SENSEI

 

Mother and Father both sit on the edge of the bed, and I rest back on the edge of their desk as I glance out the window and try to think of a place to start. A comfortable silence filters through the room, and Father takes Mother’s hand in his knowing she’ll be going through hell right now.

I look back at them and clear my throat. “So… I suppose I should tell you what I know.”

Father nods. “This would be the best place to start.”

Nodding, my fingers dig into the edge of the desk in anger at Ishikawa and his Yakuza family. “So from all accounts over the past three weeks, a new Yakuza family has made themselves known in Chicago. They have been buying up random businesses and aiming to take over the city in an attempt to make their presence felt by using the typical Yakuza tactics. Buying the properties legally… but going about it in a not-so-pleasant way. Extorting property owners into selling by telling them if they do not, their family members may go missing. All their usual escapades.”

Father glances to Mother and nods. “This does sound like the Yakuza we are accustomed to. They do everything by the book, it looks legal on paper, but their behind-closed-door methods are… questionable.”

Raising my brow, I nod in agreement. “I met the Oyabun. Ishikawa. He seemed… ruthless, calculating.”

Mother tenses, her eyes opening wide as she stares at me and shakes her head. “He saw you? Raiden, my son. Was it him? Was it your birth father?”

Taking a deep breath, I shrug. “I am unsure. He did not seem to recognize me… and without me knowing what he looks like, I cannot be sure either…” I pause. “The fact you have never told me his name, other than Ishikawa, doesn’t help me confirm it either.”

They look at each other unspoken words moving between them as they stare into each other’s eyes.

Finally, Father turns to me with a heavy sigh. “You tell us the name of your Ishikawa, and we will tell you if it’s the same man.”

Grimacing at the fact they still want to hide my father from me, even when he’s probably on my doorstep, I stand from the desk and take a step forward in annoyance. “The Oyabun is Aiko Ishikawa,” I blurt out without hesitation.

The horrified look on my parents’ faces is all the clarification I need.

Mother bursts into instant tears, her hands flying to her face as she wails, rocking back and forth. My father wraps his arm around her for comfort. The fact it’s the start of summer is doing absolutely nothing for the frosty chill circulating through the air. I turn around hating to see my mother in such a distressed state but knowing this is, in fact, what I feared—my birth father is in town. Taking over my city. Taking over our businesses, and I have no idea what the hell he’s going to come for next. Running my hands over my head, I pace the floor wondering how on God’s green earth we’re going to combat this threat.

“He found us, Hiro… he found us,” Mother mumbles, and my chest tightens as Father looks at me, and I grimace.

“Son, are you sure he didn’t recognize you? This is very important, Raiden.”

Shrugging, I throw my hands in the air. “I simply do not know, Father. He spoke to me about being Asian, but other than that, he hardly had the time of day for me. He is either keeping it close to his chest… or, he does not know yet.”

Father exhales and holds my mother close to him as she continues to cry. “This is very bad, indeed. We have spent twenty-five years thinking we were free of his tyranny. If he has found us… only pain awaits us all, Raiden.”

A shudder runs down my spine at the thought of Ishikawa getting his hands on my family. The thought of him hurting my sisters, my mother—the things he would do to Hiro if he found him. These thoughts are unfathomable.

He cannot know they’re here.

“Do not worry, Father… as long as you are all here at the club, Aiko will not find you. I will make sure of it. Torque will make sure of it. We will protect you from him and his Yakuza family. I do not pretend to know what his end game is here, but I will not rest until he and his family are out of America… or, dealt with.” I leave the meaning of my words hanging in the air. They both know what I mean. If Ishikawa is a threat to my family, then I don’t care if I need to take him out—I will.

Biological father be damned.

He means nothing to me.

Just because we share the same blood, it does not make him a father. I’ve only known one father in my life, and Aiko Ishikawa is nothing like him. He could never be the type of father Hiro has been in my eyes.

“Thank you, son, and thank Torque for taking us in and helping us. We know he did not need to bring us into his clan—”

“Club, Mother.”

She finally manages a weak smile through her tears and nods. “Club… thank him for bringing us into your club. We will be very hospitable guests.”

Walking over to them, I bend down in front of Mother and take her hands in mine looking up into her red, swollen eyes. “I will find out what Aiko’s end game is, and we will get rid of him before anything happens. This, I promise you.”

She nods and smiles as my father reaches out squeezing my shoulder in a sign of support. “You bring honor to our family, son. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”

Standing up, I drop Mother’s hands with a nod. “I will. For now, though, make yourselves at home. But I do suggest the girls stay in their rooms after nine. The clubroom can get a little…” I grimace not knowing how to finish that sentence as Mother smiles.

“We remember. Those club girls do like a good time.” Mother smirks, and I let out a small chuckle.

“Indeed they do. So, do you need anything before I leave you for a while?”

They both shake their heads. “We’re fine. You go and do what you need to do.”

With a simple nod, I turn and walk toward the door. The handle in my hand feels cold, and I tense grabbing the knob but halt before I turn it. “I am glad you are here,” I murmur then quickly open the door and walk out to find Torque.

 

AYLA

 

The sunlight glares through the windshield making me squint as I turn my orange colored Tacoma pickup into the driveway of the garage. Glancing up, I notice the ‘Smokin’ Joe’s Garage’ signage is getting a little worn around the edges, the lettering fading slightly, and I make a mental note to look into getting that fixed.

Pulling the pickup around the back, I park it and jump out. My feet hitting the gravel with a rustling sound as I head past the garage, around the back toward the adjoined house. It’s getting close to dinner time, so I’m assuming the man I’m looking for will be in his house rather than in the garage bossing people about.

The creek of the screen door hinge annoys me as I roll my eyes while stepping through the back door. You think for a place that has oil on tap, he’d make an effort to fix the damn squeaky door.

While striding through, the smell of tobacco smacks me in the face making my anger bubble to the surface straight away as the theme song for reruns of M*A*S*H plays in the background.

My feet pound heavy on the cracked linoleum as I race into the living room to see him sitting in his recliner, feet up, cigarette dangling from his lips, his oxygen nasal cannula up his nostrils, and a fifth of Jack on the table next to him.

For fuck’s sake!

Waltzing in, I grit my teeth and slam my hand down on the kitchen counter which juts out into the living room, the old leftover takeout containers still here from last night’s dinner. He turns his head to me as he pulls another drag from his cigarette but then turns back to watch the television not seeming to care.

“Jesus Christ, Dad, when the hell are you ever going to learn?” Turning, I pick up the trash and shove it into the nearby bin liner that’s open on the floor, half-filled with trash.

He chuckles grabbing his tumbler and throws back the Jack not seeming to care. “Spanner, I don’t have much time left on this earth, kid. I may as well live it how the bloody hell I want to.”

Anger bubbles up as I throw the bag on the floor, trash flying out of the bag and scattering on the linoleum as I race into the living room and stand in front of Dad blocking his view of his favorite show.

“Hey, I’m watching that.”

I point at him, my chipped and barely there red nails getting right up in his face. “You listen, and you listen good... I haven’t been on this earth for twenty-three years to watch you fail in the last years of yours. You’re a good man, Smokin’ Joe. You raised me right. Taught me how to fight. How to protect myself. How to be a strong, independent woman. You think Mom would have liked to see this man…” I wave my hands around in anger, “… the man you’ve become?”

Dad sits up in his chair and glares at me. “Don’t ya talk about your mother, Ayla…” He takes another drag of his cigarette trying to calm himself and shakes his head while I glare at him. “She’d hate to see this shit. She was the most perfectly beautiful woman, and the man I am now is not bloody worthy of her.”

Slumping my shoulders, I let out a small sigh as I move past the coffee table and slide into the three-seater beside his recliner. “Dad, you can stop. You can’t change the fact you have emphysema, but you can delay the outcome. If only you’d try.”

He looks at me with dull eyes and shakes his head. “What’s the point, baby girl? I’m knocking on death’s door. I may as well get there sooner…” he pauses, and his eyes glisten as his mouth curves into a smile, “… then I can be with your mum.”

Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth. “But what about Heath. What about Bowie… what about me, Dad? Don’t we matter?”

His shoulders slump. “You and your brothers are better off without me, Ayla. The shop’ll be yours. You and your brothers run it far better than I ever could. You just have to remember to gain the respect you deserve, Spanner. You’re as good as the blokes… better even.”

“We are not better off without you! But thanks, Dad. Maybe you should take some leave from the shop? Heath, Bowie, and I can look after everything. You just rest. Take it easy, yeah?”

He takes a drag on his cigarette, his breath catches in his throat then he coughs loudly, cough after wracking cough. I sit here knowing there’s nothing I can do to help him.

Especially, when he won’t help himself.

He finally butts out his cigarette and turns up the oxygen level for his nasal cannula. The slow whooshing sound is like heaven to my ears as his coughing slows, and he takes deep, heavy breaths. My knuckles are white with tension—I didn’t even realize my hands were balled into tight fists. My nails dig into my skin, and it’s then I realize I need to release my fingers. So I spread them out to let go of the tension while Dad finally pulls in some much-needed air.

“You need to lay off the smokes, Dad, they’re killing you,” I murmur, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, baby girl… they are. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Damage is bloody done. So giving up ain’t gonna do me nothing but make me antsy. So why bother? Baby girl, you’re gonna have to let me go sometime.”

Smiling, I reach out for his hand taking it in mine. His wrinkled, tough skin feels like leather against mine. “Yeah, but can’t you try and hold out for a few extra months… for me?”

He groans. “Shit… fine! I’ll cut down. There, we compromised, okay?”

Letting out a small laugh, I nod. It’s not what I wanted, but if he smokes at least one less cigarette a day, I’ll be happy. “Thank you, Dad. Now, what are you having for dinner? You can’t have takeout again.”

He snorts out a groan. “Don’t even worry. Tell me about your day with the Defiance.”

Sitting back on the sofa, I smile as the image of Sensei rolls through my mind. His broad shoulders, his eyes the color of deep ochre, holding a heavy tone that seemed to reflect in the expression on his face. They’re such a marvelous mix of brown, it was intense to look into them. A raw tan and caramel, sprinkled with flecks of chocolate describes his eyes more appropriately. They burn with a fire that echoes of a life full of mystery and draw me in with just one simple look. There’s an air about him, not just in his appearance, but in the way he holds himself, in the way he speaks.

His head is shaved on one side, his scalp covered in an intricate tattoo design that follows down his neck and disappears under his shirt. The other side of his head is laden with shoulder-length dreadlocks, but they’re the well-kept kind, not the tatty ridiculous type that can make men look like hobos. His earlobes hold ear gauges adding to his grunge appearance. They’re not massive ones, just big enough to make a statement. He has a subtle nose ring through his septum, and I didn’t miss the fine facial hair which makes him look tougher if that’s possible. He screams badass, and that’s what attracted me to him instantly.

Scratch, the other biker who was there was hot, no doubt, with his long hair and not to mention that killer scar in his eyebrow. But there’s just something about Sensei which had me going from the minute I saw him. I don’t know why. I’ve always been more into the all-American bad-boy type, but there’s something about this grungy guy that’s really gotten my panties in a tangle. And I know he was in a knot over me too. I know the look guys get when they’re trying to tame their hard-on, and Sensei was definitely trying to tame his beast.

“Ayla?” Dad asks raising his brow at me.

I widen my eyes. “Sorry, what?”

He chuckles. “Where did ya go? I completely lost ya.”

“Sorry, my mind wandered off.”

Yeah, to think about a hot-as-fuck biker.

He grunts. “So, did ya sort shit out with that Sensei bloke? He sounded gruff on the phone?”

Nodding, I smile. “Yeah, he’s going to bring the bike around for spare parts. I’m not too sure when, though.”

Dad tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Tomorrow sometime. Guy called and told me, but I had a coughin’ fit and hung up on him before he gave me a time.”

Smirking, I roll my eyes. “Okay, well, at least I know he’ll be here tomorrow. But for now, you need to rest. You stay in, and me and the boys will take care of everything tomorrow.”

He takes a long breath and looks at me fondly. “I sure did raise you right, baby girl. Fuck knows how. One old fart raising three kids on his own.” He shakes his head, and I give him a smile.

“You did a great job with us, Dad. We all turned out okay.”

He chuckles. “Well, you and Heath are fine. Bowie on the other hand…”

I let out a small laugh. “Hmmm… yeah, I get your point. Hey, do you have Sensei’s number? I’d like to check what time he’ll be here tomorrow?” I ask trying to be subtle.

Dad smirks but grabs his cell. “Check the last number. That should be his.”

Checking through the call register, I grab the number and then program it into mine.

I think I can have a little fun with this.

“Right, want me to cook you some food before I go?”

He waves his hand through the air at me. “Fuck off! Go on, get outta here and stop worrying about your old man.”

I stand up with a huff. Leaving him here always puts me in two minds. He made his choice to move out of our family home. The one Heath, Bowie, he, and I shared with Mom. When Dad moved out, it was like losing Mom all over again, but I understood his motivation. He said it had nothing to do with Mom not being at the house anymore, but I don’t buy that. Though, the theory of him being here out the back of the garage so he’s closer to it, is sound. If he’s feeling under the weather at work, he doesn’t have far to go for some easy rest.

This is the best place for him to live, and if there’s an issue, we’re not far away.

Why I stayed in the house with my two foul-mothed brothers sometimes even astounds me. But we are close, and for the three of us, our family home brings memories of Mom, so we all stay. Even if it might seem weird for three grown siblings to be living together.

I point my finger at him sternly. “Fine. But Dad you cook for yourself. No more takeout. I mean it.”

“God, you’re like a freaking wife telling me what to do all the time. You do know that, right?”

Laughing, I turn and head for the door. “Good. Then maybe you’ll learn to listen to me ‘cause I wear the pants in this relationship.”

“Jesus Christ, kid, go home. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Love you, Dad,” I call out walking through the mess of a kitchen while making a mental note to clean this up tomorrow.

“Love ya, baby girl.”

The screen door creeks again on my way out as I shut it and then head toward my pickup. The garage is still open, the others are getting ready to close up for the night. I give them a brief wave, and they nod their heads with a grin.

“Have a good night, Spanner,” Vince calls out.

“Night, Vince,” I reply to one of the mechanics. He’s been here a long time and always finds time to talk to me making sure to say good morning and goodbye at the end of the day. It’s the little things, I guess.

Sliding into my pickup, I start it and head for home where hopefully it’s a little cleaner than Dad’s place. But living with two men, you can never really tell what state it will be in. Fingers crossed.