Oshun burrowed into the warmth enveloping her. She didn't need to be conscious to know she was exactly where she wanted to be, her body naked and intertwined with Masaki’s.

It was amazing the difference a day made. Yesterday, and every day before that, she’d wondered if they could trek beyond their obvious issues and find a way to be together despite the difficulties they faced. This morning, she knew there was only one answer to that question.

Yes.

She loved Masaki. That wasn’t a new development either. He’d owned her body and soul from the first. The only barrier to that was the life she led. She didn’t want to risk her world infringing upon his. But now, there was something freeing about the truth. It exposed their secrets and weaknesses, giving them nothing left to hide.

The threat wasn’t over, not by a long shot. But knowing she would face this threat with him comforted her deep in the essence of her being.

She was about to snuggle deeper into his embrace when she heard the landline ring a single time and then fall silent again. She eased herself out of the bed, making certain not to disturb the sleeping man next to her.

She grabbed her sweatpants and crop top and waited until she’d dialed her father’s burner, before quickly pulling her clothes on.

“What’s wrong?”

The single ringing of the landline was their code. It was his way of alerting her to trouble. They’d worked out that system when she was a kid. If he ever needed her to be aware and ready to move, he dialed the landline wherever she was, and found a subsequent way to send her the actual message he intended her to have.

“Someone tried to hit us last night,” her father stated. His voice rough and direct, he pulled no punches when delivering the information. Her father wasn’t a man of many words, and that proved to be an attribute in their line of work. You always knew what Zion Sampson meant, because he spoke plainly.

“The Council?”

“No, the decoy house in Baldwin,” he answered.

“Is Mrs. Yamaguchi all right?”

“Shaken up. When I got word of the hit, I moved her to another location quickly.”

“This isn’t good. Masaki is going to lose his shit over this,” she responded. She rubbed her temple trying to stave off the headache she could feel building behind her eyes.

“No, it isn’t good,” he added. “And not just for the obvious reasons.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Daddy?”

“Outside of you and Masaki, I only gave that information to one other person, Oshun, and we both know who that is. Unless he's laying bloody in a ditch after having that info forcibly pulled from him, someone showing up to hit that specific location could only mean one thing.”

“We’ve found the person behind this,” Oshun answered. She rubbed the back of her neck as tension tightened the muscles there. “There’s also another problem, Daddy. This person is trying to flush him out,” she continued. “His mother has no connection to his business. The only reason he’d want to hurt her is to bring Masaki out of hiding.”

“Agreed,” Zion answered. “What do you want to do about it?”

If their enemies had come for her one living parent, there would be no question how she'd handle things. She would strike back hard. But, this was Masaki’s mother. Although she was certain of what his answer would be, Oshun couldn’t make that decision for him.

“Are you going to tell him who we suspect is behind this, Oshun?”

Oshun gripped the phone tighter as a knot formed in her stomach. She’d promised Masaki no more secrets, but would full disclosure be the best plan of action here? Telling him about the attack was one thing. However, giving him a target, someone to blame for the threat against his mother, was another matter.

This wasn’t some random soldier in Masaki’s army that an attempt had been made on. This was his mother. Masaki had a temper that sometimes made him reckless. Oshun wasn’t certain informing him of her findings would help or hurt the outcome of this fucked up situation.

“I don’t think there's a need for detail right now,” Oshun answered. “We’ll keep this between you and me for now.”

Decision made, she forced herself not to worry about the consequences, and moved on with the conversation. “Daddy, make certain you take care of yourself. Get off the streets. If this son of a bitch comes for you, I’m gonna wage war against motherfuckers in these streets, and it’s gonna be bloody.”

“You know Zion is the original gangster, love. These young ones out here ain’t got nothing for me. You tell Masaki I’ll keep his mother safe as promised. I’ll contact you when we get settled in the next spot. Stay safe, baby girl. Keep your eyes open and your Glock ready.”

“Always, Daddy. Always.”

She ended the call, still staring at the phone in her hand. “Apparently shit is about to get real.”

She returned to Masaki’s room in time to see him turning over in his sleep, reaching out for her. She watched him search for her for a few moments more, wanting him to enjoy the peace brought by last night’s pleasure and subsequent sleep.

All too soon, he lifted his head from the pillow, ink black strands standing in multiple directions at once, the look of a man who had earned the tranquility good sleep brought.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured as he dropped his head back to the stack of pillows beneath him. She walked over to him slowly, sat next to him, and ran her fingers slowly through his hair. A glance from her was all it took for concern to bleed into his features, wiping away the contentment that had shone in his eyes only moments ago. “What’s wrong?”

She watched quietly as he pulled up in the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and fixing his gaze on her again. “Oshun, what’s wrong?”

“They’re trying to flush you out, Masaki.”

She could see him calculating the unspoken pieces of her message. She knew the exact moment he’d connected all the dots when he closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and quietly asked, “Did she survive?”

“Yes,” Oshun answered, and watched as he released the breath he was holding in a rush, sucking in gulps of air as a desperate mixture of fear, relief, and anger seemed to pour over him. “She’s fine, Mas. Daddy took care of her. He called me as soon as it was safe.”

“Where is she?”

She raised a hand to his face, her thumb gently stroking the side of his jaw, attempting to sooth the tense muscle ticking beneath it. He was angry, rightfully so. His body tensed with each breath, his muscles instinctively flexing, visibly preparing for the unseen battle.

“Masaki, listen to me,” she said in a soothing voice. “They are trying to scare you into rushing back. But, we’re smarter than that.”

He nodded as she spoke, his body language slowly relaxing with her words. He focused on her face, allowing her gaze to pull him out of the steely rage bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin.

“Okay,” he answered. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to use my crew to help us set a trap,” she responded.

With a pinched brow and eyes narrowed into slits, his skepticism was obvious. He folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly to the side.

“I thought we couldn’t trust either of our crews right now, Oshun?”

“I’m not talking about the crew I run with now. When you’re in this life, you’ve gotta have an old-school crew you can always run back to when all else fails. I have a few people I can trust that aren’t attached to my Council. But I can promise you, you’re not going to like it.”

He shook his head and pursed his lips. His displeasure evident in the silent communication. “An attempt was made on my mother’s life, Oshun. There’s not much about the situation to like anyhow.”

He was correct, this situation had already gone to shit when they were ambushed at the diner. The healing bullet wound in her side was proof that circumstances were getting worse by the minute.

They were in hiding. And now the enemy had disregarded the unspoken rule of leaving family out of the street war. Well, if the villain hiding in the wings could break the rules, so could she and Masaki.

“If our mystery pursuer wants to play dirty. I say we play dirtier.” She smiled as she pulled her burner cell from her pocket, and dialed a number from memory.

The phone rang twice on the other end before the call connected and she heard a familiar female voice say, “Hello?”

“I need a favor,” Oshun answered.

“It’s been how many years since I’ve heard from you, and that’s how you greet me?”

“I know,” Oshun returned. “But the last time we linked up, you told me to lose your number if I was determined to walk my path.”

“Well, apparently, you didn’t listen to me,” the familiar voice answered. “Because, you’re still calling me, and the word on the streets is that you’re still ridin’ dirty. What do you want?”

Oshun smiled at Masaki as she spoke into the phone and answered, “A friend. I need a friend.”