Page 54 of Submit
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
“Well, this is quite a mess we have here.” Daniel says as he crosses the red and white grassy lot behind Kelly’s, running his hand through his sandy blonde hair and puffing out his cheeks on a big sigh.
“Thanks for coming man.” I say, reaching my hand out and pulling him in for a one-armed bro hug. “I didn’t really plan what I was going to do with the body before I ummm, did this.”
“No worries. I’ve got a container leaving for Japan in the morning. He’ll be in it, and the crew in Tokyo will be awaiting it.”
“I knew something wasn’t legit with them. Damn. Good luck for me huh?” I say on a chuckle, looking down at the mess of what’s left of Tyler Richmond on the ground.
“Mr. Kinochi said to tell you…let me get this right…kazoku wa kazoku wa taisetsu ni shi masu.”
“Family takes care of family.” I say, translating the message so Daniel understands what he just told me, and he gives me a big shit eating grin.
“Kazoku.”
“Kazoku.” I repeat. “Family.”
“Where’s Millie?” He asks, looking down at the body, giving it a swift kick then glancing up at me, arching his brow.
“Inside with Max.”
“Good. Go to her. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. I brought some help.”
At his words, two very large, Asian, muscle-bound men approach from around the corner of the building with tools and thick, black, contractor garbage bags. They’re both covered head to toe, from what I can see, in full color, traditional, Japanese tattoos.
“Kazoku?” I ask them, and the bigger of the two nods silently and immediately gets to work lifting up Tyler by the arms while the other pulls out a hand saw and kneels next to the corpse. “Okay, yeah, I’m out now.” I laugh. “You guys enjoy.”
Slapping Daniel on the back with a quick “Thanks” I head inside, leaving them to their work that I’m sure they’ve done plenty of times before. “Yakuza?” I turn around asking him, and he gives me a huge smile then shoos me inside.
I’m in bed with the Yakuza. Excellent.
There’s no sign of what’s transpired inside. No one is screaming or making a fuss. There’s no hushed speaking of a murder just outside, and everything has already gone back to normal. The door to the playroom I busted down has already been replaced, and it’s business as usual as I make my way down the main hall looking for my bunny.
People don’t move out of my way, and they don’t look at me any differently, even with blood on my hands, clothes and shoes. They simply ignore it all. In a place like this, I’m pretty positive I’m not the only killer, and that which should be alarming is strangely comforting.
Max isn’t behind the bar, only the young assistant who’s usually with him is, so he must be somewhere with Mille. Turning down the secondary hallway, the one that leads to more playrooms, I look in the viewing windows of each one until I find her in the last one at the end.
My fingers squeak on the glass as I look in, seeing her laying down on her back on the large bed, and Max leaning over her. He has surgical gloves on and a basin on the mattress next to her. Slowly he cleans her wounds as she cries into her hands, hiding her face from anyone who would be watching. No one is though, besides me, they all know better.
The door creaks quietly as I open it just enough to slip into the room, not wanting to startle her, but Max sees me and shakes his head with a disapproving look.
“Bad?” I mouth to him silently, and he nods slowly.
Fuck.
I see the rag in his hands as he dips it into the bowl of soapy water and brings it back out, the liquid pouring off it is bright red from the amount of blood from her wounds. It makes my stomach churn, and I feel queasy, not from the sight of blood, obviously I’m okay with that, but that it’s her blood.
I know what he did to cause her that pain, and I can’t imagine how she’s going to process it during her healing. I want to reach out and touch her, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. With a drop of my head, I turn to leave, prepared to walk away until the thought of her being in pain from my touch subsides. But I don’t get more than a step away when she whispers my name.
“Adrian.”
It’s so quiet, I’m not sure if I really heard it, or if it’s my imagination, but looking back over my shoulder and seeing her looking right at me, I know it’s real.
