This was a terrible idea. Tamiko knocked back yet another drink. How stupid was she to think she could walk into yakuza hangouts and get info for her story? Why would some hardened gangster be willing to cough up details on the murder of the notorious Boss Anjo? She had to do research to write a well-informed article on the underworld, and no one who knew anything would talk to her. Those she had tried talking to had called her a prostitute, or worse. This bar was her last shot.

"Here," the attractive bartender said in English, setting down a glass filled with sake. "This is on the house. My name's Karen, tell me if you need anything." She sashayed away, her gold-covered ass swaying seductively.

Tamiko smiled wanly as she stared into the glass. At least the bartender was nice, but free drinks weren't going to help. Can't even finish my first assignment. The paper's going to fire me.

"What are you drinking?" The deep, masculine voice shocked Tamiko out of her despair. Holy shit, she almost blurted as she surveyed the voice's owner. He had bleach-blond hair, a goatee, multiple facial scars and piercings, flamboyant clothes, and unsinkable confidence. He was drop-dead gorgeous. And he's talking to me.

"Sake," she finally replied.

"What brings a woman like you to a place like this?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her as he lit a cigarette.

"I'm a reporter. A boss named Anjo was murdered and I'm covering the story. Can I have one?" she eyed the cigarette.

"You shouldn't smoke."

"In 2001, women can smoke if they want."

"Not if they don't want to die young."

"What about you?"

"I've lived too long already." Their hands touched as he handed her a cigarette. The contact thrilled Tamiko so much that she didn't notice she was holding the lit end.

"So you like pain too.

"Oh!" she dropped the cigarette and instinctively moved her burnt fingers to her mouth. Smirking, the blond pulled her hand towards him, capturing her reddened fingers in a kiss.

Maybe today's not a total loss after all, Tamiko thought dreamily. My job, she groaned inwardly.

"I can't stay," she finally said, yanking her hand back.

"Why not?" the blond's eyes glittered.

"I have to get info on the Anjo murder. Ugh, why am I even trying? No one will talk to me." Dammit, don't cry now.

"Interview me. I'll tell you everything you want to know." The mystery man smiled at her. "Come back here tomorrow night.

"Thank you so much!" She leapt off the stool and started mentally running through questions. "Wait," she turned around. "Sorry I was rude, I'm Tamiko. What's your name?"

"Is that important?" He blew smoke out of his cheeks. "Have a good night, Tamiko.

Unable to respond, Tamiko grinned widely and left. Halfway to her hotel, she gasped as she realized who he was. He was none other than Kakihara, a well-known sadist-masochistic yakuza. Maybe he only invited her back to torture her to death. But somehow she knew she could trust him. Somehow she knew he wasn't a monster.