The Devil Inside (16 page)

She’s a witness. I should kill her.
 

“Please!”

There’s something about her face that strikes a deep, powerful memory in me.
 

“You working for these people?” I cast a sidelong glance at Lucini’s lifeless form. “As a whore?”

The girl shakes her head. “They took me. Forced me to do this. Because our family owed them money.” She laughs bitterly. “That fat asshole was about to ‘break me in’, as he said. I’m glad you killed him.”

“Shit.” I shake my head and sit down on the bed beside her, the gun dangling from my hand. My hard-wired logic tells me she needs to die. She’s young. She can be forced to talk. If the Feds ever got a hold of her, she’d spill. But she’s looking at me with those goddamn honey brown eyes that are full of fear and something else; gratitude. She’d rather die than be forced to fuck Vincent Lucini.
 

And she looks so hauntingly familiar.

“You remind me of someone,” I murmur. “You’re like a younger version of her.”

“The only person I sort of look like is my sister.” Her frightened expression turns curious. Her eyes move up and down, scrutinizing me. “And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t know her.”

I meet her stare and she glances away, shy, afraid, vulnerable. I don’t know what I must look like to her. I’m dressed in black from head to toe. Black Lakers cap, black leather jacket, black jeans, black gloves. The Glock fits in my hand like an extension of my body, its weight comfortable and familiar.

People think killing is a dirty business. It can be, sometimes, but I like to keep my work quick and clean.
 

I take a deep breath, looking down at the beige carpet. Beside me, the girl doesn’t move. She’s perfectly still, her long, slender limbs bound together.

Ah, fuck.

I stand up, and she flinches. I tuck the gun into my waistband, spreading my palms. “Relax.” I reach over and untie her bonds. There are red welts around her wrists and ankles. She pulls the sheet around her naked body defensively. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Famous last words. She might talk. I have no way of ensuring she doesn’t. So why am I letting her go?
 

Maybe this is what a normal person would choose to do. I’m doing this, because it’s my choice.

I put a finger to my lips. “Not a word, remember?”

She nods, biting her lower lip. Tears pool in her eyes. She swallows, fighting them back. So similar, yet so different.

“You didn’t see me. You weren’t here when they were killed, got it? Get dressed, and disappear.”

I turn and walk out, stepping over Vincent Lucini’s dead body, down the stairs and outside, into the broad daylight. I pull the cap down over my eyes. Anyone sees me, they’ll say the same thing: male, Asian, late twenties, early thirties, maybe. Hard to tell. Wearing a black Lakers cap, dark glasses. I could be hundreds of thousands of guys in the state of California.
 

For the first time in my life, I’ve left a witness alive. I couldn’t do it. Not when she looks so much like
her
. And if by some crazy turn of fate they turn out to be related, she’ll have a good reason not to talk.
 

I’ll make sure of that.

Kaito

I leave the car in an empty street, south of downtown, keys in the ignition. I drop the Lakers cap on the driver’s seat, a souvenir. If a witness saw me, the only thing they’ll remember is the cap. To most eyes, I’m too generic looking. People are better at remembering the familiar. The car will be gone in a few hours, and the thieves will get rid of the fake plates. It’s the easiest way to dispose of a car, leaving nothing to link me to it. I catch a bus back to my apartment. The sun’s setting, painting the sky with fire. Rows of tall palms are silhouetted in black against the burning sky. The spectacular display does nothing to lift my bad mood.

Today has proven one thing to me. I’ve lost none of my skill when it comes to killing.

It came back way too easily. Like riding a bike.

A part of me secretly hoped the Kuroda Group would forget about me, and leave me to live out my bland, boring existence, just another face in this strange, wild city. I thought I could play at being half decent, even if my job involved money laundering. I’ve even given up smoking.

But the family never forgets.
 

That night in the sushi bar, I should have let those two assholes beat me half to death. Would have, if they hadn’t touched Adele. Then, I never would have fallen under Erika Goto’s radar.

Damn that stupid temper of mine.
 

Now I’m doing dirty work again, nothing more than a paid killer. When the Kuroda Group calls, you come running. Because they can fuck up everything for you, in an instant, worse than you could ever have imagined. I’ve seen it happen before. I’ve done it to people.
 

Who am I kidding? They were always going to call on me, sooner or later. Once you join the yakuza, you never leave.

When I reach the lobby of my apartment, the concierge, a guy called Sanada, pulls me aside with an apologetic bow.

He works for the Kuroda Group too, even if he doesn’t know it. They own the building.

“Araki-sama, my humble apologies.” He’s speaking
keigo
, the most polite form of Japanese. It’s faintly ridiculous, and it irritates me. That means there’s a problem.

“What’s the problem?”

“That woman, I told her you weren’t home, but she insisted. She said you would be displeased if I sent her away. I told her to come back later, but she said she needed to see you urgently, that it was an emergency.” The concierge bows again, stiffly. “She was making a scene. I was going to call security, but she told me you would be very upset if I had her removed. There were other residents in the lobby at the time. She was really causing a scene! So I allowed her up. I didn’t know what else to do. My most humble apologies.”

“You let her into my apartment?”

“No, of course not. I just let her up in the elevator. She’s probably waiting at your door. If you want me to call security, I can, but I didn’t want to upset you, in case what she was saying was true. I’m so sorry. Truly sorry.” He hovers beside me, flustered and awkward.
 

I sigh. Now is not the time. I don’t want to see Adele when I’m like this. I want to go upstairs and drink whiskey and sit and watch the city until the sun sets and it becomes a glittering mess in the darkness.

I want to be alone, because I’m not a nice person right now.

I’m half tempted to ask the concierge to call security, but I can’t do that to her. I can’t treat her with that kind of disrespect. At the very least, she needs to see my face when I tell her to leave. I turn to Sanada. “Relax, Sanada-san. You did fine. I’m going up now.”

“Of course, Araki-sama.” He falls over himself in relief. Management must keep these guys scared. Anything less than perfection won’t be tolerated. It’s an unwelcome slice of home. I shake my head. Sanada’s just a kid, barely out of his teens. Probably working and studying. They’re all studying, trying to improve themselves, to get a leg up in the world.

I fish a twenty dollar bill out of my pocket. Tipping is so American, so un-Japanese. I’m making a point. “Go get yourself some cigarettes or something. Take a break. You look like you need it.”

Sanada starts to refuse, but I glare at him. He shuts his mouth, blinks, and takes the money.

No-one in this town can refuse money.

Adele

There’s a balcony at the end of the corridor on Kaito’s floor. I flop down on one of the wooden seats, taking in the city sprawled out below. The sun’s turned a fiery red. A warm breeze tugs at my dress, and it flutters around my bare legs.

I keep half an eye on the corridor. I don’t care if I have to wait all night to catch him. I’ve run out of options. Mina’s still missing and the police haven’t turned up any leads. I’m desperately hoping that Kaito might be able to do something, might know someone who can give us a lead.
 

I’ll settle for anything right now.

The other fact is that I need to see him. These last few days, I’ve missed him. I’ve come to find his quiet presence beside me reassuring. I want to see his face, those dark eyes that miss nothing, the full, sensual lips that can be harsh or kind, depending on his mood.

I get up and lean over the balcony railing, into the wind, the warm breeze whipping my hair around my face.
 

The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I turn around.

Kaito’s there, leaning in the doorframe, staring at me. The man is a ghost. I didn’t hear him at all. He’s wearing a pair of dark glasses, making his expression hard to read. He’s dressed in black from head to toe. Black jeans, black leather jacket, black t-shirt. He’s even wearing black leather gloves, the kind used for driving.

“What are you doing here, Adele?” His voice is cold. He seems different, somehow.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Preferably in private.” I glance past him to see a woman in gym clothes exiting the elevator. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Kaito turns and gestures for me to follow with a flick of his head, not saying a word. I trail him into his apartment. He walks straight over to his fridge, opens the door and places something inside. I try to see what it is, but he’s too quick.
 

He turns around, removing the shades. It’s dark in his apartment. He hasn’t bothered to turn on the lights. The glow of the setting sun plays against blank walls, casting abstract shadows amongst fragments of orange and red light.

“What are you doing here, Adele?” Kaito’s voice is soft. I’m coming to understand that tone of voice. It puts me on edge.

“Something’s come up,” I reply cautiously, waiting to gauge his response. “I wanted to ask your advice about it.”

“I’m not the best person to help you right now.”
 

“You haven’t even heard me out.”

We’re both standing, separated by the gleaming kitchen island. Kaito’s gaze is hooded, his eyes dark and shadowed. He looks me up and down. I’m wearing a light, red summer dress, but all of a sudden, I feel naked.
 

Kaito inclines his head, almost imperceptibly. I take a deep breath and continue. “My sister’s missing. I need your help.”

He looks at me with a hard, calculating expression. “How old is she?”

“She’s only sixteen. It’s been two days, Kaito. Our family’s in trouble. My father got mixed up with some bad people. I think her disappearance is connected somehow.”

“What makes you think I can do anything about it?”

“You know how to deal with these kinds of people, Kaito.”

He circles the kitchen bench, stalking towards me. “What ‘kinds’ of people are they, Adele?”

“You know, people who don’t necessarily follow the law. People like Masahiro, or-”

“Or?”
 

I hesitate, realizing what I was about to say. Kaito’s right in front of me now, his crisp, masculine scent surrounding me. He slides one gloved finger under my chin and tilts my face upward, his dark gaze traveling over me. He’s so close, his face inches from mine. In the fading light, shadow embraces him like an old friend, making him look almost ethereal, but at the same time, menacing.
 

“People like who, Adele?”

Like you, Kaito.

I stay silent, frozen under his stare. Something’s happened. Kaito’s acting strangely. A sliver of fear traces up my spine, but at the same time, I’m aroused as hell.

Damn this confusing, asshole-acting, terrifying, beautiful man.
 

What’s with the attitude all of a sudden?

He traces a gloved finger along my cheek. “You should leave.”

“What?” I blink, confused. “You’re not going to help me?”

“Teenagers take off all the time. It’s part of growing up. Your sister will come back. You should go home and wait for her.”

“You’re not listening.” Annoyed, I grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from my face. Kaito doesn’t resist. Instead, he reverses his grip, stilling my arm, his fingers tight around my slender wrist. “This isn’t a case of simple teenage rebellion.”

“I told you, I can’t help you. You need to leave.”

I try to raise my hand, but his grip is like steel. Frustration builds, along with my arousal, warmth spreading through my core, my body betraying me. Fuck this. “So you only want me around when it suits you? Is that what this whole thing is to you, Kaito? Am I just another hostess girl to you?”

He looks me up and down, still grabbing my wrist, his leather encased fingers hard on my bare skin. “That’s all you are,” he says, slowly, cruelly. “Now get out.”

But he’s still holding on to me, unable to let go of my arm.

“Fuck you,” I snarl. “I don’t believe you. I don’t know what you’ve done, what’s gotten into you to make you act like this, but I’m not going anywhere until you agree to help me.”

We stand in deadlock, staring at each other, Kaito looking at me with eyes that hold a swirling storm. His expression is unreadable, but his body can’t lie. There’s a bulge in the front of his jeans. He’s as turned on as I am.
 

Oh, shit.

He releases my wrist. “Take it off,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

“What?” I blink, stunned.

“Take off the dress, or leave.”

“Fuck you.” I can’t believe the audacity. I came here to ask about Mina, and now he’s got us caught up in this again. “This is so inappropriate.”

I’m fighting to stay in control, but under the thin, cotton dress, my nipples are hard. My panties are moist. Fucking traitorous body. I shouldn’t do this, but I’m being driven by something I can’t control. I really, shouldn’t do this. But with this man, all my sense goes out the window. Lust consumes me, and I can only think of one thing right now.

“You wanted to stay.” Kaito murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

I’m helpless, mesmerized.

I take a deep breath. Slowly, I cross my arms, pulling the dress over my head. I’m wearing simple cotton panties and a thin, lace triangle bra that reveals my erect nipples.