Emperor of Lust: Chapter 27

Kai, Takeshi and I stand in the park across the street from one of Tokyo’s most-visited hostess clubs.

Or, more accurately, what was one of Tokyo’s most visited hostess clubs.

Something tells me its popularity might dip a little, starting tonight. What with it being on fucking fire and all.

I smile grimly as I watch the flames tonguing up the walls, devouring the building like it’s a snack, each floor lit up in a wave of scorching red and orange. There’s supreme satisfaction watching something that belonged to Kolya Ishida turn to ash after the shit he pulled today.

My jaw tightens.

I don’t give a fuck about his message. Or the building he torched. I do give a serious fuck that Hana could have been badly hurt.

She could have died. And for that reason alone, what happened earlier is not going unanswered.

Next to me, Takeshi stands with his arms crossed, his face illuminated by the blaze, a savage grin on his face as he watches it all go up. Kai’s a quiet shadow beside him as he flicks his Zippo and deftly lights a cigarette.

“Job well done, boys,” Takeshi mutters, his voice rough. He doesn’t look at us; his eyes are still fixed on the inferno, pride radiating off him like heat. “Job well fucking done.”

I nod grimly. Kai exhales a thin plume of smoke, his expression calm as ever. But there’s a faint smirk on his lips as he regards the flames.

Takeshi chuckles darkly. “Kolya wanted a war. Well, he’s got one.”

I stop at the hotel to make sure Hana is safe. She’s sleeping when I get there, so I kiss her softly, not wanting to wake her. I double-check that the five guards I have watching the suite, the ten men patrolling the hallways and the roof, and the dozen more in the lobby are good and sharp.

Then I have business to attend to.

Tokyo’s night air is cold against my skin as I scale the wall surrounding the US Ambassador’s residence. Getting in is surprisingly easy: the guards move in predictable rotations, and the security systems themselves are slightly outdated.

I easily dodge the patrols and climb a lattice of ivy to a second-floor balcony. I slip inside the house itself, moving silently, with purpose.

I want fucking answers.

The massive residence is tastefully decorated with old-world, moneyed elegance. From down the hall, I hear the faint hum of voices. I follow the sound, every sense locked in.

Inside the sweeping library, the Donahues sit together, sipping wine and watching the news like they’re untouchable, like they haven’t destroyed lives and stayed clean doing it.

Tonight, that illusion is going to shatter.

Their backs are to me as I step closer, my katana sliding free with a cold, lethal snick that fills the room.

Judge Donahue lets out a startled, choked gasp as she and her husband snap their heads around to face me, their expressions morphing from shock to pale, horrified realization.

I press the blade to Josh’s father’s throat, just hard enough to show him that I’m not here for games.

“W-whatever you want,” he bleats. “Take it! There’s cash in the safe in the bedroom, jewelry. All yours, just⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your things,” I growl. I smile coldly as I twist the hilt, letting the very tip of the blade dance lightly over Kempton Donahue’s jugular. The smallest bead of red appears on his skin before slowly dripping down to his collar.

I lean closer, my voice a razor-sharp whisper. “Your son hurt someone I care about deeply. And you—” I drag the blade closer, feeling his skin twitch under the edge. “You hurt her just as badly.”

The blood drains from his face, his hands rising in surrender. “Look, let’s… Let’s be reasonable—” he stammers.

I cut him off with a glare. “Too late for that. Explain yourself now, or I start opening veins.” I press the blade against his skin, making him flinch.

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” he says, his voice wavering.

My smile curls venomously. “I know everything, Senator,” I growl. My eyes drag over to his wife. “Your Honor,” I sneer as her face goes white. “Your son tried to rape a girl. And instead of helping her, or apologizing, or leaving her the fuck alone,” I snarl, “you blackmailed her.”

“Blackmail?!” Judge Donahue blurts shrilly. “That little bitch’s psycho brother murdered our⁠—!”

She shrieks as I grab her by the hair and yank her off the couch. Her husband starts screaming too when I drag her across the floor and press my blade to her throat.

“Speak of her that way again,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my vision already red, “and I’ll go to work on your face like a fucking butcher. Nod if you understand.”

The Honorable Judge Donahue nods quickly.

“Now then,” I snarl.

“I—I can pay back the money!” Senator Donahue blurts. “Tonight!”

I level a cold look at him. “Yes, you will.” My mouth twists. “Out of curiosity, why did you stop shaking her down every year?”

Senator Donahue hesitates. I pull the blade away from his wife and in two strides I’m in front of him, shoving him to his knees, the katana resting against his jugular again.

“Speak,” I snarl coldly.

“I was convinced to stop!” he yelps. “Look, I did a lot of good with that money! I used it to get elected! She came from a criminal family, and I thought it was…justice, you know? I used that money to finance my campaigns, to do good. Do you know how much good I’ve done?” he screams, his voice self-righteous.

“You think extortion is good?” My grip on the hilt tightens.

“No, I…listen,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “I’m sorry, truly. I made mistakes, but I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Funny, I have a hard time seeing blackmail that way,” I spit back.

His wife cuts in, “But… Think of his career, of the things he’s accomplished! That was mafia money. Blood money! We used it to get into a position to help people⁠—”

“You used it to torture Hana for years with the memory of what your fuckhead son did to her,” I growl. I drag my eyes back to Josh’s dad. “Who convinced you to stop.”

He gulps weakly. “One of Josh’s friends. He worked for me; inner circle type stuff. A little over a year ago, when the rumors started that I might get tapped for the Ambassador position here in Tokyo…” He lifts his shoulders. “Ed convinced me it was unwise to continue coming to her for money.”

I don’t blink. “That why you fired him?”

Donahue gasps. “No! No, of course not. Poor boy had a drug and gambling problem, and it was seriously affecting his work. I fired him, yes, but I also tried to send him to rehab, on my dime.”

I nod slowly. “So what happened when he threatened to start telling people it was blackmail money financing your campaigns?”

I’m just spit-balling here. But it turns out my hunch was right.

Donahue’s face goes sheet-white. His eyes dart to his wife before he looks back at me, looking guilty as sin.

“I—I don’t know what you’re⁠—”

“Is that why you killed him?” I press. “Keep him quiet?”

“Please…” Senator Donahue wails. “Please, let me just⁠—”

“Let’s talk about the video,” I growl, my tone ice-cold. “The one of your son and his little friends torturing Hana. The one of your little darling trying to rape her while she screamed and begged him to stop.”

Something breaks in Judge Donahue’s face. She cups a hand to her mouth, horror in her eyes as she looks away.

But her husband’s face is a mask of confusion and genuine ignorance. “V-video?” he stammers. “Oh God, there’s a fucking video?”

I study him, the desperation in his eyes.

“I know you sent it to her, Senator,” I growl. “On the iPad.”

Judge Donahue looks sick as she whirls on her husband. “Kempton,” she blurts, horrified. “Did you send her a video of what he did to her? I didn’t even know⁠—”

“Neither did I, Blythe!” he replies, his face lined and white. “I never sent her anything!” He spins back to me, genuine fear on his face. “I swear to whatever you hold holy,” he insists. “I didn’t send that girl anything!”

My mouth thins.

“Think about it!” he begs. “Right now, my son’s death is viewed as a tragic accident. What he did that night has never seen the light of day. If I knew there was video evidence of his crime?” He shakes his head. “I’d have destroyed every damn frame of it. Not sent her a copy.”

Well, fuck. He’s got a point.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please. I made a horrible mistake. I was angry, and I was so, so broken up about my son. I knew he’d done something unforgivable, but he was still my son. I know I handled it badly—threatening that poor girl, taking from her…”

He looks up at me. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to make it up to her. To Hana. I’ve done wrong, and I truly want to make amends.”

I stare at him keenly. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll pay back every cent I took from her.” He pauses. “And I’d like to…” He glances at his wife, then drags his eyes to me. “Sweeten the deal, so to speak.”

My eyes glint. “Excuse me?”

“May I?” He starts to stand. I nod, backing away as he and his wife get to their feet. “Look,” Senator Donahue sighs. “What are you, Yakuza?”

“Bratva,” I growl. “But allied with the Mori-kai Yakuza.”

He nods. “Well, let me explain to you how government works.” He smiles wryly. “It’s corrupt. Always. And the way to get good things done is to align yourself with the right ‘wrong’ people.”

My brows lift. “You want to ally yourself with my organization.”

The Senator smiles. “Would it be so bad? It could be win-win. As Ambassador, I’ll have a decent amount of influence on the Japanese government—on their policies regarding organized crime, for example. Or sentencing maximums.”

Christ, what a corrupt fuck. At the same time, he’s right.

This could be win-win. Bigtime, too.

“What, precisely, would you want from me in exchange of this…influence?”

“Information on those you consider enemies.” He shrugs. “I’ll be seen as cleaning up the streets by helping to shut down certain organizations…” He lifts a significant brow. “While quietly allowing other organizations…shall we say…carte blanche?”

My God. I hate that I’m even considering this. But he does have a point.

“You think this buys my forgiveness?”

“I think it’s a start,” he says, a faint smirk on his lips. “Plus this.” He turns and walks to a desk in the corner. He opens a drawer, pulls out checkbook and pen, and makes it out.

“Here.” He strides back to me and hands me the check.

Fuck me. That’s…a lot.

“You’ll note I left the recipient blank. Keep it for yourself,” he shrugs, “or she can cash it personally, or pump it back into her family’s organization. Up to you.”

I glance again at the massive check before I fold it up and slip it into my pocket.

“What do you say…” Senator Donahue frowns. “I’m sorry, I missed your name.”

“Damian,” I mutter.

He smiles. “Damian. Do you think we have a deal?”

“We might,” I say quietly. “It’s not my decision.”

“But you’ll bring it to those whose decision it is?”

I suck on my teeth, eying him. Donahue is clearly a self-serving opportunistic shit. But that plays in my favor right now.

“I will,” I growl.

He beams, clasping his hands together. “Excellent!” he cries. “Truly excellent!”

He chuckles as he turns to refill their wine glasses and pour one for me. Josh’s mom walks over and hands me mine.

“A toast?” she says hopefully, smiling. “To a mutually beneficial new relationship here in Japan?”

“I’ll bring the offer to my uncle,” I murmur. “That’s all I can promise.” I turn to level a hard look at Donahue. “You should know, if I bring this to Hana, and she wants you dead…” I smile as his face pales. “That’s what will happen.”

He chuckles nervously. “Well, here’s hoping. Cheers,” he blurts, tapping his glass to mine.

“Na zdoroviehe,” I growl, taking a sip.

“You know, Damian,” Donahue smiles. “I’m glad you broke in tonight. This could be a real opportunity for all of us. I mean, that’s the reality in Tokyo. The Yakuza runs it. You have to play with them if you want to play at all.”

I grin. “Cost of doing business.”

“Exactly!” he says. “Exactly true.”

“What did you say your organization was, Damian?” Judge Donahue asks with a polite smile. “Bratva, allied with the Mor-kai Yakuza?”

“Nikolayev Bratva,” I grunt. “My uncle Kir runs it.”

I frown to myself. Why did I volunteer that so easily?

“Yes, I’ve heard of him!” Donahue nods. “A real fighter, your uncle. Powerful.” He grins. “If he also wants to talk alliances… I’m always listening.”

“Listening to what,” I chuckle. “Rock ’n’ roll? Or are you more of a hip hop guy?”

A giggle ripples from my throat at the hilarious concept of this man listening to ultra-aggressive rap.

The frown creases my brow again.

What the fuck is so funny⁠—

The wine glass drops from my hand.

The room starts to swim a little, gravity encouraging me in various directions. I drop to one knee, bracing myself against the floor as I grit my teeth. I drag my swimming gaze to Donahue, brow furrowing.

“What…the…fuck…”

I fall forward, my face hitting the carpet as I roll onto my back, groaning. I can’t move—can’t lift my arms, can’t kick my legs, can barely keep my eyes open.

I am, however, dimly aware of another person entering the room.

A tall man with pulled-back silvered hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing an expensive gunmetal gray suit with a blood red and black montsuki kimono over it.

A man with Slavic features and a Japanese last name.

Kolya Ishida.

Donahue sighs, batting his eyelashes as he leans over me. “Yes, Damian, I’m afraid the sad reality is that you have to play with the Yakuza if you want to play at all in this town.”

My vision blurs and dims, growing darker and darker…

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, “I’ve already picked a team.”

And everything fades to black.