by K E Osborn
My stomach churns again, and I hammer down hating the dread forming in the pit of my very soul. He’s the reason I joined Defiance. To have protection at my back for my family. To know I have a brotherhood of men to fight for my kin. He’s the reason I studied the ways of the Yakuza. Why I wanted to learn all I could about the organization. Why I studied their techniques, their methods, their torture. I learned all their ways just in case this day ever came to pass. Now it’s most probably here, I am not sure I’m ready.
Can I take on the Yakuza?
Yes.
Can I take on my blood father?
That, I do not know.
After talking to Torque at Enzo’s pizzeria and telling him that I believe Aiko Ishikawa is, indeed, my blood father, we decided the best course of action is to bring my family to the club to have them under protection.
I agreed but the thought of calling my mother and telling her that her ex-husband is in town is what set me off. I just had to head off on my own for a while. Clear my head. Spin the wheels as it were. Now I’ve had a moment to let the darker side of me revel in his anguish, I need to get my head back in the game. I have to get my family here to the clubhouse quickly.
Riding into the compound, I park in my usual spot with a loud sigh. The weight of this situation is heavy on me and knowing I need to get my entire family here without telling them why might be a struggle. Mother isn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of ever bringing my sisters to the club, but they have been here a couple of times, so they know the drill.
Yanking my helmet off my head, I notice all my other brothers are already here. I have a call to make and the sooner my family arrives, the calmer I will feel. Heading off, I walk to the side of the clubhouse where the wooden tables are located and where my brothers usually come to chain smoke. Ash and butts litter the concrete as I slide into the seat. Even though there are ashtrays everywhere on the table, I shake my head at the state of this area and the disgusting way the brothers treat it.
Fucking unkempt assholes.
I like to live a clean life and being neat and tidy means you always look your best. You present an image that maintains a high standard. If you come across as shabby, or disheveled, you display dishonor to you and your family. This is how I have been raised. This is why when I torture, I always, always clean my blades. Leaving blood stains is abominable in my mind. Less mess is best. This is my motto, and I live by it.
So sitting here in this filth is making my skin crawl as I pull out my cell. My first instinct is to dial Hiro. He should be the one to lead my family into this coming war if that’s what this will be. But, my sisters will be coming into the club. They’re still so young. Keiko is eighteen, and Mei is only fourteen, and in this environment, without some convincing, I fear my mother won’t bring them here. So as much as my initial reaction is to call my father, I believe the right choice at this time is to talk to my mother.
So, I dial her number and take a deep breath. There’s a typhoon starting to swirl in my stomach at how she will take this news. She ran from Ishikawa and for good reason. Aiko was her husband, but he treated her like a slave. Beat her, punished her, raped her. He was – no is, a worthless piece of scum. Hearing this news is only going to hurt her.
My shoulders are tight with tension as her happy voice echoes down the line. “Raiden, my son. It’s been too long since you’ve called me. Are you well?”
Smiling at her sweet voice, I relax back into the seat and sigh. “Mother… it has been too long. I apologize. Things at the club have been…” I take a breath thinking of how chaotic it’s been here with us thinking the Andrettis were taking over the city. We were amping up to go to war with them, and now we’re fucking working with them to bring down a bigger threat—a much more sinister and ominous threat. A threat to not only the city, to my brothers, but also to my damned family—the fucking Yakuza. I finish my sentence, “Well, they have been a little… crazy.” My wording more formal with my mother than I am with my brothers. I am always respectful toward my family.
Honor above all.
She sighs and lets out a small dissatisfied murmur. “Hmm… my sweet boy, you have grown into such a great man. Your father has taught you well, and I love that you use all your strengths for something useful. I just worry you will get yourself hurt in the chaos of everything.”
“I know, Mom… I know. Your concern is appreciated and not unfounded. But I have some news, and I am afraid of how you might take it. Is Father with you?”
“Hiro is in the den. I can fetch him if you would like?”
My chest constricts, and I run my hand over the shaved skin on the side of my head. “No, I will tell you, then you can gather the family. As long as you are all there together, you can come as soon as we end the call.”
“What do you mean gather the family? Raiden, you are scaring me.”
Dropping my chin to my chest in shame, I prepare to tell her the news she’s been dreading for the past twenty-five years. “I need you, Father, and the girls to pack your bags and come to the clubhouse, now. No hesitation. No stops along the way. This is not a drill, Mother.”
She exhales angrily but hesitates. “Are you in lockdown again, Raiden?”
Tensing, my hand runs through the tendrils of dreadlocks which hang from the other side of my scalp. “No, just you.”
“What? Why? What trouble have you gotten yourself into, son?”
Here it is, the moment of truth.
I sit up taller and take a breath. “There is a new crew in town. A Japanese crew, Mother. They say they are… Yakuza.” I hear an audible gasp, and the unmistakable sound of her rushing about the house in a panic is clear. “Mother, the Oyabun… his name is Ishikawa.”
The sound of glass shattering rings through the cell, and I jolt from the shock as I tense up every muscle in my body while everything goes quiet.
“Mother… are you all right?”
A sniffing sound comes through the cell as I hear running footsteps and my father calling out her name from a distance as he rushes into the room. “Shinobu? What’s the matter?” Father’s muffled words come through from the distance, and I grit my teeth wondering what the hell is happening. A shuffling sound echoes through the cell, and then it clears as I hear Father instruct Mother to sit down.
“Hello?” Father calls down the line.
“Father, is Mother all right?”
He exhales. “She broke a glass on the floor, but she looks like she’s in a state of shock…” There’s a pause. “What did you tell her, Raiden?”
Taking a breath, I grit my teeth at having to say it again. “I think the Ishikawa Yakuza are in town.”
He groans, “Chikushō!” and lets out a heavy sigh. “How do you know?”
Father’s cuss shocks me a little, he’s always so collected. “We ran into them with the club. They are trying to buy businesses in town. They are taking over everything, Father.”
“Yes, they would be. Do they know you are here? Do they know about Shinobu?”
I shrug. “Of that I am unsure. I have been in Ishikawa’s presence. He did not act like he knew me personally, but… I cannot be sure.”
“We are coming to the club.”
“Yes, exactly what I was asking of Mother. All of you need to pack your bags and stay here until we can fix this mess up.”
“Leave it with me. We will pack and be there as soon as possible. Give us a couple of hours to get our affairs in order.”
Nodding, I rub my brow with my fingers. “The sooner the better. I know you have to deal with work and such, but honestly, Father…” I pause while scratching my head, “… if they get to you before you get here…” I leave it hanging, and he exhales.
“Okay, I will make it an hour.”
“Good. How is Mother now?”
He’s quiet for a moment then sighs. “White as a sheet. She will be in shock for a while, I believe. She has been free of Ishikawa for twenty-five years. The thought of seeing him again…�
� This time he leaves it hanging, but I understand as I take in a deep breath.
“Get here soon. I will have your rooms ready for you.”
“Thank you, son.”
I smile at his words. I’ve known for eight years I’m not his biological son, but that doesn’t make him any less my father. “See you soon.”
Ending the call, I stand and start walking as Scratch steps out from the clubhouse along with Torque. Scratch looks annoyed and considering he couldn’t come with us to meet with Andretti because his ride is still fucked up from when Vibe ran into it with the truck, I would say he’s feeling a little left out considering he’s our Road Captain.
Torque looks at me and raises his brow. “Get everything organized?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yes, Pres… we’ll need two rooms. One for my parents and one for my sisters. They can share. It’s better if they’re together.”
Torque nods as Scratch looks over to his ride forlorn, sitting in the parking lot still looking like a crumpled mess and nothing like his usual sparkling Harley.
“Done! I’ll go check that out now. Can you do me a favor?” Torque asks, and I raise my chin in reply. He slaps Scratch’s back making him look to our Pres. “Call Smokin’ Joe, have him come over and deal with Scratch’s ride, will you. I can’t handle his moping another fuckin’ second.”
Scratch smiles as Torque chuckles and walks off through the clubrooms while I nod to Scratch and wander with him over to his ride. Normally, if something happens to one of our rides, we can handle it ourselves, but this bike is mangled, and it needs serious work. Work of a qualified mechanic. Something none of us are. You’d think at least one of the brothers would have a mechanic background, but nope, we have backgrounds in all areas including the gym, guns, and for me, martial arts expertise. Mechanics aren’t our strong suit.
“Man, fucking Vibe really did a number on my baby,” Scratch grunts, his hand running over the crinkled metal of the gas tank.
I chuckle. “Yeah… I can see. I’ll call Joe now.” My cell is still in my hand, so I look down dialing Smokin’ Joe’s number. It rings a couple of times and then answers to the sound of a hacking cough. I pull the phone from my ear and scrunch my face to the sound of the heavy wheezing as I bring it back to my ear and smirk.
“What d’ya want?” he grunts down the line in an all Australian accent.
“Ahhh… Smokin’ Joe?”
Cough, cough. “Who’s askin’?”
“Sensei, from Defiance MC. We’re looking to have a ride taken care of.”
Cough, cough. “Look, I’m sitting it out these days. Fucken fallen ill, but I can send ya my second-in-charge, Spanner, to take a look.”
I shrug wondering why the hell you would choose a name like Spanner. “Sorry, you’re feeling poorly, Joe… but sure, send Spanner as a replacement. As long as the work’s as good as yours, we’ll be happy.”
He chuckles, which then turns into a coughing fit. I tense my muscles glad he’s on the other end of the phone and not anywhere near me. I let him ride out his fit, and as it settles, he then takes a breath and clears his throat. “Spanner’s the best. You won’t find better craftsmanship. Fucken better than mine most of the time.”
“Excellent. We await Spanner’s arrival. We’ll get the ride prepped and ready.”
“Fucken hell, the way you talk always makes me sit up and take notice.” Another cough or two and he continues, “Right, I’ll let the grease monkey know to head on over. Should be with ya in twenty.”
I smirk at Scratch who’s still running his hands over his broken ride. “Thanks again, Joe.”
“Anything for Defiance. Now fuck the hell off and let me cough up my lungs in peace, will ya?”
I chuckle. “Get well.”
He groans and hangs up as I turn to Scratch and smirk at how fitting his name is right now because his bike is covered in damn scratches. I mean the paintwork’s fucked, let alone everything else. Admittedly, it did get hit by a truck, but it’s going to take some damn fine work to get that thing back into working order.
“Spanner should be here in twenty. You need to try and figure out what exactly is wrong with it, so he can get to the root of the issues and fix it,” I tell him, and he looks at the bike and exhales.
“Well, first of all, the exhaust is bent… that’s going to need fixing. The gas tank’s caved in… that will need new fabrication. The engine’s been fucking battered to within an inch of its fucking life…” he pauses, and I’m sure I see his eyes droop, “… so I have no idea what’ll need replacing in there. I’m not a fucking mechanic. That’s what Spanner’s for, but I’m also pretty sure the gearbox is shot, too. And fuck knows what else needs repairing. Goddammit! I just hope he can fix my baby.”
I nod. “I know she means a lot to you… all our rides mean everything to us. I am sure Spanner will be able to fix it. If Smokin’ Joe recommended Spanner, then I’m sure he will fucking excel at what he does.”
“Fucking better, brother, or I’ll be fucking Vibe up close and personal like.”
I let out a small chuckle. “I don’t believe that would be wise… considering Vibe was almost blind at the time of the accident. Remember, the Ishikawa had just beaten him to a bloody pulp.”
Scratch scoffs leaning down to the tank of his ride and kisses the battered paintwork. “Fuck if I care. He broke my baby, so I’ll break his damn face.”
“Children… I live with damn children.” I roll my eyes in protest.
Scratch laughs as he bends down attempting to look over his ride a little more while we wait for this mysterious Spanner to arrive.
SENSEI
I’m sitting at the bar with Scratch waiting for the call to come through on the arrival of Spanner. Ruby, our head club girl, is laughing about how she and Cindi spent last night doing Jell-O shots while we were all spending our time being ambushed by the Ishikawa Yakuza. My mind boggles how these club girls can party all night and still manage to function all day without a hassle.
“How ‘bout you, Sensei? You up for a party tonight?” Cindi asks, thrusting her boobs forward as she leans down onto the bar and looks up at me through her lashes while blinking rapidly.
I chuckle, swallowing a large gulp of my beer while taking a little longer-than-necessary glance at her cleavage. Scratch bumps into my side as I place my stein down on the bar, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Possibly… my family is coming in tonight, so I might have to rain check. But keep your door open for me in the future.”
She pouts and lets out a small whimper. “Shame, I love tugging on those dreadlocks.”
Scratch laughs and slaps me on the back as his cell rings, and he puts it up to his ear. “Yellow?”
I glance at him.
“Awesome, we’ll head out now.” Scratch ends the call, tips his chin to me in a gesture of ‘it’s time to go,’ then stands grabbing his keys. “Spanner’s here… time to fix my baby.” His beaming smile is almost contagious.
I gulp down the last of my beer and wink at Cindi as I stand from my stool and head with Scratch out of the clubrooms toward the main gate. Gatekeeper pulls it open, and I see a woman standing there with a toolbox.
She has strawberry blonde, edging on the side of red, hair pulled back in a ponytail. A red bandana tied around her head keeping her hair from her stunning face. Her eyes are smothered in dark makeup, but her irises are an intense hazel, the flecks of combatting gold, green and brown make them stand out against her harsh makeup.
The next thing I notice is the beauty mark on her upper lip, just like the one Cindy Crawford has. This woman looks like a supermodel, but with a hardcore edge, and I definitely am not mistaken by the fact her arms are littered with an intricate, full sleeve of colored tattoos. I can’t decide if she looks like a girly girl or a tough-as-fuck prison inmate. Her curvy, but toned figure is covered in a tight white tank top and a pair of blue coveralls tied at her waist. My cock instantly approves as I look her up an
d down, but I have to admit I’m slightly confused as to who the fuck she is and what the hell she’s doing here.
“We didn’t order a fucking stripper? Did we order a fucking stripper?” Scratch murmurs in my ear as she places her hand on her hip, blowing out a bubble from the piece of pink gum she’s chewing. It pops with a loud bang, and I open my eyes wide as she stares at us.
I clear my throat as she looks me up and down.
“You gonna let me come in, or what, slick?” Her curt manner shocks me, and I jolt my head back in surprise at her tone.
“First of all, I have no idea who you are. Secondly, we’re expecting Spanner. He should be here.”
She rolls her eyes, and my mouth twitches at her sass. “You’re looking at her, man.” She looks past us into the compound like she’s bored as another bubble pops from her mouth.
Scratch lets out a loud laugh and nods his head in approval. “Fuck yeah!”
Tilting my head at this turn of events, I look her over. She appears like she could handle just about anything thrown at her. She has the edge of a fierce woman, the attitude to match, and I have no idea what the hell is going on right now, but something about her is having a massive effect on me.
Clearing my throat and trying to reign in my composure, I gesture for her to walk in. She smiles at me, and it’s fucking dazzling as she steps up to my side, toolbox in her hand while she walks between Scratch and me as we head toward Scratch’s bike.
“So… you’re a mechanic?” Scratch asks looking her up and down in an overly obvious way.
She chuckles, but it’s more like a ‘fuck you’ than anything else. “Brilliant deduction! What gave it away? And you might want to stop looking at me like that, cowboy, these cookies aren’t up for grabs. Not for you anyway,” she snaps at Scratch.
He chuckles bringing his hand to his chest and fakes a heart attack. “Oh fuck, girl’s got bite. You sure you don’t want just a little taste, princess?”
She snorts and shakes her head. “With you? Think I’ll pass. And call me princess again, slick, and I’ll cut off all that pretty hair of yours while you sleep.”
