537Chapter Twenty Eight
Akemi stopped breathing. Hell was about to break loose, and no matter what the outcome, it wasn't going to end well. How Takeshi was going to turn things around with his bare hands was beyond her, but she needed to get out of here while her head was still in one place.
"Very well. If that's what you want," Takeshi said, his voice eerily calm. "Why then, Shogo? What's this all for?"
Shogo leaned away from the chair, moving in front of Akemi again while he traced the edge of the blade with his fingertips. "You know that my older brother Renji is taking over the family business, of course. Even if he wasn't the oldest he's still my father's favorite, so it would be foolish to try killing him off."
With his back on her, Akemi attempted to break free from her bondage once more, heart jumping when it felt considerably looser around her wrists. The idiot had been stupid to start cutting, but it proved difficult to undo the ropes without making the man behind Takeshi notice. She eyed Takeshi, whose dead gaze was still on Shogo, hoping he would look at her and somehow get it.
She tried not to move her shoulders too much, using her fingers as deftly as she could to stretch the tear that had already formed. It was a thick, heavy rope, but even as her wrists burned in pain she kept twisting the frayed cords as inconspicuously as possible.
"I figured, hey, I'm the head of security, and you're our biggest client," Shogo prattled on, pointing the knife at Takeshi for emphasis. "You're nothing without our assassins and spies, Mr. Ryuuzaki. Your entire corporation would come tumbling down.
"My men are loyal to me till the day I die, even if Renji takes my father's place. I suppose that's the beautiful irony of it, being a yakuza." Shogo thoughtfully eyed his pointy, leather shoes. "Do you understand where I'm getting at, Mr. Ryuuzaki?"
The ropes came undone, but Akemi held on to them in a death grip. Takeshi's eyes finally met hers, and she prayed to God he somehow realized it as well. She was about to do something very stupid that could spell the end for the both of them, but she had to try. Hopefully Takeshi was better at improvising than she was about to be.
Takeshi bared his teeth at Shogo with a wicked grin. "Oh yes, I understand you perfectly."
Shogo turned around as Akemi flung the rope at him as hard as she could. The thick rope lashed at him with less force than she liked, but the suddenness of it was enough to make him drop the knife in his hand.
Time seemed to hang on a precipice as Takeshi elbowed the man guarding him, knocking him back a step. The guard barely straightened before Takeshi struck a hand on the side of the man's neck and sent him to the floor.
"You bitch!" Shogo shouted at her, bending to retrieve his blade on the ground.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
Shogo turned, freezing at the gun aimed at him. Takeshi rose from crouching next to the now unarmed and unconscious guard on the floor.
"Drop the knife and kick it towards her," Takeshi ordered, approaching Shogo.
Shogo wordlessly raised his arms and dropped the knife, kicking it in her direction. Akemi grabbed for the blade with shaking hands, cutting the rest of the ropes from her feet as quickly as possible. She shook the ropes from her and stood up, gripping the knife firmly. Takeshi's eyes remained on Shogo, even as the barrel of the gun pressed against the man's back.
"Now let's put your men's loyalty to the test," Takeshi murmured in a voice so low she could barely hear him. "We're going to head back out and you're going to call off your men, do you understand?"
Shogo nodded, face pale and a thin film of sweat already coating his forehead.
Akemi silently followed Takeshi and Shogo out of the warehouse, never letting go of the knife in her hand.
The marks on Akemi's wrists remained red and sore even as she sat in the safety of a car. A suited bodyguard stood outside the door, guarding her in the parking lot of the warehouse she'd been held hostage in half an hour ago.
Beyond the tinted windows of the passenger seat was Hiroshi, along with several other suited men, accompanying an old man in a kimono inside the building. It was not too surprising to find out Takeshi had dealings with the mafia, though trouble was clearly inevitable with a syndicate involved.
Shogo had kept his word, avoiding any more gunfire when they emerged outside. She was told to wait inside the car while Takeshi sorted everything out, but even now her hands remained trembling, the memory of the knife's hilt still lingering in her palm. In that moment she'd been completely ready to use it, and it terrified her. Survival instinct was one thing, but had she actually hurt someone...
The door to the driver seat opened. Takeshi said a few words to the bodyguard before stepping inside. Even without looking at him, his gaze on her was long and hard.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice carefully quiet. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," she automatically replied. "You?"
A dubious frown formed on his lips. The concern in his gaze dissipated when he noted the scratches on her wrists, transforming to something closer to anger.
"I need you to tell me if something happened," he said in a tight voice. "If he hurt you in any way or—"
"He didn't," she answered. "I just got tied to a chair. It's not a big deal."
"No, this is a big deal," he snapped, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "He could've seriously hurt you, or even killed you."
"But he didn't," she repeated, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine, really."
His chest deflated with an audible exhale. He looked out into the dashboard, his shoulders still tense. "You're right. You handled yourself pretty well. We might still be in there if not for what you did."
"Or we could be dead." She laughed, strained.
"We could," he assented with a wry smirk before frowning again. "I'm sorry to have gotten you involved."
She looked out the window. "What happened to that man?"
"Shogo? His father's dealing with him as we speak," he said, the leather seat squeaking as he slid back. "He'll live, but he'll wish he was dead. The yakuza don't take deception lightly."
"For someone trying to take over, he isn't very smart," she muttered. "But two hundred million yen? You were just as stupid."
"You think I would've just stood back and let him kill you?" His voice rose with incredulity.
"It would've been the perfect way to tie up your witness problem."
Her ears rang at the silence that followed. It proved hard to look at him, even though she'd been the one to provoke him. Her words begged for a response she would never be ready for, but she needed to hear something to rattle her, something to veer her off the dangerous, foolish path she was headed for.
The car began to feel stuffy. Her pulse pounded in her temples and her ears remained abuzz with his unresponsiveness. She unlocked the door, pushing it open.
His hand landed on her arm like a reflex. His skin was hot on hers, his fingers careful not to graze her sore wrists.
"I need some air," she whispered, still not trusting herself to look at him. She swallowed, throat dry. She needed to get away from him.
"Look at me when you talk to me," he said, his voice both beseeching and angry. His grip remained firm, not hurting her but not releasing her either.
"Please." Her voice cracked. "I can't."
She tightly closed her eyes. Her lungs were desperate for air, but showing him any more duress was just as unbearable. He couldn't see her weak and breaking. She couldn't let him win again.
He refused to let go. She wanted to scream and hit him, but her body remained still. With each second the harrowing realization settled in, creeping into her veins until only one thought echoed in her mind.
This can't be real.
His voice was half a groan. "Akemi, please—"
"I'm sorry," she stammered, gaze hard on her lap. "I shouldn't have said that. Thank you for saving me."
He finally released her, a dry laugh escaping him as her arm fell limp on her side. This was her chance to leave, but the rest of her body fell unresponsive.
He threw his head back from the corner of her eye. "You puzzle the hell out of me."
It almost drained her to look at him, but to see the resignation on his face even more so. Now it was his gaze that was withdrawn, his shoulders slack with defeat.
"Go on. I'll wait for you," he muttered, closing his eyes.
An unexplainable, overwhelming sense of guilt nagged at her. "Sorry" wanted to leave her lips, but what was there to apologize for? For being just as confused as he was?
Akemi opened the door. "I mean it. Thank you."
He grabbed her again before she could leave, and then there was nothing but his mouth on hers.
His kiss was hungry, yearning, driven by an impulse that seemed the one thing she understood amidst the chaos. She gave it back wholeheartedly, if only to alleviate some of the pain her words had caused him. A low groan escaped his throat at her response as he cupped her face with both hands, kissing her more deeply. She was breathless with a need stronger than air and she took it from him, their lips exchanging unspoken words and restless sentiments.
When she pulled away minutes later, it proved difficult to look at him again. His hands remained on her face, his thumb brushing over her flushed cheeks in a silent plea not to look away.
"There's no turning back, and I don't want to," he hoarsely said. "I've been denying myself this for the longest time, and I can't take it anymore."
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"Of course you are," he murmured with a soft chuckle. "I am too."
His hands moved to the back of her neck as he pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, taking in the musky warmth of him. Something in her chest loosened, and when his lips found hers again, she took the plunge with no hesitation.