Page 5 of Brutal Unionn

Not while I still have a game to play with Nadia.

I exhale, picking up my glass and swirling the sake inside. As I lift it to my lips, the door creaks open, and a gust of warm, humid air rolls in.

A sluggish man in denim jeans, biker boots and a leather jacket in the middle of the summer stomps his way through the bar. He leans over the bar and sighs, tapping twice which indicates that he is in need of attention and is not Japanese.

Roki setsdown the glass and sighs, running a hand through his black hair revealing his red highlights. He flashes a painfully white smile in my direction as he speaks. “Kono gaikokujin-tachi, yubi o naraseba ore ga sugu kuru to omotten no ka?”

Which means dothese foreigners think I’ll come running just because they snap their fingers?

“Eh,”I snort. “Datte yo, temee wa ichi-en de tonde, ichi-doru de hashiru yasuppoi yaro da kara na.” I emphasize my dig by tapping the bar twice just as the foreign man did. I just said “Well yeah, because you’re a cheap bastard who jumps for a yen and runs for a dollar.”

Roki flips me off, and I smirk, finishing my sake before pushing back from the bar. The stool creaks under my weight as I stand, rolling my shoulders back.

“See you next time Roki,” I wave, but the second I turn toward the door, a smooth, cocky voice cuts through the smoky air.

“Sho,” the foreigner drawls, swirling his drink like he owns the place. "Stay a while, won’t you?"

I glance at Roki, who’s already rubbing his temples like he has a headache coming on. I shoot him an apologetic look before grabbing my empty glass off the table.

And then I throw it at the bastard’s head.

The glass shatters against his temple, a spray of liquor and shards exploding through the dim light of the bar. The man barely has time to react before I’m moving.

“Roki, Gomen,”Sorry Roki.I say smoothly, already closing the distance between the foreign man and me.

The foreigner stumbles back with a grunt, but he’s fast. Too fast for some idiot tourist. He recovers, swiping the back of his hand across his bleeding temple, and his lip curls in amusement.

“The rumors were right, you really are a rude little shit, aren’t you?" he muses, cracking his neck.

I flash him a grin. "You came here looking for me, didn’t you? Be grateful I didn’t use the bottle."

He lunges. I duck. His fist sails over my head, smashing into the bar behind me, and Roki groans in frustration.

“Ttaku… Soto de yare, kono baka-domo!”Sheesh... Do it outside, you idiots!Roki yells, already tending to the broken glass on the bar and sighing as the other foreigners race out the bar and the regulars relax into their seats for a good show.

“Sorry cupcake,” I crack my neck side to side. I know Roki will beat my head in later about this but I can’t fight in the streets, not when his bar is my safe haven from the Yakuza. The Yakuza could be anywhere in the world, but this bar. “No can do.”

“For the love of-” Roki’s complaining fizzles out as I straighten just in time to drive my knee into the guy’s stomach.

He wheezes, but he’s tough—he catches my wrist before I can land another hit, twisting sharply. Pain lances up my arm, but I roll with it, using the momentum to drive my elbow into his ribs.

The foreigner stumbles back, gasping for breath, but he’s still on his feet. Tough bastard.

I roll my shoulders back as I smirk. “C’mon, buttercup. Show me what you got!”

His face twists with rage, and just like that, he charges again, swinging wide like an amateur. I sidestep easily, bringing my elbow down on the back of his neck and sending him sprawling onto a nearby table. The impact sends bottles andglasses crashing to the floor, and one of the regulars lets out a long, annoyed sigh.

“You're buying me a new drink, asshole?” the old man grumbles.

I flash him a grin. “Put it on his tab.”

The guy I dropped groans, pushing himself up with shaky arms, but before he can fully recover, I slam my boot into his ribs. He rolls over with a cough, wheezing like a punctured accordion. I am pretty sure I punctured his lung with his own ribs --nice.

I crouch down beside him, tapping my fingers against the side of my head. “What was the plan here, huh? You come all the way to my favorite bar, interrupt my drink, and what? Kill me without a fight? Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”

He spits blood onto the floor and glares at me. “Go to hell.”

I chuckle, standing up. “Maybe, but you first.”