Page 43 of Bound by Blood

Tears filled Laney’s eyes and spilled over her cheeks. Not for herself. She’d known this end was coming for as long as she could remember. She had too much Dana in her to survive a Yakuza upbringing. She knew eventually she would fuck up and end up like her first love. No. She cried for Jin. Because Jin was the exact same age as Laney had been when the Master took her and began twisting her into the thing she was now.

Her father’s eyes filled with disgust when he saw her tears and he stood, pushing away from her. “Finish her,” he said coldly. “Get rid of my weakness.”

***

Had he arrived in time? It had taken him longer than he had hoped to track Laney’s whereabouts and then he’d had to arrange transport to Japan. Not an easy country to get into when you had as many mob connections as he did. It killed him that his woman was alone, possibly in grave danger. That she hadn’t waited for him, trusted him to help her take care of whatever drew her back to Japan.

Now he and his men were finally there, at the Master’s compound. He had a source on the inside that had given them all the information they needed. He knew they outgunned the Yakuza, which wasn’t difficult given Japan’s heavy gun laws. He’d brought enough people to almost equal the strength within the Master’s compound. He also had the element of surprise.

Unfortunately, he still had no idea who Jin was and his people were under strict orders not to kill a Jin. Not an order they were happy with considering he couldn't give them more information than that. His guy on the inside hadn’t known a Jin either. He’d been brought in to identify the photos of Dimitri. Which he’d unfortunately done a little too accurately before understanding what identifying the pictures correctly would do to Laney. It was his call to Boris that had tipped Boris off to Laney’s whereabouts. He’d become suspicious when he’d had to identify the body of the brother of one of the top Bratva.

Boris had immediately arranged transport for himself and a dozen men. He’d also arranged a few more that were loyal to meet him in Osaka. A call to Sitnikov had also given him reinforcements in the form of two of Boris’ former enforcers and an extremely grumpy, jet-lagged Mack Hudson.

He watched grimly as Hudson put his rifle together with militaristic precision. “What the fuck did you say you did for the marines?” In another life, Mack had apparently been a highly skilled sniper. News to Boris.

“Didn’t say,” Hudson grunted, knocking a lock of dirty blond hair from his face. He lifted binoculars to his bloodshot eyes and scanned the Yakuza stronghold. “Need to get on top of that building for the best shot,” he said, handing Boris the binoculars and pointing.

Boris took them and nodded. “We will get you up and then you are on your own. Don’t fucking shoot my people.”

He grunted back. “Think I can tell Russian meat from Japanese asshole.”

Boris thought about pounding Hudson, but decided he better not. Hudson came close to him in height and weight and the guy had a chip on his shoulder that screamed suicidal tendencies. Best leave that one alone. At least until after he helped them rescue Laney. Then all holds were off on kicking his disgusting, racist ass.

“Time to get into position,” Boris growled, nodding toward his waiting men. “Let’s go get my woman.”

***

They were playing with her. Giving her a chance to climb painfully to her feet, take a few swipes at the idiot that came at her first and then they would rush her and take her down. Then they would back off, give her time to recover. They slapped, punched and kicked her. They hit her in the places that hurt most, but they didn’t use weapons. Though she was a mass of bruises, she didn’t think anything was broken. Yet.

It was only a matter of time. She knew the Master wanted this to end in her death. They would become progressively rougher until there was nothing of her left. She had seen these beatings before. Failure was unacceptable. And disloyalty was worse.

“Stand up, bitch!” Someone snarled from behind her, kicking her thigh hard enough to knock her forward. Rain pelted her, plastering her cargo pants and white T-shirt against her body. She knew her shirt was becoming muddy and transparent, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

Laney pulled herself into a crouch only to get kicked in the stomach. She bit back a scream as she was flung back into someone’s legs. Whoever had been behind her was quick to aim a kick at her head, breaking the skin over her eye. Laney curled in a ball and rolled painfully away before he could kick her in the head again. She knew it was useless. There were at least half a dozen of them and only one of her. They were all skilled fighters, and though she was one of the clan’s best, she couldn’t match their numbers.

“I said, stand up!” the man snarled again, gripping Laney’s ponytail and dragging her to her feet.

She was unable to hold back a shriek of pain as he stretched her body, forcing her to feel every hit they had meted out over the past ten minutes. Her vision blurred as blood mixed with rain and dripped steadily from her head wound into her eyes. She blinked until her eyes were clear and swung her elbow back, connecting with his jaw. She knew the hit was clumsy, but she was determined to cause a little pain of her own. He bellowed and let go of her hair to clutch at his face.

Laney stumbled away from them, reaching out with slippery hands for the stone wall that overlooked the cliff. She looked up, panting as the men advanced. Toward the great hall she could see the Master watching them. He stood with his sword, ready to finish her off when his assassins and soldiers were finished beating his daughter. She raised her chin, spun on her heel and kicked the man nearest to her in the face, pleased when she heard the crunch of bone and his accompanying scream.

Three men rushed her at once. She went down under their savage assault, knowing she would not rise again. A shot rang out, deafening her. She gasped and jerked in terror, thinking perhaps they had shot her. But then she saw the body of a fellow Yakuza assassin hit the stones near her and realized he had been shot in the head.

The remaining men shouted and looked around at each other in panic as more shots rang out. More bodies dropped onto the mud and stones around Laney, who watched in shock and pain. Pandemonium broke loose as men screamed, shouted and ran. She heard fighting all around her. No one paid attention to her anymore.

Laney reached out and pulled herself toward the wall. The same wall that her mother had thrown herself over eleven years earlier. Laney left a trail of bloody handprints on the wall as she tried to stand. She was so weak, she just wanted to lay in the mud and rain and close her eyes.

“Jin,” she whispered to herself. “Get to Jin.”

A shout brought her head snapping up.

“Umri ty ublyudki!”

Someone was yelling ‘die you fuckers’ in Russian. Hope filled her chest. If some idiot was shouting in crass Russian, perhaps her particular Russian Godzilla was here. She pushed away from the wall and tried to run toward the buildings, praying she wouldn’t get shot in the head on her way to the nursery. She barely made it ten steps before her beaten, bruised body refused to hold her up any longer and she collapsed with a moan.

Laney forced herself to crawl forward, gripping the slippery, rain-soaked stone pathway and grass poking between with desperate fingers. She would reach her daughter if it killed her.

“Mama!” a panicked child’s voice reached her ears.

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