Page 51 of Descent

“I’m going to call it what it was. Luck.” Ero flops down on his mat, sprawling.

“Not to be discounted, ever. At least according to my grandmother and her cat.”

“Speaking of luck…did you—?” I start the kettle for tea, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes. The agreement went through. Mykumichodoes not want to make an enemy of Ananke. He will comply.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ero grumbles, packing up some of his clothes.

“Smart man,” Haru quips, chopping vegetables. “What I will share is this: be assured that the intel you helped me gather will secure my clan’s holdings and secure a better, safer Japan.”

“So not an ally, but not an enemy either,” I summarize, watching his eyes for a clue.

“More or less. Now relax, drink, and eat. Your flight leaves early tomorrow.”

Our extended stayin Japan felt like a breath of fresh air.

Months of constant flying, driving, fighting, fucking, and partying all over Asia drained me. Seeing an old friend shook some things loose. Mostly good things, if a little confusing. It helped me remember a part of who I am, or was.

Focusing on that self-control and discipline did wonders for my wayward heart.

By the time we make it to the Malay Archipelago, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, months have passed since this all started. Ero and I have found our groove. Japan just upped the ante.

We’ve given ourselves over to the routine. It’s all too easy to fall back into after a break.

Travel. Set up shop. Scout. Infiltrate.

Then it’s nonstop running, battling, and the aftermath lost in each other’s arms.

Indonesia finds us scuba diving into the wreck of a sunken ship, locating remnants of a horde of forgotten gold. The exchange buys loyalty, silence, and favors from some of the most notorious preman gangs. All to be paid forward to another group in the future.

That’s Ananke’s sweet spot. Collecting debts and trading favors.

New Zealand leads us on a wild goose chase trying to hunt down a fleeing politician, guilty of massive embezzlements. Just another chess move for Ananke.

Skiing down slopes after an old bodyguard on the South Island gets us a lead on his location. We hack through a rainforest, Jeeping across rivers and up rocky terrain. Eventually we track him down. We record his confession. Then we let him go.

Orders. Never an explanation.

Simple enough when there’s no lives to take.

But it’s Buenos Aires that sees us returning to our roots. Cold-blooded killers.

Ero’s jet black hair shines in the torch light. Slicked back, he looks debonair, his tuxedo cutting lines across his body, complimenting every asset to perfection. Shoulders. A trim waist and an ass that begs me to spank it.

Just like my shimmering black dress showcases my curves and my back. We’re a match made in Hades.

I take his arm, swaying up the steps of the mansion.

Inside, we case the place, checking off guard positions against our intel. Escape routes. Important dignitaries and persons of interest. Confirming their presence is one of several side tasks Ananke added at the last minute.

“She never mentioned that she’d be here.” Ero hisses under his breath, slipping an arm around my waist. “Three o’clock.”

The maneuver looks natural, feels natural, even if it makes my temperature rise a few degrees to have him touch my lower back. He picks another explosive from the lining of my dress as he does, adhering it to the veranda window. Diversion set.

“Spying on us, or up to her own schemes?” I ponder, draping my arms over his neck, toying with his collar.

“I’m sure she was invited. There’s probably a whole mailing-list club for elite, mask-wearing organization events.”

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