Western Romance Collection: Rugged Cowboys Part 54

The big guy reared his fist back and brought it into Wesley's stomach hard. The guy could hit, Wes had to give him that. The big j.a.panese he'd fought earlier that day would have hit harder, but then again he had technique. He had skill. This guy was just swinging on hopes and dreams, and for that, he was doing a fine job.

But that didn't mean he got away scot-free. Wesley brought his hands down on the guy's shoulders and pushed him back. He braced against it, which is what Wes counted on. He shifted his weight back, sudden and hard, and pulled the guy forward, then brought his knee up to meet the guy's teeth. He went down hard and in a pile.

Wes turned to the guy by his sofa, the guy who seemed to be trying to pool all the blood drooling out of his mouth in one hand for some reason.

"You gonna clean this mess up, or...?"

Nine.

Minami She couldn't avoid her father forever. Minami knew it, and in spite of all that she wasn't exactly looking forward to when she had to go home. It was going to be an ugly affair at best. But that didn't change her sitting in the cab the next morning, her throat just as bruised from where that gigantic oaf had gripped her than the kisses.

She sucked in a breath. Her father hadn't sent those men. If they had, then she would've been unharmed. Even pampered, no doubt, because the first priority in Father's eyes was always the importance of family and loyalty. They'd have had the job of getting her first, getting her out, and then coming back.

The second piece of evidence that her father wasn't involved was that they hadn't been carrying pipes or bats or knives. Something to prove they were serious. Which meant that it was likely Higa trying to cover up his mistake. By itself, that was laughable.

It was clear that whether he'd come to the Shimizu chairman like a man, or he hadn't, there was no question that she wasn't still out with Higa. If he was going to try to reclaim her, or insist that he'd dealt with the situation, and only send around a few unarmed men, he still had a lot to learn about the Shimizu.

She stepped out of the taxi again. He'd be busy, now. Or, more than likely, pa.s.sed out. The work day in Father's line of work rarely started before 9 P.M., and he'd had a late night waiting up for her.

The noise of the floors wasn't nearly so amplified in the light of day, but she skipped the noisy steps as much as she could anyways.

Her parents' room was closed. She made her way into her own, checking carefully to make sure she wasn't in for another nasty surprise before stepping fully inside and dropping her clutch on the desk. It landed with a soft *thud.*

She had slept, but it was fitful and brief, and in the end she was still exhausted. Minami took her dress off and threw it away. It was ruined before the fight had started, and now it looked like little more than rags. Oh, well. If she needed to replace it-and she didn't-she didn't lack for money now that her parents had moved into the area and insisted on her moving back in with them. 'For the family's image,' supposedly.

Minami wondered what it said for their image that the Shimizu clan chairman hadn't been back in j.a.pan for the better part of a month, and wasn't going back for another several days. And then it would be a short trip, because he insisted that he had to insert himself in his daughter's life.

Minami sighed and laid her head down on her pillow, got good and comfortable in the bed, and drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

She was awoken by the a knock at the door. She opened her eyes and slowly pushed herself up to open it, only to find that it was already open. Her father stood in one of his nicer suits and that usual stony expression on his face that never seemed to vary-except when he was angry.

"Minami?"

"Yes?"

"We're going to go meet with Higa's parents. They're a small family, there shouldn't be much of an apology involved. Especially since, Majima tells me that he took you-to a parking lot?"

"An underground fight."

Her father had practiced, for years, the art of not responding to things. It was important not to overreact to any news when you work in the Yakuza. People take things much more harshly than they might in everyday life.

For Minami, though, his faces were easy to read. Subtle, but she knew each one well. He pinched his lips together in a way that told her that he disapproved of the idea. He was likely reconsidering the entire idea of an apology, but he would still go through with it in either case.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, softly.

Her father nodded gravely, and then turned and he was gone. Minami let out a breath. He'd calmed down more than she would have imagined. Whatever had happened, she wasn't going to question it, but that didn't mean that it wasn't going to come down on her head. She took a breath and laid back on her bed, now fully awake.

It was constant uncertainty with her father, never knowing what was going to set him off, and never knowing what was going to set him right again. Everything was pride and honor and face with his life. With a family so large.

It was doubly ironic that the Shimizu family was so large, when the head had only one child. The people around the house, of course, were not afraid to discuss the rumors that it wasn't for a lack of trying, but that the Chairman's second wife was infertile. They wouldn't have discussed it if they knew Minami was listening, but that was easy to avoid when she wanted to know the juiciest gossip.

With Minami's 'real' mother being murdered when Minami was only a baby, she had been raised thinking of Aki as her mother. It was almost a surprise to learn the woman wasn't her mother, but then again it changed nothing. Aki was her mother, whether or not she gave birth to her.

Minami pushed her blanket off and dressed slowly. Her door was closed, but it mattered surprisingly little. As many men as there were in the house, and as much as she couldn't have trusted them around any of her girlfriends, Minami was so far off-limits as to be in an entirely different galaxy. They wouldn't dream of trying to peep, because even if they caught an accidental glimpse, if they were caught doing it, the punishment would... well, it certainly wouldn't match the crime, that much was certain.

Minami shrugged on a shirt and pair of shorts that showed off her long, slender legs. Comfort was king, particularly after such a long day. Tonight her father was going to speak to Higa, and that meant that there was a good chance he got the whole story. Which had further implications, she knew. There was no way that he was going to hear about the story and then not find out about Wesley.

She realized at that moment she needed to make her decision between the two of them. It wasn't a hard decision to make.

Wesley was a stranger. A stranger with a great c.o.c.k, and the right know-how to use it. But whether or not she approved of the world her father came from, he was her father nonetheless.

At least, it shouldn't have been a difficult choice. But then, how many more times would she be in this situation? Somewhere where some man takes her away because some arranged-marriage candidate brings her into some place she shouldn't ever have gone in the first place?

She knew better than to think it would happen again. Her father would take precautions against that. No doubt he was fuming, right now, and the conversation would only go as well as they let it go, by letting him fume silently.

If Higa spoke up, though, it wouldn't take long for his frustrations to become known, and then all bets were off. She almost couldn't help smiling a the thought of the noodle-thin twerp getting his just desserts.

The smile faded when she thought of what would happen to Wes.

Ten.

Wes "I can't send any money this week."

Wesley didn't like saying the words. When they answered 'we understand,' it was like he was being hit in the gut. Because as far as he could tell, she understood. She wasn't angry or upset or hurt by it. Nothing like that.

She knew that it wasn't going to happen and understood that that happened sometimes. Wesley's head pounded in frustration. What was the G.o.d d.a.m.ned point if it didn't matter when he didn't come through?

He already knew the answer, as he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. It mattered. It was the difference between eating and starving. It was important that they had that money. They were just children. They needed the food.

But they weren't angry, hurt, even disappointed. They understood. Wesley didn't deserve that kind of approval or appreciation.

Why hadn't she screamed at him? Told him how he was a piece of s.h.i.t for not coming through for people who were expecting him to make it work for them? But no. Instead, they understood.

Wes stopped himself slipping the phone into his pocket and pulled up the dialer. He jabbed Todd Bradley's name on the contact list and pressed the little green phone icon.

He picked up after 3 rings.

"I need a fight."

"I told you I'd call you if I had something."

"Then make something."

"Wes, I can't-"

"Look, I'll fight anyone. I'll take anything. Half my usual fee, but I want to fight. Tonight."

"I can get you a fight in two days, another big one like last night, and if you don't f.u.c.k up somehow, you'll be golden."

"Okay, what about tonight?"

"Are you that f.u.c.kin' impatient, Wes?"

"I need the money, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. Look, I can get something. It's not the usual place, and it's not the usual guys. I don't trust these guys, so... I dunno, bring a piece, and bring a friend."

"I'm not worried," Wes said softly.

"I'll make a call, let them know you're coming."

"What time?"

"Two."

"Send me a location when you've cleared everything up."

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Todd."

"Yeah."

Wes hung up first and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Todd was right to worry about him, to think that this was too much. It was lucky that he'd only been fighting guys who Wes either outcla.s.sed or got lucky and didn't have to fight long.

If the fights took more than a few hits, and he took more than a punch or two, then it wouldn't be a pace he could maintain. It wasn't as if he had much choice, but he would do what he had to do, regardless.

Wes let out a long breath. He couldn't keep fighting like this. He couldn't keep fighting every night, knowing that if he got a broken nose, it wasn't going to matter. He would still call Bradley the next day, try to show up with a big white bandage holding his nose in place.

It would paint a big G.o.dd.a.m.n target right on his face, which wouldn't be particularly helpful. How long could he keep it up? A month? A year? Not long. Not long enough to see the kids out of high school. Certainly not long enough to put them through college. Not long enough.

But there were no alternatives for him. n.o.body was lining up to make sure that he was doing fine, to make sure that everything wasn't going to s.h.i.t. Would it matter if they did?

The fact was that he needed a meal-ticket that wasn't a constant risk. He'd considered it before. There were plenty of places that he could go to get regular jobs. Even places that would hire an ex-con for legit work. It wasn't as if construction was bad work, or anything. But it wasn't enough money. Never enough money.

The places he could make more were exactly the sort of people he'd come here trying to avoid. Falling back in with the same crowd he'd left New York to get away from was a one-way ticket back to New York, and as nice as it would be to see the girls, there was a reason he couldn't go back.

Wes settled down into his sofa. His hands hurt, and the wooden floor was stained with that idiot f.u.c.king a.s.shole's blood where he'd let himself bleed all over the d.a.m.n place. Couldn't these thugs at least have the decency not to get their blood all over his stuff?

He tried to gather up the energy to put everything back in order, but it was only a kind of halfway order anyways.

The idea occurred to him a few minutes later, while he tried to calm his nerves. There was an alternative. Something that he could do to make money. Free money, not much work involved.

Wes was no expert on the Yakuza, but Todd Bradley was a man with connections much higher up than either of them, and if he put out the call and got back that Shimizu wasn't to be f.u.c.ked around with, that meant they weren't some hick, backwater family.

Minami was every bit the rich girl he'd pegged her for, but it wasn't her boyfriend's money. It was her father's. He could exploit that relationship, if he tried. No problem. He tried to muster up some moral reservations, but the fact was that he didn't feel anything like that. There was no time for morals, not when it was about his family.

The idea lit a fire under his a.s.s, sent him shooting up from the couch. He wanted to make something happen, make sure that she was on the hook. He knew she was; she'd come back twice in one night, and that wasn't the sort of thing someone did lightly. Not where he came from, and that went double for the daughter of some big Yakuza family.

She would come back eventually. Maybe even 'soon,' if he was lucky. Then it would be time to turn on the charm and see how much he could get out of her. With luck, he could do it without scamming her. He could talk to her about it, eventually. He'd tell her the truth.

Not right away, though. He wasn't a G.o.d d.a.m.ned idiot. When it was time to tell the truth, he'd do it, but first he'd have to get closer to her. Women didn't always like a man to have that sort of history. Men didn't particularly like it in their women, either.

Once she was on the hook, he'd be able to tell her, and she'd understand. Until then, he'd keep it from her as long as he had to. Because there wasn't any other option. He had a responsibility to those girls, and the fact that Minami might not approve didn't change the responsibility.

Wes forced himself to sit, forced himself to be still for another few moments. He needed to calm down, needed to dissipate that nervous energy somehow. Once he was settled in, he could start to plan. Right now he wasn't useful to anyone.

The relationship that was going to come was just like a fight. The first line of defense was his feet. Placement. Second were his hands. But master of everything was the ability to see things for what they were, and react appropriately. That meant being calm, and that meant being smart. It had worked for him in hundreds of fights, and it would work for him here.

All he had to do was calm down and think.

Eleven.

Minami Minami's breath went out of her lungs unsteadily. She didn't like feeling this way, and she sure as h.e.l.l didn't like that Wesley Park, underground fist-fighter, was the one behind it.

Father's business was Father's business. The sooner he realized it, the way that she had all those years ago, the sooner she could have her own life. The sooner she could get away from the world that she had no interest in remaining in.

But that wasn't going to be an option, not if he had his way. Minami knew that it was only a matter of time before Wes was going to get the hammer of the Shimizu family dropped on him.

When he did, it wasn't going to be a case where he might be totally fine. He was, for all intents and purposes, already dead at this point. He didn't know it yet, but Minami, she knew.

That should have made it easier to leave him to his fate, and that was exactly what she'd intended to do. Return to her online life, her online friends, and get the h.e.l.l away from the madness that she'd been thrust into completely against her will.