. He can’t hide the expression of shock that unfurls on his face, like a blossoming flower.

But he stays quiet. Masa’s smart enough to know not to ask.

I take a sip of my beer. It’s good. Tastes like home. I show Masa a genuine smile, to put him at ease. “So you’re a little boss now, Masa. How’s business?” I speak in Japanese, even though Masa’s English is as good as mine, accent and all. It should be. We were taught by the same American whores.
 

It’s probably why they’ve sent him over to work in LA.
 

Masa grins, but his eyes are hard. “Things are good. There are more cashed-up Japanese here now than ever.” He leans forward, dropping his voice. “It’s been a long time,
Aniki
. I knew you were here, but you’re a hard man to find.”