Deadly Game: Tokyo Nights, #1

By Naomi Aoki

Get in. Get proof. Get out alive. Easy, right?

 

All Hisato Shibata had ever wanted to be was a police officer, to work his way through the ranks like his father had. Wanted to be known as an officer who upheld the oaths he'd sworn and keep the streets of Tokyo free of men like Tatsuo Ogawa—Shinjuku Ward boss for the Yamashita Organisation. Going undercover had never been a part of his plans, but when his superiors put the assignment in front of him, he dutifully agreed.

 

But in getting close to Ogawa, Hisato learns some uncomfortable truths about himself. Add in his growing attraction to Ogawa and the two men close to him, getting out alive is the least of his worries.

 

Deadly Game is the first book in the Tokyo Nights Trilogy that features an undercover cop whose assignment goes wrong in all the best ways, a genderqueer host who will do whatever is needed to protect his lovers, a yakuza ward boss with his eyes on the top prize and his best friend who is hesitant trust the new member of their relationship. Add in a gang conflict and things are bound to get a little...bloody.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NaomiAoki
• Release date: Nov 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393935599

Naomi Aoki

Naomi is a Kiwi born girl who spends a lot of time laughing at the antics of her kids who are all growing up way too fast, and trying to convince the cat that her lap isn't always a suitable bed. She alos loves to spend time listening to music, watching anime, C-Dramas, and disappearing into worlds created by other author. To keep up to date the latest news, sneak peeks at upcoming WIPs, and exclusive excerpts make sure to follow her on all the socials... https://linktr.ee/naomiaoki_mandygreenwood

Book preview

Prologue

FUCK HE LOVED NIGHTS like these, hunting down his prey through dark alleys that weaved their way between buildings that towered over the busy streets of Tokyo bathed in neon. The noise from nearby bars, clubs and ramen joints didn’t drift this far letting him enjoy the sound of panicked footsteps as his prey as they raced ahead of him. His prey grew tired, feet stumbling on the uneven ground, knocking over bins and strewing their contents across the alley hoping to slow him down. But it wouldn’t work, their desperation only added to the thrill of the hunt. He wanted to tip back his head and laugh, hands flexing in eager anticipation of what was to come.

No one ever escaped him.

Ever.

He could never allow it.

A cat and mouse game he’d played many a time on the streets of Tokyo and this one was about to reach its satisfying conclusion. His prey slowed again their footsteps no longer echoed off the alley walls as though they’d sought refuge in the shadows. But the shadows were his world and he’d soon find his prey. He always did. The scent of their fear unmistakable, tantalising and it never escaped his nose. He paused, cocked his head and listened for the ragged panicked gasps that gave his prey away. Grinned and licked his lips wondering if his prey would try to make a break for it now that his footsteps too had stopped.

And his prey didn’t disappoint.

He laughed at the sound of scrabbling fingers on concrete as his prey tried desperately to get to their feet, desperate to harness that last ounce of strength to make one last bid to escape him. And it was just as he’d planned, his prey running into the wall of muscle approaching from the other end of the alley. Hunting his prey was always exhilarating, but never hunted alone.

You’re one stupid cop, he spat, voice booming through the alley as he strode toward his prey. Did you really believe that I’d let you escape? Stared down at the undercover cop who’d attempted to infiltrate his businesses, forced to kneel in front of him. Stupider still if you thought I came here alone.

And Tokyo nights were never truly dark, the flickering lights of businesses and apartments that overlooked the alley spilled over the cop dragged from the shadows. Fear dripped from their lips in the form of curses as they begged for their life. A pitiful being who’d been so full of bravado only hours before now quaked at his feet in a pool of—he wrinkled his nose—urine. But then their chrysanthemum badge had only hidden their cowardice while believing it would save them even as they travelled deep into his part of the organisation hunting for the darkest of his secrets. Yet, they’d barely scratched the surface of the illegal businesses he ran before getting cocky and revealing themselves.

And no one lived if they got to close to matters, they had no business knowing.

Especially not cops.

He ran his hand along their jaw and tipped their head back and leered at them. It’s such a shame I have to kill you- gripping their chin tight as they tried to wrest it out of his grasp -when you’re such a pretty thing... could fetch me a price, but your former occupation makes that too damn risky. And your bosses aren’t very smart either, wasting your life like this because you really aren’t the right one to try and steal my secrets by slipping into my bed.

Letting go, he took a step back as they spat. He so enjoyed the thrill of the chase; capturing his prey and toying with it for a while before killing it. And the police kept handing him nice juicy specimens too, not like the thugs who could barely run a block before he caught them. Three times in the last two years, the police had tried to infiltrate his part of the organisation and to take him down. Three times they’d failed.

This cop was failure number four.

Maybe he should consider sending the Police a thank you gift because with every attempt they made, his prestige grew and the power he wielded strengthened. His rise through the organisation’s ranks was already meteoric, achieving a position usually held by men almost twice his age and it wouldn’t be long before he obtained his goal. He’d control it all and soon. And it wouldn’t surprise him if the sudden interest in is businesses by the police had been driven by those higher in the organisation, men who feared his rise and were desperate to stop him.

Fuck, I’d love to play with you some more...draw this whole thing out for until you’re no longer begging me to let you live, but to kill you instead. He heaved a sigh. However, I’m on a tight schedule tonight...lucky for you, I guess. And he wanted to be happily ensconced in his club, alibi in place for when this cop’s handlers finally realised, they were missing.

He needed to decide how to end this, and fast. Using the 9mm pistol tucked beneath his suit jacket would make the death quick, but in an alley silent except for the cops panicked gasps and the sniggering of the men who’d accompanied him, it’d echo loudly. One never knew who might be wandering past and report the incident to the police. His blade would be quieter, though messier and yet the scent of blood mingling with the cop’s fear would be more satisfying than a single bullet to the brain.

Stepping back toward the cop, his expensive shoes tapped out an ominous beat as the cop’s fear engulfed him. An overwhelming pressure he welcomed like an old friend and breathed in deep. He stood behind the cop, grabbed their hair and yanked their head back. Neck stretched, he marvelled at the expanse of flesh waiting for him to colour it red. He pulled out his favourite blade and flicked it open, cold steel glinting in the snatches of light falling from the buildings towering over the alley and pressed it to the cop’s throat, letting the sharp edge dig into their skin.

If only your bosses were capable of realising how futile their attempts are- watching as blood beaded along the blood as he pressed harder -but we both know it isn’t going to happen. So, it’s a good thing I’m happy to kill every cop they send my way. Every. Single. One. Will be rooted out.

Your luck won’t hold out forever. You will be brought to justice and Tokyo’s streets will be a little safer for it.

He sniggered at the cop’s last futile attempt at bravado. Pressed the blade harder and dragged it across their throat, their final scream disappearing into a gurgle. Releasing his grip on their hair, he let the barely living body fall to the ground and wiped their blood off his blade.

They won’t ever catch me.

He pocketed his blade and walked out of the alley humming to himself while wondering how long it’d be before the police sent him another toy to play with.

And he couldn’t wait.

Chapter One

HISATO SAT AT THE BAR and nursed the glass of whiskey the bartender had poured for him an hour ago while watching businessmen from the nearby office buildings slowly filter in. He didn’t hide his appraisal of them, suited men had always been his weakness, all that stuffy correctness just waiting to be torn away. Feigned interest that was returned by many, leaving him in no doubt that offers of free drinks and more would be coming his way by the end of the night. And if his purpose for being here was pleasure, Hisato wouldn’t have hesitated to accept.

But hooking up wasn’t on tonight’s agenda, and he wouldn’t have come to place like this either. The bar’s patrons wore far too many clothes and the soft jazz filling the place a far cry from the heavy bass line Hisato preferred. He sighed trying not to think of the missed opportunities his staking out this place on a Friday night was costing him. But he couldn’t afford to miss another chance at placing himself in front of his assigned target and it had better payoff one way or another. Not that he expected to reel his target in that easily, the man no fish despite the huge price on his head. No, the man was more like a predatory beast and if Hisato was to have any chance at taking the man down, he needed to be patient.

And fuck he hoped this worked.

He knocked back the last of his whiskey and signalled to the bartender to bring him another. Predatory beast was one way to describe his target, cold hearted demon—a monster of the worst kind—and a cop killer were more apt. At least with a beast you had a chance of taming them, controlling them. His target, Tatsuo Ogawa—Shinjuku Ward Boss for the Yamashita Organisation—would never be tamed, not with the mutilated bodies he left behind. Killing was a sport to Ogawa; a competition to get the highest total and to achieve it in the most creative fashion.

And Hisato had seen the bodies or often what little remained of them.

The police all knew who’d committed the murders, heard the whispers on the streets of Shinjuku and Kabukicho confirming it, yet they couldn’t pin a single on the man. Rumours didn’t count as evidence and Ogawa was too clever to leave anything behind that would tie him to the scene. Hisato didn’t know if those who whispered in the shadows were too afraid of Ogawa to testify against him or were strangely loyal to him. Or it could be a little of both. But unable to stop him, the police could only watch as Ogawa rose in the ranks of the Yamashita and turned the streets of Shinjuku into rivers of blood. And those rivers had now spread into other Tokyo wards with murders in Shibuya, Ebisu and Ginza also attributed to him. It wasn’t that the Police hadn’t tried to apprehend him. Organised Crime Units from Shinjuku, Shibuya and the Tokyo Metro had all sent cops undercover in the Yamashita Organisation targeting Ogawa’s interests in the past two years.

Four cops. Four Deaths.

And now Hisato had been tasked with the job of bringing Ogawa to justice.

He thanked the bartender and picked up the glass, hands trembling as he realised what taking this job on meant. Undercover work always carried an element of risk, Hisato had seen the battered bodies of cops pulled from assignments when their cover was blown and yet he’d never considered it a possibility for him. Never considered it a part of his plans when he’d graduated the academy, not when Hisato wanted to rise through the ranks like his father. But when his superiors made the request of him, Hisato couldn’t say no. Maybe he should have. Infiltrating the Yamashita—especially those areas controlled by Ogawa—didn’t end in beatings or hurried extractions. His death sentence signed the moment Hisato had said yes to the assignment and even if he made it out alive, Ogawa locked behind bars, a price would forever rest on his head.

Taking a deep breath and settling his nerves, Hisato turned his attention to the men already drinking in the bar. Noted the exits, which booths were empty and the tables where other cops sat trying to blend in with the high-end crowd. They were his back up for tonight, and only tonight, reporting back to his superiors whether he’d been successful in making contact with Ogawa. From here on in, Hisato was on his own asides from the mandatory weekly call to his handler.

He already had a foot in the door, landing an office position at one of the Yamashita’s loan companies where Ogawa was listed as the CEO. It wasn’t uncommon for the yakuza to operate legal business alongside their illegal ventures, both were profitable. Hisato wasn’t naïve enough to believe that everything that happened at the loan company was legal, too many backrooms, offices and files that he couldn’t access, but he had plans to change that. First though he needed to earn the trust of those above him; make them believe he was desperate for cash and that the promises of more would come in exchange for getting his hands dirty. Hisato didn’t doubt that it went a lot further than simply roughing up late payers.

And he must have gained some trust from his new colleagues, his careful questioning around the office had gotten him this tip. Learned Ogawa visited this bar before hitting up other more exclusive and harder to access venues. But he only had one chance to catch Ogawa’s attention without triggering suspicion and that was hard to do when being here made Hisato uncomfortable. It really was to flashy and sedate for his tastes. Neon lights bathed the velour covered booths near the small dancefloor and created darkened corners where who knew what happened. Hisato snorted, he knew exactly what happened in the shadows, partaken in a few enthusiastic fumblings and slaked his lust with others just as desperate and willing...but he’d rather it be in a place where the music drowned out their voices.

Memories that didn’t stir arousal in his veins but instead stoked the cold fear running through them. This was why he’d been chosen for this assignment over others more experienced and more willing to dirty their hands to sell a cover. His superiors realising too late for the last undercover cop that she might not have been the choice to bait a honey trap with and her body had been discovered a month or so back in an alley not far from where Hisato now sat, throat slit. Hisato, however, might be closer to Ogawa’s type.

Lucky for him. Or not. It increased the danger of the assignment tenfold.

He must have been crazy to accept it, to dangle himself in front of Ogawa like piece of prime wagyu beef all in attempt to infiltrate the man’s inner circle. And he needed to do it without winding up dead.

There’s no way I’m getting out of this assignment alive.

Fuck, he wished Ogawa would hurry up, resisting the urge to tap his foot on the stool, wanting nothing more than to return home and get of these clothes. The too tight suit might have been like those worn by other men snapped in Ogawa’s presence, but it wasn’t Hisato’s preferred choice. A suit, yes, but if given a choice he’d have gone with something a little less slim fitting and thank the Gods someone at the station had at least thought to purchase a decent high-end suit and not a horrendous poly-cotton one.

As he turned to the bartender and ordered another drink—his third and probably should be his last for the night—a chill spread through the bar. An oppressive air of danger that drowned out the jazz beat and drew Hisato’s gaze to the bar’s entrance. He gripped the glass tight and stared at the men strolling into the bar—Ogawa flanked by four other men, two of whom Hisato was certain he’d seen visiting the loan office and disappearing into the backrooms he couldn’t access.

And fuck, he was screwed. The few grainy photos they’d snapped of Ogawa hadn’t done the man justice and left Hisato unprepared for the sight of him. A photo could never catch the power Ogawa exuded, the way he dominated a room with well-deserved arrogance. Yet it was hard to imagine that a man as gorgeous as this could be responsible for the brutal killings of his rivals and his appreciative gaze didn’t need to be faked. Hisato more than happy to stare at the man as he walked past completely ignorant of Hisato’s presence.

But Ogawa’s ignorance of him wouldn’t last for long. For now, though, Hisato was happy to lean against the bar, nurse his drink and watch Ogawa move through the room. Forget for a moment that this man might kill him.

OGAWA DIDN’T STAY LONG. Long enough to taunt the police scattered around the bar, buying them drinks and toasting them. Hisato laughed at the way his colleagues spluttered at the arrival of the drinks, none understanding how Ogawa had pegged them. It wasn’t hard given the upmarket crowd filling the booths around them, their cheap suits singling them out as not belonging.

Unfortunately—or was it fortuitous—his outburst drew Ogawa’s attention. His heated gaze raking over Hisato and even with the distance separating him it felt like the man was slowly undressing him. Panic tried to claw its way to the surface, dragging fear with it as Ogawa’s flicker of interest turned questioning and Hisato sucked in a sharp breath praying that his cover hadn’t been blown. Naïve to think Ogawa had reached his position without being suspicious of all those around him.

Raising his glass at Ogawa, he grinned. Held the dangerous man’s gaze until Ogawa shifted his first. Hisato breathed out slowly and tried not to let his nerves show, resisting the urge to slump against the bar. He couldn’t afford to look even a little intimidated by Ogawa if he wanted this attention to continue. But the next move in this game was up to Ogawa, Hisato couldn’t approach the man without looking suspicious. And he knew going in this wasn’t going to be game played at speed, but a one that evolved over time with each move made with careful consideration. Pity patience wasn’t a virtue Hisato had learned well.

Turning his back to the room, Hisato signalled the bartender to bring him another whiskey. Hisato needed to keep up the pretence that he was no different to any other businessman here, drinking until the stresses of work were washed away. Except Hisato’s job surrounded him and the whiskey the bartender brought was to fortify his nerves.

Hazarding a glance back at Ogawa, Hisato saw the man stand and weave his way through the tables. Like a pressure wave, Ogawa’s dominance spread out from him and those caught in its path quaked. Hands shook spilling alcohol over tables, the floor and expensive suits while a bartender rushed to clean it up. Hisato was surprised his own hand stayed steady as he watched Ogawa approach unable to draw his eyes away from him. Ogawa didn’t break his stride, throwing Hisato a dangerous grin as he passed that sent an unwelcome shiver down Hisato’s spine.

Ogawa was dangerous, that went without saying, but it wasn’t just his life Hisato now feared for.

Was he really the right person to be handling this assignment?

His gaze fixed on Ogawa he watched the man walk out the door and stared at them long after they stopped swinging. A cough pulled his attention away from the bar’s entrance and to the intimidating man glaring at him. Hisato gripped the glass tighter and smiled, not doubting that his man was heavily armed and had a long list of kills to his name. And Hisato didn’t want to be next.

Message from the Boss. Be here. Tomorrow. Same time.

Hisato nodded, his words failing to present themselves and yet Ogawa’s man didn’t appear at all interested in waiting for them. But then it had been a demand, not a request. Ogawa had issued him a challenge, prove that he was intimidated by him when the place no longer swarmed with cops.

And it was a chance for Hisato to move a little closer to his target, Tatsuo Ogawa.

Hisato stayed at the upmarket bar for another hour after Ogawa left, downing several more whiskeys as he tried to settle his nerves. His colleagues had gone within minutes of Ogawa leaving the bar, trailed after the man in hopes of picking up crumbs of information on the ward boss’ illegal activities. Hisato snorted at the thought, realising that anything they learned was because Ogawa wanted them to know it. Even from this one meeting—if you could call it that—Hisato picked up on how smart Ogawa was and what bumbling fools some of his colleagues were.

But now he was done for the night and in desperate need to burn off the restless energy Ogawa’s presence had left him with. Signalling the bartender, Hisato settled his tab and strolled out of the bar, the cool night air of late summer embracing him. He loosened his tie and pulled the blasted thing free and shoved it in his pocket before unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. His current clothes weren’t an ideal outfit for hitting up the clubs Hisato preferred to frequent, yet he doubted it would hamper his ability to find some company for the night. Might even make it easier, blending in with the crowds that swarmed the streets of Kabukicho, suited men who moved from one bar to the next, each one seedier than the last.

Nodding at the bouncer of his favourite haunt, Hisato stepped inside and relished the wall of techno that hit him pushing the last strands of jazz echoing through his mind away.

And for the first time tonight, Hisato relaxed. All thoughts of Ogawa and the danger he posed to Hisato’s life forgotten for the next hour or two—longer if Hisato found someone to take home. He cast an appreciative gaze over the men on the dancefloor, those leaning against the walls and gathered at the bar. Tonight’s prospects looked good.

Hisato wandered up to the bar, ordered vodka from the bartender that served him. The sharp burn contrasting nicely with the warmth of whiskey he’d been drinking earlier as Hisato turned his attention back to the heated gazes coming his way. There’d be no empty bed for him tonight, throwing the drink back and dropping the glass onto a nearby table as headed for the dancefloor. The mass of bodies in varying stages of undress engulfed him, hands reached for him and tugged Hisato in all directions as they slipped beneath the layers of clothing he wore.

And yet...none of it felt right. He tipped his head back and laughed drawing confused looks from the men surrounding him. Once. He’d seen the man once and already Hisato was comparing all others to him and he shouldn’t be. Tatsuo fucking Ogawa was the one, man Hisato couldn’t afford to lust over. At all. Except in a feigned way.

This assignment wasn’t going to end well.

Not a single man here had any hopes of giving Hisato what he desired as disentangled himself from the hands, bodies wrapped around him. Weaving his way off the crowded dancefloor, Hisato scowled, his restless energy replaced by a frustrated anger. This assignment had just reached a whole new level of danger, one Hisato hadn’t signed up for.

He stepped back onto the street and tilted his head to the sky, stars hidden behind the neon lights and wondered, what the fuck had he done to deserve this?

Chapter Two

TATSUO WAITED FOR THE car door to be opened before stepping onto the pavement. His face impassive, but inside he was giddy with excitement. This bar was his first stop of the night and the one place guaranteed to have cops inside waiting for him to slip up. Not a fucking chance, no matter how many times they waited for him here and followed him onto his next stop of the night, Tatsuo knew they’d never manage to make it past security. And especially not tonight when a few carefully selected guests had been invited to enjoy the night’s entertainment. Well, they’d be the entertainment so it might not be as enjoyable for them, but Tatsuo would find it very much so.

He strode through the doors into the bar, tables already filling with harried businessmen eager to drown their sorrows in whiskey and sake while casting hungry gazes in the direction of others. Tatsuo grinned, quite happy to enjoy the scenery on offer both of the fuckable variety and those who believed they were the law in this part of the city. He stifled chuckle at the police scattered at the tables positioned between the entrance and Tatsuo’s reserved booth near the dancefloor wondering how they’d never realised that their cheap suits stood out in the upmarket Kabukicho bar. The suits worn by the businessmen who frequented this place no doubt cost more than these cops made in a month.

Tatsuo sat down at his booth and waited for a server to approach knowing that his regular order would be delivered to him. But tonight, he also planned to have some fun with his police admirers, tired of seeing the same faces every night.

Your drink... Sir.

Thank you, he replied as the server placed his whiskey in front of him. Grabbed their arm before they could disappear behind the safety of the bar and snickering at the tremble of fear that passed through them. Tonight, I’d also like to by our esteemed guests a drink... one must recognise their hard work in keeping the streets of Shinjuku and Kabukicho safe for its citizens. He didn’t need to point out which tables the police were seated at expecting that the manager of the bar to know it. "And deliver it with the following message: Ogawa thanks you for your concern over his safety, but it isn’t needed."

Tatsuo smiled, raising his glass at the cops as they spluttered at the arrival of his gift. It never failed to amuse him the way they reacted to his acknowledging their presence and tonight it looked as though his actions had amused someone else. He switched his gaze away from the cops to the man chuckling at the bar obviously having worked out who the spluttering fools were.

Intriguing...

He stared at the man, heat flaring in his eyes as his gaze drifted down taking in the lean muscular form highlighted by the man’s slim fitting suit. At first thought, Tatsuo wondered if the man was another undercover cop which would explain the increased police presence tonight. Yet it hadn’t been that long since he’d disposed of the last pretty thing, they’d sent his way and nothing about this beauty screamed cop.  He lacked the horrific dress sense of the last four sent to infiltrate Tatsuo’s group. And more importantly... his heated interest was returned.

Maybe he’d wait to make judgement on the man. Just, not tonight.

And Tatsuo was still grinning when Masanori slid into the back seat of the car alongside him. He couldn’t pin-point what made the man so intriguing or how he’d made an impression on Tatsuo despite their not having interacted. The gorgeous man had reeked of fear, yet he hadn’t let a drop of it show, not flinching or averting his gaze like others did when they captured Tatsuo’s attention.

Did you get his name?

Masanori scoffed. No. Don’t think he could have told me if I’d asked. He didn’t look capable of speaking at all.

But you did relay my message?

Of course, but you do realise Tatsuo, he’s more than likely a cop?

Tatsuo shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. Might be fun to watch him squirm if he is...and if he’s not, it might be interesting to see how much he can handle. Excitement bubbled in his veins at the thought of toying with the beautiful specimen of a man, curious to see what it took to break him while quietly hoping he revelled in the world Tatsuo introduced him to. Pity, I don’t know his name.

Won’t be hard to find out. I recognised him as one of the new hires at Shindo’s. Been there about a month, I think.

He narrowed his eyes trying to recall if he’d seen the man there on his last few visits, not that Tatsuo paid much attention to the employees leaving it in Shindo’s capable hands. Good. We’ll pay Shindo’s a visit tomorrow and I can ask him myself. He didn’t see the point in waiting if he didn’t