Page 4 of Pragma
“Okay.”
“Okay?” This feels like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, and all he says isokay?Is he fucking with me? Is he going to kill me as soon as we take care of Apollo? That’s probably his intention, but do I have another choice?
“Wha’?” He looks at me strangely. “If you don’t get killed you are welcome to tag along. Right now my guts are giving you both thumbs-up. And in case I’m wrong, I’ll just get rid of you.”
He talks about killing me with such indifference. “You are as mad as a dog.”
He gives me a wicked smile. “I have a good feeling about this.” His arm suddenly wraps around my neck in a buddy-like move. Since I’m taller, he has to stretch his torso to reach me.
The sky is clearing as we walk out of the smoking area.
“The car is there.” The boy points at a posh black BMW idling in a no-parking zone near the sidewalk. “Did you leave anything in the hospital?”
I look at the tall, gray building for a moment before shaking my head. I grabbed both my phone and wallet—containing only a hundred bucks—before leaving the hospital room. I don’t own anything else.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He pats my shoulder before letting his arm fall. “Akira. But I kinda like Mad Dog. You?”
“River.”
We stop in front of the car. Akira waits for one of the men to open the backdoor. When he gets inside the car, I hesitate before following him but then force myself to enter. I let my body relax against the soft leather seat. It smells like money and power in here.
“I should probably tell you about my family before we start this…partnership. Have you ever heard of the yakuza?” As he keeps talking, an old saying pops into my head.
For every person you lose along the way, you gain another.
But could someone else really ever fill the empty space my little brother left?
Chapter One
RIVER
NINE YEARS LATER
He’s chewing on that fucking gum so damn loudly. I hate it. He knows it. He does it even more obnoxiously.
“Something wrong, Bunny?” He gives me his devilish, toothy, Hollywood smile.
That damn nickname. I ignore him, keeping my face blank because showing Aki my irritation would only spur him on. The problem is that he can read it anyway. He knows me too well and enjoys pushing all my buttons—repeatedly.
From the first time I met him, I wanted to punch that arrogant smirk off his face. No news there. Since I was very young, I realized that my perception of the world differed from that of others my age. Violence ran through my veins and haunted me in every aspect of my life until it blinded me to reality. I wasn’t that different from my piece of shit of a father; I wanted to beat up everyone—the animosity inside me was eating me up. People irritated me; they still do most of the time. And that was what tied me to Aki. He helps me feed that thirst for destruction while I help him stay alive. A mutual exchange.
Apart from the inner craving for violence and mayhem, we are opposites in everything else. He’s impulsive, I take my time to ponder; he talks non-stop, I’m the silent type; he’s a rule breaker, I’m a rule maker; he cares excessively about his appearance, while I grab the first thing I find lying around—usually a Henley, a vest, black pants, leather boots, and a long coat.
We are water and fire.
I open the back door of the BMW. My eyes fall on him getting out—sheathedkatanain hand. Today the tips of his hair are purple. The little platinumrabbitdangling from the ear cuff swings as he straightens; it makes me bite the inside of my cheek. He wears it only to tease me. He buttons the stylish pink suit jacket—he can pull off shirts and suits in all sorts of colors most people can’t even dare to attempt. Under the lamppost’s artificial light the salmon shade is even starker, it hides his small but fit and agile body.
I’m big and muscular compared to him, but he is the unstoppable one. There’s no way to predict or contain his actions. He is a loose cannon, always blubbering about outlines of a bigger plan he actually makes up as he goes, which in our line of work is fucking suicidal. But Aki is notorious for his savage behavior, deranged tendencies, and penchant for breathing violence instead of oxygen.
“Are all the cogs in that rusty machine of yours moving? Let’s go! I’m famished, Riv.” He’s also fucking rude.
I grit my teeth and look around. “Keep the car warm,” I tell Soma, who’s behind the wheel, before closing the door. We start walking toward the restaurant. The rest of the crew, Karin and Yuna, are outside checking the perimeter.
An ominous feeling is creeping in. Ling Wang, one of the small bosses working for the Chinese Triad askedAki tocome alone for this meeting.Like I’d ever let him go by himself into a viper nest.The yakuza’s truce with the Chinese Triad is fragile at best, and since we came from California to New York to expand Aki’s empire to the East Coast, there’s been rumors of war. The hostility never ceased between our organizations; we just pretended to play well with each other.
Aki and I are part of the Hebikawa family. He is thewakagashira, a high-ranking boss under thekumicho, the big boss. Aki assists him usually by torturing and killing. Meeting Ling Wang today is a rare occurrence—we aren’t the peace keepers, more a coercive force. That’s why tonight’s encounter will probably have a bloody outcome, and that’s the only reason why Aki agreed so easily to it. He will one day take the kumicho’splace, since he is Akira Hebikawa, the last heir of the Hebikawa family. So he pretty much does whatever he wants—unless thekumichoinsists.
