Page 39 of Her Fearless Ronin

I chuckled dryly. “You have no idea.”

Oda nodded in understanding, his eyes locked onto mine. “So, what’s the plan now?”

I sighed, my fingers drumming on the table. “I think Valdez pushed him to call. My problem now… it’s clear Hope is on their radar, and I’m concerned that she might become collateral against her brother for… whatever he’s involved with.”

Oda’s face darkened at the mention of collateral, his jaw clenching. “That’s cold.”

“Valdez isn’t exactly known for his warmth,” I replied grimly.

Oda leaned in, his voice lowered. “So, what’s your move?”

I met his gaze with determination. “I’m going to hit one of Valdez’s strongholds. The bar across the street—it’s practically a base for his crew. I’m going in with the yakuza clan tattoo on display. Maybe rough up a couple of his guys, just enough to get back to Valdez and make him open a direct line to me.”

Oda’s lips curled into a sly grin. “That’s a dangerous game, Jiro. Even for you. I never knew you were a kamikaze.”

I smirked back at him. “Well, I’ve never been one to shy away from danger.” And for Hope Myers? I’ll brave the fires of hell itself.

The air inside the bar was thick with a mixture of smoke, sweat, and an undercurrent of tension. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights did little to mask the dinginess of the place, and the sticky floor seemed to cling to my shoes with each step. It was the kind of establishment that thrived on cheap drinks, bad decisions, and the type of clientele that preferred shadows over light.

My gaze swept over the crowd, taking in the collection of shady figures huddled in the corners, nursing their drinks. Half-naked women were strategically placed around the bar, a clear sign that this place catered to the basest desires of its patrons. I knew that the decor wasn’t the reason the gang frequented this joint. It was a haven for criminal activity—a place where secrets were traded, alliances formed, and basic desires were fulfilled by ten-dollar blow jobs.

I grimaced and glanced at Oda, who was wearing the same disgusted look as I was.

The room fell into an eerie silence as we both stepped into the middle of the room, and the hostile glares of the men seated around the bar bore into me. I kept my steps steady, my eyes locked forward, giving no indication that their attention bothered me. I had walked into much more dangerous situations than this.

I spotted Pedro at the bar, nursing a drink and leering at one of the women in a way that made my stomach turn.He noticed me, his eyes narrowing for a second before his lips curled into a smug grin. I could see the arrogance in his posture. The belief that he had the upper hand on his supposed territory.

“Pendejo,” I greeted him, my voice layered with a cool confidence that I hoped would rattle him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He raised an eyebrow, not expecting to find me in his so-called domain. “Yakuza,” he acknowledged, his tone laced with forced nonchalance.

I turned my head slightly, my eyes locking onto Oda’s for a brief moment. “Watch my back,” I muttered under my breath before sauntering over to the bar and claiming the empty stool beside Pedro.

He couldn’t resist taking a jab at me. “That’s a bold move, showing your face and flaunting your tattoos here. This isn’t yakuza territory.” His words were tinged with a mocking smirk. “Asian quarter is to the east,” he added, jerking his head in that direction to emphasize his point.

I couldn’t help but shake my head inwardly. The guy was so convinced of his own intelligence that he didn’t realize how transparent he was. He thought this was a display of power. A territorial showdown when he was at the bottom of the food chain in any Mafia.

I leaned in a bit, my expression carefully neutral. “You really think you can lay claim to any territory, Pedro? This place? This dump? I’m not here to fight over a cesspool.” I motioned to the surroundings with a dismissive wave of my hand.

Pedro’s grin faltered for a moment, his bravadoslipping. I had touched a nerve, and he was trying to regain his footing. “I have connections,” he sneered.

I leaned back, feigning casual indifference. “Connections? Valdez?” I laughed. “I’m not even sure he knows your name.”

His irritation was palpable now, the mask of arrogance slipping further. He leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. “He won’t appreciate you encroaching on his turf and bothering his man.”

I chuckled softly, a hint of derision in the sound. “You really believe he cares about what happens to you?” I shook my head, letting out a mock sigh. “You’re delusional, Pedro.”

He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “You’re just a washed-up yakuza who’s lost his edge, with far too much innocent blood on his hands to play the high and mighty.” His words were like barbs, meant to provoke, but I was determined not to let him see any reaction.

I met his gaze with an unflinching stare, refusing to show that his words had any impact on me. But his last sentence struck a nerve, a reminder of the pain and guilt that still haunted me. It was true; my past was stained with actions I could never undo.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice dripping with venom, “what does it feel like to fuck the sister of the girl you killed?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, a rush of anger and pain surging through me. But I wouldn’t let him see that he had gotten to me. I maintained my composure, myexpression unwavering.

“You seem to have a lot of information for someone who’s just a small-time thug,” I retorted, my tone dripping with icy disdain. If he wanted to play mind games, I was more than willing to engage.

I could see a flicker of irritation cross his face, a crack in his arrogant facade. Good, he was taking the bait. As he fumed, I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the sticky bar between us. My phone number stared back at him, a tangible challenge.

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