Yakuza Cleaner Novels & Stories

Kaname scolded him, saying that the question implied Yuto was expecting a negative report from the investigation. Ryu chuckled lightly. "Of course not. There's no one in this world who is perfectly clean and without flaw. But we tolerate a certain amount of dirt. As long as it can be swept and disposed of, it won’t be an issue. In fact, Kuryugumi would even be willing to help 'clean it up.' Do you have any stubborn 'dirt' that we should know about?" Kyoko glanced at the back of Ryu's head. She couldn't help but admire him silently. Ryu's words were too smooth. She understood why Kenji had sent Ryu to handle such discussions.

WILLIAMS POV The man's knife was coming at me fast, but before it I could evade his attack and disarm him, someone yanked his arm. The knife clattered to the ground. "Let me go! I'll kill you! You son of a bitch!" Rosetta gave him a kick at the gut sending him thumbling over a few meters away from where we stood. He immediately vomited blood as soon as her heels made contact with his gut. "Bitch! You will never get away with this Williams Carter. You monster! You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" The cleaner was yelling and thrashing like a wild thing, and was suddenly about to hit Rosetta. I pushed her out of the way and punched the cleaner right in the face, and he dropped like a sack of pot

“You should have announced yourself.” “I’m sorry, sir.” He glanced at Myla. “All clear. Go ahead, ma’am.” Myla smiled politely at the cleaner. “Sorry about that.” “Oh no, no, it’s alright,” the woman said quickly. “He's just doing his job.” "Hurry up and get out of here, lady," the guard snapped, stepping between them and blocked the cleaner from looking at Myla. "This is a restricted zone now." The cleaner nodded quietly, her head remaining low as she shuffled her cart toward the corner.

Others with thinly veiled resentment. I didn’t care either way. I adjusted my cufflinks, the crisp linen of my tailored suit a stark contrast to the filth of this place. I wasn’t here to blend in. I was here to hunt. And my prey sat right in front of me. Takeshi Sato. He was a Yakuza associate. Greedy, sloppy and weak. The bastard was drowning in liquor, his arm draped around a half-dressed woman who laughed at something he said, even though the light in her eyes was long gone. He hadn’t noticed me yet.

My knife was directly on her neck and I almost got deafened by her shriek. "Who are you?" I asked with his knife on her neck. "Oh my gosh, i-i am really sorry, i was here, i was hired. Oh gosh when did cleaning become this dangerous. I thought i had enough of the mafia. Dear lord!" She cried as she rubbed her hands together. I released her before i looked at her. Her hands and her legs were in the same situation. They were shaking like it was a minus degree Celsius. "I am just a cleaner hired by Sir Mason," I could hear her strong Italian accent.

Jax chuckled softly and slid one thick finger between my slick folds, teasing my entrance before pushing it slowly inside me. “Oh fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so tight and wet. This pussy is sucking my finger in.” I had to press my forehead against the cool shelf to keep from making noise. His finger moved in and out slowly at first, curling just right to hit a spot that made sparks shoot through my body. Then he added a second finger, stretching me gently. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Take my fingers like a good girl. Imagine if the guys over there knew I was fingering the cute cleaner behind the towels right now.”

Complaints, insults, excuses, frustration. “That asshole plays dirty.” “The ref was bought.” “We shouldn’t have lost like that.” I clench my jaw as I read, close the chat without thinking too much because I don’t want to stay there, don’t want to keep going over the same thing, don’t want to think about the game or him, so I set my phone aside and take a deep breath, trying to clear my head, even if it’s just for a while. Tonight I’m only going to do one thing, drink enough to not feel anything and leave early before it all becomes unbearable, no drama, no complications, not giving him more space than he already takes.

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Tsukishima Kaen.”

I run my hand through my hair, pulling slightly on the ponytail. "Let's not panic yet. Tell your girl to approach with caution while I dig up more information. If we play our cards well enough, we won't even have to kill him ourselves. The Yakuza are known for taking out their trash… Permanently." "Let me know when you know more." "Yes, Boss."

“You’re still breathing? That’s a mistake.” Bianca’s voice didn’t sound like her own. It was a low, vibrating growl that rattled the remaining glass in the hallway. She stepped over the vault door—a slab of reinforced steel she’d just ripped from its hinges like it was a piece of wet cardboard. Smoke curled around her bare ankles. The air tasted like copper and burnt plastic. “Target in sight!” the first Cleaner shouted, his voice cracking. He raised a tactical rifle, the laser sight dancing wildly across Bianca’s chest. “Wait… what the hell is she?”