Kingpin: Kingpin, #1

By Yami Yamaguchi

Exiled from his family. Marked for death. Determined to survive.

 

Everything is for sale during the next 72 hours—guns, knives, assassination attempts. Reiji, a young man with no allies and a father who wants to see him dead, knows the only thing standing between life and death is his ability to outwit and outrun his vengeful uncle.

 

For ten-million-dollars, Reiji can buy himself some time… but it may not be enough to keep him alive.

 

Find out what happens when friends turn to foes and family can be deadly in this adrenaline-rushing Seinen light novel thriller!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brickhouse Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393180760

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Yami Yamaguchi

Published by: Brickhouse Publishing

Visit us on Facebook at

https://www.facebook.com/authoryamiyamaguchi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Author’s Note

All characters in this work of fiction are

eighteen years of age or older.

Click this link

to join our email list to stay up to date

about our latest releases, news and giveaways.

Contents

Chapter 1: Sexy Words

Chapter 2: ENEMY

Chapter 3: Intimacy

Chapter 4: Birth

Chapter 5: Pay to Kill

Chapter 6: Murder. Death. Kill.

Chapter 7: Daytime Haunting

Chapter 8: Can’t Trust Women.

Chapter 9: The Hit

Chapter 10: Prey

Chapter 11: Snatched

Chapter 12: Punishment

Chapter 13: #LustforStrippers

Chapter 14: Shoot up the Club

Chapter 15: Pulled Up on A Giant

Chapter 16: Prayer

Chapter 17: Farewell

Dedication

This is for the woman I met as a child at an event at my local Catholic church. Thanks for giving me the pink rosary. Even though we met for only ten seconds at most, your positive, spiritual radiance served as a model for me to this day. Certainly, your spirit will influence me for the rest of my life.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to those who underestimated me.

Chapter

1

Sexy Words

Tonight was poetry night at Sweet Sounds lounge, between Lakewood and Gatorsville. The lounge was filled with people looking to escape the craziness of urban life and loved mellow entertainment. The lounge is a hotspot for all kinds looking to have a good time on a weekend night. The lounge was a distinct departure from the seedier types of lounges in the city center, the metro area. Most were loud. Others just strip clubs masquerading as upscale establishments. Sweet Sounds’ owner made sure to place his lounge away from those places. Also, he made sure the lounge maintained an aura of luxury without the flashiness of expensive decorations.

The crowd gathered inside the building today was livelier than usual, but below the threshold for scorn from fellow patrons. As the night wore on, poetry hour approached. Papers shuffled in the crowd. Some people even began rehearsing and muttering their lines to themselves. Others scanned and scrolled through their phones trying to master their lines before their time to go onto the stage.

A cranky, yet sharply dressed older man in his 70s approached the stage steps. He climbed the stairs one by one, his leg clunking against each step. The crowd’s volume remained the same. An intentional screech from the microphone silenced the crowd.

We are going to begin the poetry portion of the evening in a minute, he bellowed, his voice seeming bigger than his body—a complete mismatch. He pulled out a crumbled paper from his back pocket. Let’s see. Our first reader tonight is Sakura. That’s an interesting name. Sakura, come on up!

A woman from the back row made her way to the front. The crowd instantly fell silent. The crowd did not stir as the woman crossed the seats and aisle to grace the stage. The audience appraised her gray dress, clinging to her curvy frame. Green eyes adorned her face and red hair topped this near-celestial being.

Golden curtains hung against tired windows. Outdated radiators lined the walls. The wooden floor echoed as people crossed it. The parquet came from another era, a time when it shone bright. Wallpaper against the painted wooden architraves looked sad and foreboding. It appeared as if placed there many years ago, when no one had the nerve to question the design. The color suited the lounge. Discrete patterns did not outshine the occupants.

The women stood out. Their nightwear looked bright and vibrant against the room’s colors. At the end lay a stage, a raised, wood-paneled podium. Tables were lit only by contemporary lamps that flickered as waiters fussed over bottles of questionable wine. The entrance was grand and had steps of marble. Carpeted areas contained cushion. The material lessened the shock of stepping from the 21st century into another time. Men stood in waiting for coats, as people entered from the street outside into the vestibule.

The chairs provided a level of comfort, unseen since an earlier era. Metal strips edged the carpet. Shoes trod on wooden slatted parquet. The guests appreciated the softer surface. The click clacks of heels; murmurs of high society; and the chink of glasses. Then, everyone took their seat.

The crowd turned as the curtains rose. The stage spotlight showed Sakura. She was a regal woman, whose presence demanded attention. Conversations ended. Something grabbed them by the balls and made them listen. Something brought out feminine envy. She didn’t need to hush them. No need to clink glasses to silence them. The lounge lights dipped to a dimness. They knew better than to chatter. The rules forbade talk during performances.

The man passed the microphone to Sakura.

This is less a poem, than powerful prose. My words are a warning for the masses. — the mysterious woman said.

"Sugar…

Hatred is the highest, most pure form of love…

An intense, negative energy binds two people, groups, even multitudes together…

Groups and collectives join…

Their grand conclusion tied together through a powerful bond…

Through expressions of envy, love, and passion…

Hatred is a rush towards a fate…

Hate numbs us until our evil is done…

Whether right or wrong, one falls, breaking our bond, our invisible emotional hug.

But no matter what sugar

My whip will be at the ready

My chains too

For me and you

And your foes soon

No matter what your mother says

Or your father does

Or how much your uncle bleeds

I will be on your side for your conquests

Until you slay your final enemy

And emerge victorious

Over your foe

And me

Thank you, she concluded.

The crowd clapped for politeness’ sake. The audience wondered who her message was for as she left the stage. In that moment, they did not care as her body stole their minds again. She did not care. She needed to get the words off her chest before she continued her journey.

Her focus jumped elsewhere. Her mind leapt to a time long ago. Colorful people with murderous intent destined for struggle. She sighed. She wondered why she left. For a greater purpose? Yes. Because she wanted to leave? No. She wanted him. She wanted to stay. But duty called.

Sakura passed through the building’s doorway. For a moment, the breeze swept her thoughts from her mind. A moment later, her focus returned. She stood in the chilly air. Her nostrils tingled, teasing a sneeze. She suppressed the sneeze. Sakura chuckled, teeth peeking between her full red lips. The man of her dreams filled her thoughts. Just the thought of him widened her smile. Then she spoke to herself louder than she intended.

I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.

Chapter

2

ENEMY

"Ha

rder, harder," Ichika demanded from Gaku. The gruff sounds bounced off the wall and echoed through the house.

Yes, yes! Ichika screamed as her orgasm climaxed.

It was another wild sex session with Gaku, like Tuesday, last weekend, or twice last Thursday. Hell, she would rather have sex with everyone except her husband, Fuiji. He had become an irregular chore. Gaku was a regularly scheduled pleasure. Ichika rearranged furniture in their bedroom to hide her dried squirt stains oozing on the walls.

Sex with Fuiji started off fresh and exciting in the early years of their relationship, Back then, Fuiji was involved in the underworld – drug dealer, murder, prostitution – anything to make a dollar, to survive and win. This lifestyle excided Ichika. Over time, Fuiji desired an easier life. He wanted to go into legitimate businesses like real estate. This meant he had to shed his old, deviant past. As he let go of his activities one by one, Ichika grew a lot less excited to be around Fuiji. Suits and ties did not correlate to the same level of respect as someone had in the streets. Slowly, but surely, her desire to be with Fuiji decreased until one day, Ichika realize Fuiji no longer made her squirt. Her body tightened and sealed any pleasure fluids inside her when they had sex. He could not give her the attention she craved. That was the lie Ichika told herself over and over to justify her infidelity. Fuiji had to attend meetings upon meetings and meetings. Over the years, Fuiji spent less and less time with Ichika. The conversations with women at parties got longer. Fuiji’s eye winks did not help either. The late nights he stayed out claiming to be working on business deals or contract. When Fuiji and Ichika did have sex, it was like an exhausted beached whale trying to move on its own into sea. Still, he gave her more love than anyone else had. Kisses on the neck, tropical trips on demand, and enough play money for 50 women. Yet, here she was getting pounded out by, Gaku, Fuiji’s worst enemy.

Gaku was a man that she should have avoided at all cost. Yet, her pussy tingled when she saw him. The risk excited her to her core. Pleasure spread through her body with each dick thrust. This session was no different.

Turn around and give me your mouth and swallow, Gaku said gruffly. His musky scent drove her crazy.

Ichika did as she was told and took the short pecker, a funnel for the human flax she was about to drink. She took it all proudly. Ichika let the gooey white liquid sit in her mouth. She swished Gaku’s juices in her eager mouth. She looked up at the liquid’s creator. She stared into those two oceans for eyes and swallowed in excitable defiance.

Gaku smiled and said, Good Girl.

Thank you, sir. Her words dripped with seductive innocence.

Bang! A shot rang out. He ducked with his hands over his head. His body shook. He did not budge from his spot. The street life did not snuff out his fear of guns. She watched him drop to the ground. His eyes grew wet as if he would cry at any moment. He probably thought her husband, Fuiji, was home. Ichika recognized the sound.

Fuiji’s car was rounding the corner. They still had time, but they needed to hurry. The damn muffler keeps backfiring. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d be happy to hear his car backfiring. All the nights she spent yelling at him for not buying another one, she was glad he did not listen to her.

Fuiji and Ichika kept most of their clothes on during their dalliances in case such a situation happened. Ichika kept her floral pattern spring dress on, but it was a little wrinkled. She pushed Gaku out the door with his shorts still at his ankles while he fumbled to put on his shirt. Well, it was fun, she hurriedly said.

She combed her fingers through her hair and realized the house wafted with her sin. Shit, she ran around her the room and sprayed Lysol everywhere. Then, she yanked the sheets off the bed.

Follow me! she told Gaku. He stood outside her bedroom. His eyes were dancing like the ocean in high tide and light reflecting like the full moon. All his clothes were on at least.

The pair ran through the house from the second to the first floor. As Ichika gripped Gaku’s hand to lead the way, her eyes darted. Which way, which way? She mumbled to herself and bit her lip. The front won’t work. The neighbors are outside, and the back has too many snitches. The locked chipped wooden door to the basement caught Ichika’s eye.

Come down here, she said hurriedly.

Where are you taking me? Gaku said. Ichika heard the fear in his voice. So much for being a street guy, Ichika thought to herself.

I am taking you to the secret passageway out of the house through the basement. No one knows about the tunnel and we never use it. But you are an exception. Ichika’s eyes twinkled as she spoke.

That makes me special. Gaku said sarcastically.

Ichika led her lover into the basement. The aroma of