InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Smirking Revenge ❯ Money, Sex, Lies ( Chapter 13 )

A blue haze of cigarette smoke rolled about the room like an early morning mist. The scent of alcohol and sex were strong in the air, trademarks of the establishment. On stage a scantly clad woman gyrated to the beat of some pornographic rhythm to the appreciative leers and whistles from the crowd in front of her. She hooked her leg around the pole at the center of the stage and swung her body around it, a show for all to see. In a place like this there were no secrets and a man could be as invisible and nameless as he chose to be.

 

 

The sweaty faced patrons hogging up the front row, their eyes eagerly gawking upwards at the naked form swaying and thrusting just out of reach, were all mid-range business men. They had young wives and elementary school aged children at home. They lived in mid-sized detached houses that smelled of cooked beef and vegetables after a long day at the office. They were the white collar sort, the kind that worked their entire lives to prove something to the world and were never truly satisfied with what they ended up with.

 

 

These were the kind of men who sat front row in these types of establishments. Their greedy, beady eyes remained glued to the breasts and ass of every woman in the place, their pockets lined with low denomination bills that they threw on stage or tucked into an undergarment with shaky hands. They had every measure of happiness waiting at home for them and yet they chose this place of all places to spend their Thursday nights. These mid-range men who lived a life of meeting expectations were always the most eager to lose themselves in the spectacle. Their movements were predictable, their money dependable; they weren't the dangerous type.

 

 

The men who sat at the back, half-hidden within the shadows, their faces cast in an eerie glow by the red mood lighting were an entirely different story. No one ever saw them enter the club but they were always there, a constant fixture in the back corner. Their presence was as expected and dependable as the money from the middle managers and the strippers on stage. It was an unspoken rule that everyone understood from the moment they walked through the rich dark velvet curtain at the entrance - this was their domain. The moment you stepped inside you were in their world and they made the rules.

 

 

Most times it wasn't an issue. Every now and then a rowdy customer would be discreetly escorted outside and never seen again. For those who behaved themselves it wasn't a problem, but the feeling of their eyes settling on the back of your head could be unnerving nonetheless. A few of the waitresses could always be seen hanging near their table, flitting about like hummingbirds seeking nectar from a generous flower. The strippers, if they were smart, played to them too, coyly sitting at their table, whispering flirtations into their ears while pouring drinks with hands decorated by red acrylic nails.

 

 

The wisps of cigar smoke that curled up from their table hung about them like a wreath and the stench of fresh Cubans in the air was a daily fixture. They never said much. The table was usually quiet. The men dressed in dark suits crowded around it spoke in hushed tones and whispers about important things, illegal things, but no one paid them any mind. A stack of cards was usually passed around the table or laid off to one side forgotten. Sometimes they played Poker to pass the time.

 

 

This is how it was every day, every night at Seduction. The same table, the same men, the same patrons staring greedily up at the same dancers from the front row. Tonight was different though. Tonight a stranger sat at the table in the back corner, someone the regulars didn't recognize. He looked nervous; sweat beaded along his brow until he swiped it away with a quick jerky motion, using the back of his sleeve as a rag. He glanced at his watch, then at the door. His face frowned and he took a long sip from the glass of Scotch the waitress discreetly placed in front of him.

 

 

Glass drained he set it back down on the table, the ice cubes chinking against the crystal. The waitress bent down offering him an ample view of her pressed up cleavage and asked if he'd like another. He ignored her blatant attempt to use her body to extort more tips and nodded `yes'. She obliged with a simple nod of her head and flitted away to the bar, tray in hand.

 

 

The stranger didn't make eye contact with any of the others at the table and they appeared to pay him no mind. They continued with their game of cards, biting their cigars, sipping their gin and sake. As if operating with one mind they looked up simultaneously at the entrance. Their hands stilled, their mouths hung slightly ajar. The stranger looked over as well and swallowed, his nervousness seeming to increase tenfold.

 

 

A man stood there; quiet, unassuming, well dressed. His dark, calculating eyes drifted appreciatively around the club before settling on the table in the far back corner. The head hostess scurried up to him, offering with a humble bow to take his jacket. He obliged, casting it off like an after thought. She accepted it reverently and handed it off to another hostess to hang up while she walked dutifully next to him towards the back table. His pace was slow yet purposeful, as if time stood still just for him.

 

 

With a movement of his hand the hostess abruptly stopped speaking, bowed and turned back towards the bar, leaving him to his own devices. He approached the table slowly, his black leather shoes silent atop the gaudy red carpeted floor. By this time the others had stood from their seats and respectfully offered him a seat at the head. He waved their request away, his expression bored and unimpressed. They all appeared nervous now, but none more so than the stranger.

 

 

He stood shakily from his chair, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He bowed quick and deep, his head remaining low long after his body had risen. He stared humbly at the floor, unwilling or unable to look the newcomer in the eye. Only those at the table heard what happened next. The dirty beats of the pornographic music pumped loudly from the speakers on stage. The crowd around the pole was too enthralled to take any notice of the goings on at the back of the club. Even those men who sat at tables of their own were being entertained by girls instructed to keep their minds occupied.

 

 

“I have come to beg forgiveness,” the stranger blurted out without pretence.

 

 

The newcomer in his stunning black suit eyed him carefully, his expression giving away nothing. The stranger fumbled with his words, everything about him showing his express discomfort with the entire situation.

 

 

The waitress who'd returned with the Scotch refill caught sight of the scene at the table and abruptly turned around. With a flirtatious smile she handed the drink to one of the ragged middle aged drunks sitting along the bar and mouthed “This one's on me.” His jacket hung across the adjacent stool, the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his tie hung loosened about his neck. He leered at her suggestively and groped her behind when she walked by to tend to another customer. They were all the same - so fucking predictable.

 

 

Back at the table, that same one in the back corner, a large, burly man dressed in a black suit with a green tie was quietly dragging the lifeless body of the stranger out the back door of the club. No one took notice of the fact that there was a hole the size of a bullet in his forehead, or the tiny stream of blood dripping down his face. They were too preoccupied with their X-rated fantasies to notice that someone had just died within their midst.

 

 

The newcomer quietly, unassumingly, unscrewed the silencer from the end of his gun and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. The gun he returned to

some hidden place behind his back. The group collectively stared at him, afraid, intimidated and awed. It was obvious they respected him but whether it was a respect born out of true admiration or fear was impossible to tell. A large man standing next to the head of the table, still holding the stack of cards ready to be dealt in his hand, gestured once more to the seat next to him.

 

 

The newcomer shook his head and looked amiably around the club. His eyes settled on the stage for a brief moment, appreciating the naked beauty of the dancer. A moment later he abruptly abandoned the table and headed for the door. The hostess met him halfway, offering his coat and humble requests to stay for a drink. He ignored her. The coat he slipped over his shoulders as his eyes glanced once more at the girl on stage. He motioned to her with a flick of his wrist, the hostesses eyes followed.

 

 

His mouth barely moved to utter his command but whatever it was she nodded readily and bowed before departing towards the stage. A moment later the dancer was standing by his side, the hostess looking thrilled. She beamed up at him from her five foot nothing stature with yellow lipstick stained teeth and a face aged by years of wearing too much make up. His eyes looked the dancer up and down in appraisal, noting the high perkiness of her breasts, the taut lines of her stomach, the smooth, round curve of her ass. Something about her must have pleased him because he nodded once, draped his jacket over her shoulders and stepped out the door with the girl in tow.

 

 

The hostess waved goodbye, genially imploring him return soon to their fine establishment. The moment he left her smile faded and she shuffled towards the bar, obviously troubled. Anyone who'd been to the club enough times would realize that once the dancers left with him they never came back. The hostess had every reason to be troubled. She'd just lost one of her most popular girls and had no one to replace her. She scowled at a man lingering next to the bar when he cast a lewd comment her way and disappeared through a crimson velvet curtain into a back room.

 

 

At the table in the back corner an uncomfortable silence had descended upon the group. They exchanged apprehensive glances and sipped their drinks slowly. The man at the head shuffled the cards loudly before dealing them out, his expression grim.

 

 

“Did you know?”

 

 

The man abruptly stopped dealing and shook his head in resignation. His movements picked up again until the cards were distributed. Collecting his own pile he tapped them together and spread them in front of his eyes. Removing the cigar from his mouth he shook his head again.

 

 

“I never know what the Boss is gonna do anymore. That man does what he wants. I just stay out of his way.”

 

 

Someone whistled, a low, appreciative sound. They nodded in collective agreement. The Boss they called him. He was the scariest son of a bitch in Tokyo. There was no emotion in his eyes, no hesitation in his movements. He hadn't thought twice about killing that lackey for screwing up. Life, death, money, power, they were just words to him because he lived that existence every day. Nothing could touch him, no one dared to cross him.

 

 

The group continued on with their game of cards and attempted to forget the look on the lackey's face when he realized his number was up. The grim expression on all of their faces was testament enough that it wasn't working. Though not one of them voiced the thought aloud, they were all thankful the Boss didn't show himself often. On those rare occasions when he did, his stay was always mercifully short.

 

 

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The squad car rolled to a stop and parked alongside the curb in front of Kagome Higurashi's apartment. Kouga turned the engine off slowly and a dead silence settled over the car. Curious, he leaned across the front seat and glanced up at the complex through the passenger window. He made an odd sounding “huh” in the back of his throat before stuffing the keys in his jacket pocket and pulling open the driver's door.

 

 

“You comin' or not?” he demanded offhandedly.

 

 

Inuyasha cast him a flat glare and exited the car, turning his collar up against the biting wind. His eyes stared down the street at the lights in the distance that signalled which late-night shops were still open. The coffee shop she'd taken him to was just out of sight, but it wouldn't be open at this time anyhow.

 

 

I should've gone after her that day.

 

 

The harsh realization that he could've prevented this if he hadn't let his pride get in the way burned him more than the blistering wind that brought the promise of a long, frigid winter on its back. He looked dejectedly at the steps leading up to the front door and hesitated. Could he go back there? The place would be full of her. Her scent, her things, the memories would be inescapable once he walked through her door…

 

 

Kouga jogged up the stairs, taking them two and a time, and Inuyasha found himself following reluctantly despite his reservations. If he was going to have any hope of finding her, any hope at all, he had to get over the memories of Kikyo that continued to haunt him. He hadn't been able to do anything for her, but Kagome was still alive as far as he knew. Saving her was the only way he could redeem himself, to both of them. He just had to suck it up and go in there. He could deal with the pain later.

 

 

Sensing his partner's hesitancy, Kouga cast an encouraging glance over his shoulder. “Don't worry. It'll be like ripping off a band-aid. Just do it quick and deal with the pain so we can get down to business.”

 

 

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed at him. Yeah a band-aid the size of fucking Texas wrapped around the hairiest leg possible.

 

 

The last thing he needed was a pep talk from that bastard. His pride still felt bruised over the fact that it'd been Kouga of all people who'd pulled him back from the edge and Kouga who'd kick started their investigation. Without him he'd still be drinking away his sorrows in his bathroom, covered in his own filth and vomit, or dead. He owed the smug asshole a really big thank you when all was said and done with but for him to do anything more than tolerate him at the moment was asking too much.

 

 

Both detectives succumbed to a body-shaking shiver the moment they stepped inside the warm confines of the stairwell. From the heating grate set into the far wall came a loud clicking sound. Buckets of humid, too-warm air pumped out of it and into the tiny entry way. Kouga stamped his shoes against the weather strip rug, tossing off the snow and slush stubbornly clinging to them. Inuyasha ignored the snow on his and gazed up the stairwell in contemplative silence.

 

 

“Which floor?”

 

 

“Three,” he replied without hesitation.

 

 

Kouga shot him an uneasy look but stuffed his hands into his pockets and started up the flight of stairs to their right. His footfalls echoed dull and pronounced throughout the stairwell, each successive thump marking the fact that they were one step closer to finding her. He was about halfway up the first flight of stairs before the sounds of Inuyasha's shoes could be heard below, his steps slow and deliberate. He kept his head down and moved like a disobedient child being sent to the principal's office for punishment.

 

 

By the time he reached the third floor Kouga was already pacing restlessly up and down the hall.

 

 

“So which apartment is it?” he demanded as soon as the stairwell door clicked shut behind him.

 

 

Inuyasha shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew his key ring, the metal keys jingling loudly in the otherwise muted hallway. Stopping in front of apartment 305 he separated one key from the others and slipped it into the lock. If Kouga was surprised he had a key to her apartment it didn't show on his face. His expression remained carefully impassive as he waited.

 

 

The lock turned easily and Inuyasha pushed the door open with a soft grunt and the edge of his shoulder. Holding his breath he took a step inside and flicked on the light to the main entry way. The warm glow dimly lit the short hallway leading to the kitchen, the peach toned walls seeming to give off a warmth of their own.

 

 

Inuyasha took a few steps forward, his footfall echoing loudly on the tile floor, resonating with the knowledge that the apartment laid empty. He felt Kouga following close behind but paid him no mind as he made his way towards the kitchen. The front door slammed shut, the unexpected noise making his shoulders jump and his ears twitch. He cast a glare over his shoulder at Kouga who shrugged apologetically.

 

 

Stopping next to the countertop he slid his hand along the smooth granite surface. With a snap yellow artificial light invaded the kitchen making it appear cold and unwelcoming. It was funny how with her gone the place lacked life of any kind. It felt dead and lonely, its usual vibrancy completely gone.

 

 

 

“I'll start with the living room,” Kouga muttered and stalked past, flicking on lights as he went.

 

 

Inuyasha faltered next to the countertop and gripped it for support as her scent and the memories that came with it assaulted his senses. His amber eyes stared hard at the small table built for two across from him. There, on that very chair, she'd straddled him and he'd exposed his true self to her. He'd let her in before he even realized how deep in it he was. His ears twitched as they remembered the way her fingertips had felt, and the intoxicating teases of her tongue…

 

 

He shook his head and backed away from the counter, determined to focus on the task at hand. Kagome was depending on him. He had time to reminisce later. Catching sight of the mail heaped carelessly next to the sink, he flicked through it but found nothing of interest. It seemed he wasn't the only one to experience the unwanted friendship of creditors. After casting a quick glance around the rest of the kitchen he decided that there was nothing of importance there that could help him and moved on to the bedroom.

 

 

While passing by the bathroom he caught sight of Kouga seemingly preoccupied with rifling through Kagome's medicine cabinet. He smirked inwardly as he pictured how she'd react at finding the wolf so enthralled by her collection of feminine products. He'd been on the receiving end of her fury more than he liked to admit. It wasn't a pleasant storm to weather that was for damn sure!

 

 

Inuyasha stopped at the door of her bedroom and rested his shoulder against the jam with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Her scent was strongest here. It was apparent, even to someone who didn't know her as he did, that she spent most of her time in this room. If she wasn't sleeping she was reading, sitting cross legged atop her bed working on her next piece, fooling around with him. His heart jerked painfully in his chest and he stepped across the threshold into her space.

 

 

The city lights cast an eerie glow across the floor and illuminated the suitcase lying open on the bed. Rich looking dark sweaters and a pair of jeans overflowed from its interior and escaped down the sides to mingle with the assorted piles of clothes strewn across her bedspread.

 

 

She was planning to go without me...he realized with a sudden twinge of disappointment.

 

 

His eyes surveyed the suitcase's contents with an expert attention to detail. He reached down and trailed his fingers across the lone unfolded sweater draped lazily atop the rest. It was soft to the touch and he recognized it instantly - it was that deep purple one she liked to wear so much. She'd worn it out on a couple of their “dates”. He'd always catch her running her hands over her arms, discreetly caressing its softness. She said she liked the way it felt against her skin, he had to agree.

 

 

Dropping the shirt, he took another turn and stepped towards her desk. He shuffled quickly through the scattered papers there, his eyebrow cocking at a few gossip magazines discreetly hidden beneath several scholarly journals. After a few minutes of fruitless rummaging he realized with a sinking sense of disappointment that there was nothing of value within the room; nothing that could lead him to her or even point him in the right direction.

 

 

How does someone just disappear without anyone noticing? he wondered tersely, frustrated by the fact that they'd gotten nowhere.

 

 

You didn't notice, his mind reminded him in a taunting jeer. A deep frown creased his forehead. The voice was right of course. He hadn't noticed until the bastard had mailed him that picture. If he'd never opened that envelope would he still be waiting for her to come back, too bolstered by his pride and ego to even pick up the phone?

 

 

Kouga stepped silently into the room and cast a quick glance at the suitcase lying forgotten atop the bed.

 

 

“Was she going on a trip?” he asked with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

 

 

Inuyasha shrugged. “We were supposed to go to Hokkaido for the weekend.”

 

 

“Hokkaido huh?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth appreciatively. “I hear that place is pretty romantic this time of year with all the hot springs and stuff.”

 

 

Inuyasha ignored the blatant attempt to goad him and maintained a temperamental silence. Looking dejected Kouga scratched aimlessly at the back of his head and heaved a heavy sigh.

 

 

“Find anything that'll help us out?”

 

 

Silence.

 

 

Un-phased he strolled back into the hall and called back over his shoulder, “Yeah I didn't find nothin' either. Got any ideas on where we should look next?”

 

 

Alone, Inuyasha closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her scent filled his lungs, intoxicated his brain and wrapped its warmth around him like a tender caress. He let it out slowly, savouring the faint taste of her in his mouth. The finality of her absence hit him hard when he opened his eyes and saw only shadows and forgotten items lingering around him.

 

 

Forgotten clothes, forgotten work, a forgotten life...

 

 

Her apartment was stuck in stasis, frozen in time at the exact moment she'd disappeared and he was frozen right along with it. He understood, without any hint of melodrama, that he wouldn't survive the rest of his life without her. He hadn't known Kikyo long enough to lose his heart to her. The guilt and depression he felt over her death was because he'd failed to protect her. He'd screwed up and she'd paid the price for his failure with her life.

 

 

Things with Kagome were completely different. Losing her…just wasn't an option. His heart was too far in it to get out unscathed and he was glad for it, glad that there was finally something in his life worth fighting for, worth dying for. It made him feel more like a man and less like some inhuman thing that'd been used, wasted and beaten until it was dispensable without a second thought.

 

 

Taking one last turn about the room his eyes fell on a collection of articles she'd been working on, stacked somewhat neatly on her desk. He glanced at the title of the first one - something about a senator and illegal dealings. Next to the stack of papers a tiny square of wood grain peeked through the clutter. He stared at it for a moment, trying to decide if the space normally occupied by her laptop was vacant because it'd been stolen or because...

 

 

With a look of grim determination on his face he stalked purposefully down the hall into the kitchen. Kouga had his head buried in the fridge, perusing its contents for something edible. He glanced overtop the open door when he noticed Inuyasha watching him.

 

 

“Get your keys dog shit we're leaving.”

 

 

“Huh?” The fridge door slammed shut and the sounds of Kouga retrieving his jacket from the countertop could be heard down the small hallway leading to the entrance. He stretched his arms over his head and pulled the jacket on as he followed Inuyasha to the door.

 

 

“You got a lead or something?” he asked while fishing inside his pocket for the car keys. They jingled noisily when he pulled them out, fumbled them and almost dropped them to the tile floor.

 

 

Inuyasha cast a scowl over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. Slipping his own set of keys out of his pocket he wrenched the door open and stepped into the hall.

 

“Yeah, you could say that. We're makin' a stop at the Asahi Shimbun building.”

 

 

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The elevator slowed to a halt at the thirtieth floor. A tiny bell chimed and the brass doors, polished to a mirror like finish, spread open. He stepped out, his leather loafers soundless on the richly carpeted floor. Hands stuffed casually into his pockets he headed for the office at the end of the hall, his every move reeking of self-importance. As he passed by he glanced over at his secretary's desk.

 

 

It was strange to see it vacant. Normally she'd be frantically typing away at the keyboard, pen wedged between her teeth, ignoring the phone that was always ringing off the hook. She never stopped, never left her desk and was always there well past closing. He hadn't expected her to be here, it was well after hours, but it felt strange to find her missing all the same. He jingled his keys in his pocket and made a mental note to buy her something nice for the holidays.

 

 

The silence in the darkened hallway suddenly felt overloud in his ears and he became acutely aware of his movements. He stopped jingling his keys and reached for the chrome handle extending from the frosted glass door at the end of the hall. The door led to his office which was half the size of the building and had the best panoramic view in the city. He'd designed it himself - it exuded power, wealth and expensive taste, just like him. With a tiny creak the door swung wide to reveal a figure darkened by the evening shadows sitting atop his desk, one leg crossed over the other.

 

 

Breathing deeply he let out a satisfied sigh and pushed the door shut behind him with the sole of his shoe. The moment it closed his finger slipped between the expensive silk tie at his throat and the collar of his dress shirt, tugging it loose. He watched her watching him, noting the tense arch of her shoulders, the curving frown of her ruby lips, the way her hands clutched at the edge of the desk until her knuckles showed white. She hated him, she loathed the very fact that he existed and yet here she was, playing whore for him just like she always did.

 

 

He stepped purposefully towards his desk. His hand snapped the top two buttons loose on his collar letting the cool air swath against his exposed throat. He smirked as he drew closer and she uncrossed her legs. He fit perfectly between them. Catching her jaw in his hand he forced her eyes to meet his. The shudder of revulsion that ran through her excited him.

 

 

“Ahh Kagura,” he breathed, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

 

 

As he spoke he slowly drew out the pins holding her hair up, one by one. The glossy dark locks slipped slowly down to cover her shoulders. He ran his fingers through them appreciatively before snagging a fistful and bringing her throat to his lips. He felt himself grow hard at her gasp of pain as he wrenched her neck to the side and bathed her neck in sensual kisses.

 

 

“It's her. I'm certain of it this time,” she managed to push out through clenched teeth. He smiled against her skin and pulled back, his expression dark.

 

 

“You're certain my pet? I wouldn't want a repeat of last time.”

 

 

She visible shrank back at the dark gleam that entered his eyes and vigorously shook her head. “No, no,” she stuttered in a pleading tone. “I made sure it was her. We finally have her.”

 

 

His grim smile was the most genuine he could muster as his mind toyed with that new tidbit of information. Today hadn't been a particularly pleasant day, but knowing that he finally had the bitch in his clutches, to know that she was his for the taking, certainly made the rest of it seem inconsequential.

 

 

He leered hungrily at Kagura, his cock hard, his body desperately needing a release of some kind. Though she never denied him he could read the fear and loathing in her eyes as clear as if she'd said it aloud. It'd taken nearly a year to break her but it'd been well worth the effort.

 

 

Snatching her up by the hair he pressed a hungry, bruising kiss against her lips and forced her back atop the desk. She didn't resist his movements but there was a long festering hatred in her eyes when she looked up at him. It was exactly how he liked his women - beautiful, angry and vulnerable; she played the part so well.

 

 

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Author's Note: What? An update so soon? You betcha!

 

This chapter was done a lot quicker than I thought it would be so I decided to post it. I hope you dig it! Thank you to everyone who sent me reviews these past couple weeks (and since the beginning!). Your continued support is what convinced me to get this next chapter up as fast as I did.

 

I'd love to hear your thoughts on our mysterious villain. I'm curious as to who you think it is, though I have a couple guesses ;)

 

Until next time…

 

Langus :)