Kaylin McFarren is a California
native who has enjoyed traveling around the world. She previously worked as
director for a fine art gallery, where she helped foster the careers of various
artists before feeling the urge to satisfy her won creative impulses.
Since launching her writing career, McFarren has earned more
than a dozen literary awards in addition to a finalist spot in the 2008 RWA
Golden Heart Contest. A member of RWA, Rose City Romance Writers, and
Willamette Writers, she also lends her
participation and support to various charitable and
educational organizations in the Pacific Northwest.
McFarren currently lives with her husband in Oregon.
They have three children and two grandchildren.
Rachel
Lyons and Chase Cohen work together as the successful owners of a treasure
hunting company. But a seemingly simply assignment – to track down a priceless
gem that is believed to buried in a shipwreck deep within the Sea of Japan –
takes a starling, and dangerous, turn.
Faced
with a monk’s dark prophecy that a natural disaster will soon strike Japan,
killing millions, Rachel and Chase must embark on the mission of a lifetime in
order to uncover the three cursed samurai swords that can avert the
catastrophe.
Chaos
ensues as their adventure takes them from shark infested waters and creepy
caves to haunted hidden tombs and a confrontation with Yakuza gang members.
Time
is running out as the prophecy’s day of reckoning draws near. Will Rachel and
Chase succeed before disaster strikes?
Sneak peak!!!!!
The
mystery begins…
Kenji
Otadidn’t fit the description of a bloodthirsty killer. Upon
meeting him, it would be difficult to believe he’d gotten away with
murdering at least twenty-five men. He was intelligent, intuitive and
physically attractive. His black hair was kept short and neat, and
from the professional manner in which he dressed and carried himself,
he could have been mistaken fora television announcer or successful
business executive. He socialized in mixed circles – with
stockbrokers, politicians and street-smart hoodlums alike – and his
charming, larger-than-life personality drew the attention of women
everywhere. However, after meeting Mariko Abe, his taste in the
fairer sex had been spoiled forever. No one in his mind would ever
compare to Kyoto’s most beautiful geishaorbe foolish enough to keep
her away from him.
At 8:45
P.M., he stepped inside RAIN, one of the hottest nightclubs in
Japan’s Roppongi district with his face hidden behind a katou anime
mask. He knew only the “big” people in Tokyo could gain access to
this place, and at the age of 29, he was already considered one of
the largest. His loyalty to his yakuza family, the Zakura-kai,
carried great weight and had earned him three rankings within the
Japanese syndicate: Kaito Mitsui’s body guard, his personal
advisor, and captain of his own crew of soldiers. Yet his hard-earned
promotions were not the result of monies earned, smart business
dealings or his ability to entice new, ambitious recruits. They came
as the result of his eight-year incarceration on behalf of his boss
for a botched extortion scam.
With renewed
interest in the noisy scene before him, Kenji pulled off his mask and
tucked it into his black studded belt. He ran his hand across the
back of his sweaty neck – the irritatingresultof another muggy
August night. Unlike the devoted men in his crew, he shied away from
solid black suits by wearing tight jeans and a loose white shirt most
days. And although the police had released him only four days
earlier, across his back he carried a red wakazashi– a lethal 31”
sword.
Associates
who were below Kenji’s rank moved quickly aside and bowed in
respect as he passed. On more than one occasion he’d proven himself
a deadly adversary with his sweeping blade, the most memorable
occurring ten years earlier. Boss Mitsui had called a meeting between
Katsu Nagura and all the underbosses in the Zakura-kai to discuss
territorial issues. Foolishly, Nagura had challenged their supreme
leader, bringing him to his feet.
“You’re
not even worth killing! You stupid ingrate!” Kaito Mitsui yelled at
the top of his lungs.
Dedicated to
his mission to protect his boss at any cost, Kenji appeared in front
of Nagura in the blink of an eye. He whipped out his sword and
slashed the yakuza boss’s face twice across both cheeks. Within
seconds, four of his men jumped in and were dropped to their knees
with gaping wounds and severed arteries. The ones that could stand
scrambledto get out of there. The two that couldn’t were carried
off and deposited in a common grave. Strangely, the whereabouts of
these men were of no interest to local officials or members of
Nagura’s group. Kenji was never confronted for his part in the
bloody incident and was left to conduct business as usual in the
Zakura-kai with the same unaffected attitude he exhibited tonight.
As he neared
the DJ’s booth, the base-infused rock music grew louder. Hundreds
of bodies were bouncing to the techno beat. Dresses were shimmering
beneath flashing strobe lights and the surrounding bar was filled
three deep with thirsty customers. By Kenji’s estimate, it was
unusually busy for a Monday night, even with the discounted drinks
andRockabilia theme.
While he
continued to eye the club’s glitzy interior, contemplating owning
it one day, two girls crossed the dance floor and were heading
straight for him.“Ken-chan, come dance with me,” the girl in the
skimpy red dress called out. She was swaying her hips to the music
provocatively and angling a come-hither look. Her friend in a micro
blue skirt joined in, matching her move for move. In his book, with
their thigh-high stockings and hemlines barely covering their assets,
they looked like Sasebo bargirls. But another quick look around
convinced him they weren’t alone in their meat market attire.
“You
promised last time,” the girl in red persisted.
Right.
Kenji feigned a smile. He knew these girls belonged to Tak – a
“family” member who enjoyed cheap whores and spending his money
in by-the-hour love hotels.
“He’s
not interested in you,” the other girl said, tugging at his arm.
“He promised to dance with me. Right, Kenji?”
He didn't,
of course. He had better things to do and would have remembered if
he’d made a promise to anyone…especially these two. He pulled his
arm free with little effort. “Sorry, Tak’s waiting. Maybe another
time.” Kenji could hear their annoying little whines as he stepped
away. Hustlers like these were more disappointed in the watered-down
drinks you didn’t buy them than the time you weren’t willing to
spare.
He edged his
way around the crowd and spotted his friend at the back of the room.
As usual, the acme-scarred rebel was holding court in one of the
club’s high-back chairs with drinks on the table and two girls
seated before him hanging on every word.
As he drew
near, Tak’s eyes lifted. “Hey, man! Been waiting for you. What
took you so long?” Unlike most of the people Kenji socialized with,
Takashi Bekku lacked proper manners. He was slow at paying tabsunless
there was someone at the table he needed to impress. Although he was
street smart, his education ended at junior high. The knife scars on
his arms and cheek came from his father and not from gang members as
his girlfriends were lead to believe. But despite it all, Kenji Ota
valued their friendship and was confident that if worse came to
worst, Takashi would be there for him – watching his back all the
way.
“Sorry I’m
late,” Kenji said. “I had some business to take care of.” He
pulled up an empty chair and two new girls came over to join them.
They giggled, prattled away and padded his shoulder, but he paid them
no mind.
By the look
of excitement in Tak’s eyes, he knew exactly what Kenji was talking
about. Earlier that night, Mitsui-san had ordered a hit on Nobu
Kimura. He was a retired detective who had spent half his life trying
to bring down the Zakura-kai. The man was clever, considering he was
old, half blind, and favored a leg from a childhood injury. But he
was also brazen and secretly corrupt. He had raided their clubs,
planted wires and hassled their business associates. He even went so
far as to interrupt the boss’s birthday party just when his cake
arrived. All because Mitsui refused to drop a dime – hand him a
boss on a silver platter to make him look good with his department
heads.
Of course,
it came as no surprise when Kenji got the order to get rid of him.
Yet the recollection left him grimacing. He didn’t mind taking care
of the competition or squirrely guys in the organization, but this
was different. Kimura was an outsider, a well-known official people
were likely to miss.
Tak was
grinning over the top of his drink. “So how’d it go? As good as
I'm guessing?”
Kenji
glanced away, recalling the white bathroom’s blood-splattered
walls. He grew anxious and started bouncing his heel under the table.
Like chewing on fingernails, he found it hard to sit still and not
move when surrounded by people.
“C'mon,
gimme the gory details,” his friend insisted.
Kenjileaned
in and lowered his voice. “I sliced his neck from ear to ear like
I’m gonna do yours if you don’t shut up."
Tak laughed
and slapped his fist into his hand. “Aw, man! Nice. Quick death.
Now if it was me, I would’ve delivered slow torture.”
“Yeah,
that sounds like you. Anyway, you didn't ask me to come here to
discuss Kimura. There must be something else on your mind, right?”
The girl on
his left handed him one of the beers from the table. He nodded his
thanks and twisted off the cap. After a long pull, he sat back and
waited for Tak’s answer. “I heard Satoru Yamada hooked up with an
American treasure-hunting company and is flying in from Los Angeles
tonight. The lead diver showed up three days ago and has been real
tight with your sister Yuki ever since. They’ve been buying gear
and going to libraries…checking out history and treasure-hunting
shit. No one seems to know much, but I got a good feeling about this
one.”
Kenji
listened closely, thoughtfully nodding.
“Anyway,
it turns out this guy has been trying to line up a dive boat. Since
you got one stored in that marina you own, this could be your chance
to pull in some real dough…maybe even throw a few crumbs my way.”
Kenji
snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right. What else do you know?”
“They’re
getting together for a meeting on Friday night andYamada invited that
geisha Mariko Abe to join him. He was checking out rings before
leaving town. Before the night’s over, they might be celebrating
more than a partnership.”
Shit.
Kenjiswallowed hard. He lowered his crossed arms but managed to
keep his eyes level, knowing the slightest sign of weakness could
undermine his position. “Is that it?” he asked.
“So far.
I’m going to do a little more snooping around to see if there’s
anything worthwhile to report. Just wanted to give you a head’s
up.”
Ah...now it
made sense. The real reason Tak had called and insisted he show up.
It wasn’t about his sister forming an alliance with Yamada. They’d
been friends for years and were always covering for each other. But
when it came to his boss, if the American was here to recover
something of value, stealing it and handing it over to Mitsui could
result in gaining his favor. Maybe even expedite a promotion.
“So,
where’s this meeting going to take place?” Kenji asked. “If
it's anywhere near the Tanahashi mansion, you won't make it in there
alive. There are hundreds of guards surrounding that place. You'll be
cut into tiny pieces if you take one step on their ground.”
Tak was
quick with a comeback. “No way in hell. You think I'm stupid? My
connection at the Garden restaurant said they’re due at 6:30.”
“Fancy.
Yamada must’ve swindled some rich gaijins out of their money,”
Kenji said. “So you got any idea what they’re after?”
Tak half
shrugged. “Not a clue.”
“Well, if
you hear anything, I’d be interested in knowing.”
“Sure, you
got it. Anyway, I'm thinking of crashing their party.”
Kenji huffed
a laugh. "Why would you do that?”
“First
hand information, of course.”
“Well,
good luck with that.”Kenji stood up and started to leave.
Tak reached
out and grabbed his arm.“Wait a minute! I need your help.”
“No way.
It doesn’t matter how much I hate Yamada, I’m not going anywhere
near him. Not without the boss’ say-so.”
Tak’s eyes
narrowed. “Whatever I find out could benefit the Zakura-kai,” he
reminded him.
It was no
secret Kenji would do anything for the family: infiltrate investment
companies, circulate meth, demand protection money…even destroy
their enemies should he be called upon to do so. And even though
friendships were short-lived, they were equally important. He didn’t
want to waste the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. Too
many years had been spent that way.
Kenji heaved
a sigh. If he didn’t go along to keep Takashi Bekku out of trouble,
the next execution order he received could have his name written all
over it. "All right,” he finally said. “What do you want me
to do?"
“You’ll
love it. I picked up a wig and borrowed some women’s clothes. I
heard they’re looking for wait staff, so I thought we’d sneak
into the restaurant pretending to be servers.”
Kenji
unleashed a cynical laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Women’s
clothes? And who do you think is going to wear those?”
Tak’s brow
furrowed. “You got a better idea?”
“As a
matter of fact I do.” Kenji thought about Yamada and Mariko, and
the promise he made to himself to never let anyone have
her…especially that ridiculous self-serving monk. “I might have
to clean out half my bank account before I’m through,” he said,
“but in the end, it will all be worth it.”
* * *
The doorbell
buzzed again. Kenji laughed and walked to the front door of his
apartment with his towel draped over his shoulder and his white shirt
unbuttoned. He was getting ready to tell Takashi he wasn’t
interested in his stupid plan or in hearing more about the container
he was in the process of loading. But by the time he'd pulled the
knob and begun to swing the door open, he realized he really didn't
know who was on the other side and almost slammed the door in the
face of a nerdy-looking guy.
“Kenji
Ota? I’m here about a plumbing issue. Sorry, am I interrupting?”
What the
hell. Kenji looked him up and down. “Yes to the first, no to
the second,” he said sternly. The guy had brownish hair, which was
scattered ambiguously about his head. His face was freckled and he
appeared to be middle-aged with neither the build nor the dress of a
yakuza gang member. All and in, he looked perfectly harmless. Still,
Kenji reflected, so had the others.
“I'm in
charge of maintenance,” the man explained. “My name is Daiichi
Asano. As you may know, there have been some concerns about possible
water leakage in the building. We're having a terrible time trying to
find the source, though, and we're reduced to looking at any suspect
blip in our readings, no matter how insignificant. Uh, have you
noticed anything leaking in your apartment?”
“I was
using the shower earlier,”Kenji said. “Would that do it?”
Daiichi
sighed. “Ah, yes. I believe it would.” He fiddled with the seam
in his pants, then seemed to notice himself and swiftly placed his
hand in his back pocket.
“Did you
want something else?”Kenji said.
“Well…I
know this is a bit of a bother, but might I take a look around, just
for appearance sake? If I can't tell my boss I gave this an
inspection, even a cursory one, he'll have my head.”
Kenji
hesitated, but decided that he might as well let the man take a look
rather than arouse any kind of suspicion, however small. “Sure,
help yourself,” he said.
Before
Daiichi could respond,Kenji immediately walked into the kitchen. He
tookKimura’swatch from the counter where he had left it and slipped
it into his backpocket. When he looked up, Daiichiwas peering around
the corner, scrutinizing his movements.
“You keep
this place pretty neat.”
“Well, you
know…confirmed bachelor here,” he said with forced cheer.
The man
nodded and flashed a wry smile, showing he didn't have a clue. He
followed Kenjithrough the kitchen and looked around. Surprisingly,
his gaze passed over a steak marinating on the counterand the
diamond-inlaid tanto knife Kimura had confiscated from a local hood –
the same one Kenji had reclaimed on his sister’s behalf and
intended to flaunt at their next meeting.
“Getting
dinner ready?” Daiichi asked.
“Yeah. I
hope you’re not planning on joining me.”
The man
turned away with no comment. He stepped into the living room and
didn’t seem to find anything of interest. Then he took a quick peek
into the bedroom before withdrawing into the hallway.
“Well, I
think we're good here,” he said, smiling the wide smile of someone
who didn’t really want to be there.
Kenji nodded
and smiled back. He walked toward the entry and waited for Daiichito
follow. But as the inspector passedby the bathroom,he halted.“Oh,
mustn't forget!” he said.
Before Kenji
could stop him, Daiichi ducked inside and took a look around. Kenji
rushed after him, thinking up distractions. By the way the manwas
staring, it was obviously too late.
“What on
earth is this?” he asked.
Wrong
question, Kenji thought. The sudden urge to take this little man
and put his head through the wall was threatening his self-control.
“I don't
believe it!” Daiichi said. “Have you been washing clothes in
here?”
Kenji had
the sense to look at the ground, feigning deference and biting the
corner of his lip to hide the smile that was threatening to break
out. “Yes, “he managed at last. “As a matter of fact, I have.
Exactly. God, how embarrassing.”
“Mr. Ota,
while I doubt that this habit of yours has anything to do with the
water leaks, it sure isn't helping to prevent them. We have
industrial washing machines in the basement to take care of your
laundry needs. Why don't you use them instead of wasting water and
doing this in your own home?”
While he was
talking,Kenji had been staring at him, but now he glanced back at the
pile of clothes in time to notice a tiny thread of blood weaving its
way down the drain.
Daiichi’s
eyes were stretched wide in horror.
Great.
Kenji sensed that he was about to say something that would
undoubtedly evoke a negative reaction. His faithful wakazashiwas
stillhanging on the back of the bathroom door. It would only take two
seconds to grab it. One quick swingand thisannoying little creep
would be silenced forever.
“Oh,
that,” Kenji said, tracing his line of vision.
Daiichi
tilted his chin. “Exactly. What’s been going on here?”
“Relax,
Mr. Asano. I work part-time as a butcher. Iripped a carcass wide
openearlier today and had to rush home to changefor a date. Normally,
I wear an apron when I work…especially when there’s a mess to
clean up. But as you can tell, I left everything in the wash.”
Daiichi’s
eyes dropped to Kenji’s ripped abs and the claw marks tattooed on
his chest. His Adam's apple bobbed up and downwith audible swallows.
“Right…okay…great. I think we're done here,” he said. “But
if this happens again, I…well, never mind. Just finish what you
need to get done.”
“Thank
you,” Kenji said, smiling. “I always do.”
He shut the
door behind the maintenance inspector and peered through the keyhole.
As soon as Daiichi was out of sight, he leaned against the wall. This
time it had been a little too close. His confidence was making him
bold and careless. But at least now, he had a faithful ally –
someone who wouldvouch for his innocence, if it ever came to that.
Kenjiwiped
his damp forehead with the towel from his neck. He went into the
bedroom and mused over how easy it was to convince feeble-minded
people of anything. Their blind faith wouldn’t allow them to see
the worst in mankind. He knelt down in front of his clothes cupboard,
opened it and reached deep inside, grabbing hold of a small box
hidden behind his shoes and spare arsenal. It was heavy, and its
contents clinked as he pulled it out. He removed its lid and dropped
the watch on top of all the others. Then he stood back and looked
into the sink mirror.
“Hmmm…how
sad,” Kenji said aloud. “People just have too much faith these
days.”
