The Devil Inside by Mia Amano Page B

room until the drugs were out of his system and he’d gone through withdrawal.
    He’d screamed and begged, banging on the door, crying, pleading. I eventually let him out to wash off the sweat and piss and vomit. He was starving. I fed him, clothed him, changed his fucking sheets. I warned him I would shoot him if he left the house.
    I watched over him for a week, never leaving the apartment. Some of the junior Kuroda guys came and went at my request, bringing us food and cigarettes.  
    Slowly, the old Masa came back.  
    I told him I would kill him if he went back to that shit again. I was dead serious. Better to die a quick death than fade away as a junkie.
    As far as I know, Masa never touched the gear again. He joined the Kuroda-kai and hasn’t looked back.
    I blink, jolted back into the present as Masa turns around. His eyes go wide. I nod and he walks over to me, waving his men away. They’re big, intimidating guys, all Japanese, staring at me with hard, suspicious eyes.  
    Masa reaches my side. No bow this time, but he looks apologetic. He speaks in Japanese. “Sorry for the short notice. The order came from Tokyo. Literally.” He utters the last word dryly. I don’t know what he means by that. “Thanks for coming.”
    I nod, not saying a word. Masa’s left eye twitches. It’s an old tic he’s never been able to shake. It’s worse when he’s uneasy. He gestures towards the range. Balls fly out across the green, some striking the net at the far end. On the floors below us, golfers are practicing their swings.  
    “I’ve been working on my game. You play?”
    “No.” I’ve never picked up a golf club in my life. “Get to the point, Masa. I’ve got work to do.”
    “Sorry.” The place is noisy, the sound of golf balls being hit peppering the air. It’s a good place to meet. No-one will hear our conversation. Masa leans in close. His voice drops to a low murmur.  
    “That trouble you had with Lucini’s boys wasn’t an accident.”
    I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Masa to elaborate.
    “They’re hitting our businesses all over town. They’re agitating us for some reason, trying to expand their turf.”
    “Why now?” I keep my expression blank as Masa’s small entourage checks me out. I know what they’re thinking. They’re wondering who I am, why I’m so tight with their boss. I recognize one of the men from Black Rose. He stares back at me with flat eyes. I glare back, and after a pause, he looks away.
    “There’s a changing of the guard happening. Old man Lucini is doing poorly. Rumours are Lucini’s son has taken over most of the business, and he’s young blood. Ambitious and aggressive. They don’t like the fact that we’ve expanded under right under their noses.”
    “Shouldn’t matter to them. Most of Kuroda’s operations here are partly or completely legit.”
    Masa nods. “True. But they see us doing well, making money, and now we’ve expanded, in partnership with the Koreans and the Chinese. Business isn’t good for the old-fashioned racketeer right now. They feel threatened. They want us out.”
    I watch Masa’s face carefully as I turn the facts over in my head. Something doesn’t add up. “So what do you need me for?”
    “The old man’s son has done something unforgivable. Remember that night you told me to sort out those thugs who had threatened the sushi bar?”
    I nod, watching from the shadows as one of Masa’s underlings takes a sudden interest in a golf club, lifting it out of its bag. He takes a mock swing. I shoot him a disapproving stare.
    These boys, once they come to America, some of them lose discipline.  
    Masa continues. “We’ve had reports of this kind of thing happening for a while now. Because you cut off that guy’s finger, I thought things might get ugly. I went to Goto-san for advice.”
    I raise my eyebrows. Kenichi Goto is the head of the Kuroda Group in LA. For Masa to seek his advice means this shit with the Lucini family has