Page 35 of Broken Blood Ties

Damn it. Yuki’s son.

Standing at his father’s height and dripping in all black leather, he’s foregone the classic suit. His jet-black hair is shaved close to his head, and two barcode tattoos sit beneath his eyes.

“Riku,” I grit out.

He moves forward, two other young men flanking either side of him. I palm both guns, drawing his eye.

“No need for those,” he hisses.

“I beg to differ.” My gaze lands back on Yuki’s lifeless body. “Ye killed Katsuro?”

Riku grins. “I did.”

“Care to explain why?” I take two steps backward, mentally mapping out my exit. My boots scrape along the cracked floor as I scan around me: rusted desks, exposed pipe in the wall, broken boxes. I could grab a chair, and perhaps it would trip someone, but mostly everything else is useless. My pulse pounds in my ears.

“He wasn’t on board with new leadership.”

I nod. “And yer father?”

“Weak.”

I can’t help the chuckle that comes out of my mouth. If there’s anything I know—knew about Yuki, it’s that he was not weak. Riku, on the other hand, is too cocky and a coward if the bastard is offing his own people for status.

“The tide is turning in the Yakuza. It’s time for new leadership. Your life. The Mob’s survival depends on how quickly you can accept that.”

“Aye.” Bile scourges my throat and I feel sick.

“Ren and Souta are still alive, and they’ve been instructed to fight for me and me only. When I tell them to throw a fight, they throw it. When I tell them to sit one out, they will. And when I tellyouto put in my men, you will.”

Hell no. This bleeding wee shite is not going to dictate things.

“And in case you’re currently thinking that you won’t be following my orders, know that my father has been growing our numbers for the past two years beyond what you’re aware of. We have triple the men, triple the influence, and triple the power. It’d be best if you comply.”

Yuki. Damn you.

“What makes ye think ye can take on the Mob?”

“Oh, Mr. O’Donnell.” He tsks. The way he says my name is a shite reminder of just how young this man is. Last I checked he was twenty-five, perhaps younger. Making him over ten years younger than me, and a stark reminder the O’Donnell name may very die with me. He continues, “I don’tthinkwe can, Iknow.”

“Why not kill me now, then?”

“It’s simple. I need you and your business. We have money that needs to be washed. You are of value to the Yakuza.” He smiles, like he’s just said something profound. This kid is going to get himself killed.

But I nod, playing along. I’m outnumbered and there’s a certain wisdom in knowing when to shut the hole in your face. I couldn’t do that to Aoife; say something stupid that gets me killed. She needs me.

An echoing creak, followed by a loud slam, rattles the broken windows on the second floor, and it’s quickly punctuated by my name.

“Kieran!” Cormac’s voice is muffled by his distance. “Kieran!”

Keeping my gun trained on Riku, I slightly angle my face toward the stairs. “Up here!” I shout.

A series of rapid consecutive thuds reverberate in the stairwell before Cormac’s voice becomes clear at the top.

“Kieran!” Gun drawn, Cormac rushes forward to stand by my side, angling himself in front of me. Eyes wide, he takes in Yuki’s body a few feet in front of us, and the pack of three Yakuza several feet on the other side.

“Stand down, Cormac. Riku and I were just having a wee chat.”

Riku bristles at the casualness of my statement. “We’ll be in touch,” he says.

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