36. Akira

CHAPTER 36

Akira

" J ust when I thought you were capable of being nice."

Nice.

Nice.

Kyle should know better. Akira wasn't nice, or kind, or any of the things that Kyle needed from the type of man whom he'd one day give his heart to. Because Akira knew that was what Kyle wanted from him, and he wanted it too with a fierceness that stabbed painfully at his chest, but he had to be the responsible one in the face of Kyle's recklessness.

No, he couldn't be that man. But he could be the one who kept Kyle safe.

Akira retrieved his runepad from his pocket before he'd even heard the footsteps fade from Kyle's departing, upset self. It was a risk to send him out unprotected into the city, and something Akira had actively prevented for the last several nights.

But Kyle couldn't be allowed to stay here, not with what was about to happen.

"Epsilon," Theta said as he answered his call. His smile, long and languid, showed off impossibly white teeth. "What a pleasure to hear from you."

"I'm about to be raided," Akira told him. There was no time for pleasantries, and for that he was relieved. He hated the damn things.

Master Theta blinked. "Are you sure?"

"My police contact is reliable. If she says the cops are coming for House Epsilon, the cops are coming for House Epsilon."

"Benedict's got some fucking balls," Theta muttered darkly. "He has to know he's beginning to upset the Coterie."

Beginning to . The attacks House Epsilon had already endured should have incurred the wrath of the Coterie, but Akira suspected that rather more leeway was being granted here as a result of his relatively junior status, and their fear of getting on the wrong side of Mayor Benedict Mackenroth. He was somewhat gratified to know that there was indeed a line that would be drawn between inconvenience caused to a mildly disobedient Master, and an insult the Coterie would not tolerate.

But would it be before or after his House went up in smoke?

"I need a favour."

Theta perked up. "Of course."

"Kyle," Akira said, pretending not to notice the way Theta's expression devolved into an exasperated scowl. "Can I send him over?"

"Epsilon..."

"Please."

Theta sighed. "Fine."

Akira was well-used to managing his old employer. Plain old begging worked far better on him than complex manipulation, and Akira was capable of swallowing his pride – and anything else asked of him – if it got him what he wanted.

"Please don't tell Kyle about the raid," he said. "I don't want him returning before the police have left."

Master Theta let out another long sigh, the kind that conveyed just how irksome he thought this all was. "I'll keep your sidepiece out of handcuffs, Epsilon. But I really don't know why you can't just hand him over and be done with it."

Hand him over. The same expression Mackenroth had used in the threatening note plastered to the door of House Epsilon. As if Kyle was merely a possession to be surrendered.

"Go on, then," Theta urged, irritation lacing his tone. "You need to make sure you're clean."

I know , Akira wanted to say, or something bitterly sarcastic. But Master Theta had been the one who'd taught him what to do when the police arrived, to know when to talk and when to remain silent, and how much money was appropriate for a bribe without overplaying your hand.

Just one more survival skill necessary on Xerxes.

The call ended and Akira reached for the alarm button under his desk, slamming his palm to it to set the House into a state of efficient preparation. On the floors below, he knew that his men would be instantly ending sessions and ushering disgruntled clients out of the back door with promises of free services on their return. Pulling on clothes and hiding toys. Wiping down surfaces and changing beds. Making themselves presentable so that when the Xerxian police arrived after the ten minutes of advance notice Akira had bought them with the monthly payments to his contact, there was no evidence of what House Epsilon really was.

Everyone knew, of course. Half of the raiding cops would have visited as clients at some time or another, whether this House or one of the others, and there was little else such a building could be.

But there would be no evidence of illegal prostitution shoved in their faces, and that meant everyone could play the game with the scripted roles they'd been assigned.

The police pretended to be acting on a tip. The House staff acted shocked at both the accusations and the ‘unexpected' raid. The police threw their weight around, made vague threats, and then left, only returning when they needed to remind either a House Master of the necessity of paying bribes or the Mayoral office of the necessity of increasing their crime-fighting funding. Rinse and repeat.

Only…that wasn't how it happened this time.

Akira was just rising from behind his desk, ready to descend to the ground floor and play out his own part of indignant business owner who runs a respectable hotel, thank you very much , when the door to his office burst open with enough force that it bounced back on the three police officers shoving their way inside.

"Akira Miyasaki?" asked one of the cops, a sternly trimmed moustache failing to divert attention from the unattractive redness of his eyes and gauntness of his cheeks that indicated habitual drug use. "You're under arrest."

Half standing and half still trapped in his chair, Akira froze, stunned.

He blinked at the police officer who had tossed his name out like it was common knowledge. The others swarmed towards him, and Akira was unnerved enough that cold metal had been snapped around one of his wrists before he could stop it.

His hands were drawn behind his back.

Akira twisted sharply, putting the desk at his back and using its edge to pry the man off him. Predictably, the cop let go rather than allow his arm to be jammed between Akira's weight and the heavy wood, and Akira deftly flicked the open side of the handcuffs into his bound hand so he could use the clawed tip as a makeshift weapon.

"Keep resisting," drawled the officer with the moustache, glancing casually at the huddle of House Epsilon employees who were watching from the corridor with wide eyes, "and I've been given orders to arrest your staff as well."

The man hadn't even moved from the doorway. Nor did he attempt to help his colleagues as they grabbed for Akira with fumbling hands that he could have easily avoided if the threat hadn't stopped him cold.

Of course there was no resisting this. These weren't underworld thugs Akira could incapacitate: they were Xerxian police, granted the authority of city law. If he didn't go with them, he'd become a fugitive and unable to step foot in his House ever again, yet it was more difficult than he'd expected to stand still and allow both his hands to be cuffed behind his back.

They frisked him quickly and efficiently, and removed both his watch and runepad. While the latter was tossed contemptuously back onto the desk, the officer slid Akira's expensive watch into his own pocket with smug glee.

Akira let out a long, wary breath.

He'd been picked up by the cops before. Most whores in Xerxes had; it was how the police reminded them of their place and got free blowjobs out of the deal, because who wouldn't go to their knees to avoid being charged with a crime that would otherwise see them doing serious time in the shitty Xerxian prison?

But this felt different.

Serious. Deliberate.

They'd come straight to his office and they had known his name.

And even though the political power of the Coterie should have protected him – House Masters didn't get arrested – here Akira was, being marched down the stairs and through the front doors, his uniformed escorts walking deliberately slowly to ensure they drew out his humiliation.

Staff and passersby alike turned to watch them pass. Shock and intrigue coloured their expressions, and whispers soon echoed up the street. Half the city would be awash with the scandalous gossip come dawn, and it was the public nature of it all, more than anything else, which made him seethe.

"Master!"

"Stand down, Misha," Akira said sharply as the man hopped into their path and did his best to block access to the waiting police car. Despite his small stature, he stood tall with determination, his eyes flashing with as much anger as they did glitter.

"You can't do this to him! He's done nothing wrong!"

"Stand down, " Akira snapped and Mish faltered, his face falling. But he hadn't seen the way the lead officer had dropped his hand to the gun at his belt, or the callous way Akira had witnessed the Xerxian police dispatch nuisances in the past. He would not have any of his men be hurt because of him.

"Get back inside , " he added through gritted teeth, "and wait for your manager to return."

He didn't dare say Kyle's name aloud but Misha seemed to understand, a flicker of worry passing over his face before he gave a sullen nod and stepped back. Akira was shoved carelessly into the car, ducking his head just in time to save it from being smacked into the doorframe, and then awkwardly used his bound hands to shift along the bench-like seating he found inside. As he'd expected, all three officers followed him, the junior two sitting either side and the one with the moustache taking the centre seat opposite his own. He immediately lit up a cigarette.

"Back to the precinct," the man told the car. It gave an electric whine as it stirred to life, peeling away from the steps of House Epsilon with a slight jerkiness to its automatic navigation that demonstrated its age.

Through the tinted windows, Akira could see the strained necks and eager faces of the crowd he'd attracted trying to get one final glimpse at him as he was driven away. He averted his own gaze, not willing to be gawked at, but the smirks on the faces of his companions were harder to ignore.

He raised his chin. "You can't charge me with anything."

"Those marks on your wrist say we can," the officer remarked, taking a long drag on his cigarette. The car's recirculated air system was doing nothing to dispel the smoke. He nudged Akira's leg with his boot. "What, Universal isn't good enough for you? Had to scrawl on your body in Chinese shit?"

Akira gave him a blank stare. The kanji tattoo would net him a harsh fine, but nothing that would justify an arrest.

"And then what?" he demanded. "Is there any point to this act of inconvenience, or will you have me wait with bated breath?"

The other man chuckled, rolling his shoulders as if getting comfortable in his seat, and didn't bother to respond.