Ice Blue

  “That doesn’t narrow it down very much. Maybe I can help you remember.”

  “You can’t help me remember what I don’t know,” she said nervously. Where the hell was Taka? Why had he left her with this junior psycho?

  Reno’s smile was chilling. He had a stunning face—not as elegant as Taka’s, but younger, more impish. Except that there was absolutely nothing playful about him.

  “I’m very good at helping people remember what they think they never knew. Taka might have foolish scruples about inflicting pain, but I’m not so troubled by manners.” Reno ran his eyes over her again. “I don’t think it would take long at all. The problem is, I’m not as experienced as Taka, and I’d leave marks. I might even make a mistake, go too far, and then we’d have a problem.”

  “Getting rid of the body?” she countered, rallying.

  He shook his head. “I have plenty of people to help me with that kind of work. No, the problem is that Taka wouldn’t like it.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I am. I don’t like you. I don’t like what you’ve done to my cousin, and I’d be very happy to hurt you because of it.”

  “I haven’t done anything to your cousin!”

  He poured the beer into the glass and held it toward her in a mocking toast. “Kampei,” he said. “And you’ve fucked him.” He laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. I don’t mean literally. Of course he fucked you—you’re pretty enough in a conventional American way, and Taka has a soft heart.”

  “A soft heart? Do you even know your cousin?”

  “A softer heart than mine,” he amended. “If he hadn’t been squeamish he probably could have found out what he needed to know from you days ago.”

  “I don’t know where the temple is.”

  Reno rose from the table, pushing the chair away. “Let me see if I can help you remember,” he said, starting toward her.

  “Get away from her!” Taka’s sharp voice stopped him.

  Reno turned, smiling innocently, answering in Japanese. Taka was standing in the doorway, and suddenly Reno looked like a naughty child compared to the chilling menace in his older cousin.

  “You can speak English, since you already have,” he snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Trying to scare her into telling us what she knows. Time is running out, cousin, and you’ve tried everything else, haven’t you?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  “Sex can be as good a way of finding out information as torture, little cousin,” Taka said briefly, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him.

  “Hey!” Summer protested weakly.

  “Then maybe we should both have a go at her, just to see if there’s something she’s forgotten. She’s not my type, but I can put aside my standards…”

  Taka hit him. The blow was so fast, so shocking that Reno had no time to duck. The rage in the room was palpable, and Summer dived to cover the urn, afraid the room was about to erupt into violence.

  But Reno just stood there, blood dripping from his split lip. “Okay, cousin, she’s yours,” he said easily. “I’ve never known you to be so possessive before. You want some beer?”

  Taka was breathing heavily, and for a moment Summer wondered whether he’d hit Reno again. And wondered why her reaction to the sudden violence had been so visceral. It had been primal, possessive. And incredibly erotic. And then his shoulders relaxed. “Yes. What about you, Su-chan?”

  For a moment the entire room froze. Taka’s use of the affectionate name had been instinctive, shocking all three of them. Reno went to the cupboard and brought out two more glasses. He sat down and poured the drinks, one for Taka, one for Summer, and set the bottle back down.

  Summer rose from the futon, holding the kimono around as she walked to the table. Instead of taking the glass of beer Taka held out for her, she picked up the bottle instead, handing Reno his glass and then refilling it for him. He blinked those extraordinary fake green eyes, and then a faint smile curved his mouth. “Kampei,” he said again, toasting her. And this time most of the mockery was gone.

  She took her glass of beer and turned back to the futon, when Taka’s sudden hiss of breath stopped her. “Holy motherfucker!” Reno said in a tone of wonder.

  She whirled around, almost splashing some of the beer on her kimono. “What’s wrong?”

  Taka handed her glass to Reno, took her shoulders in his strong hands and turned her around again. “I’m an idiot,” he said in a low voice. “It was the wrong kimono.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His hands were on her, impersonal, tracing the painting on the back of the garment. “It’s been there all the time.” His touch followed the curve of her hip, and she shivered. “That’s White Crane Mountain.” His hand cupped the side of her butt. “There’s the torii that would lead to the temple, and there’s even a white bird. Do you have a map?”

  “Of course,” Reno said, pushing away from the table.

  “Take off the kimono, Summer,” Taka said, grabbing at the shoulders to pull it from her.

  She grabbed back. “I’m not wearing anything underneath it!” she protested.

  “Americans,” Reno muttered under his breath, stomping from the room. A moment later he was back, tossing a cotton yukata at her. “Put this on and I’ll find your boyfriend a map.”

  She grabbed the blue-and-white cotton and started for the bathroom, but Taka’s hands were still on her shoulders. “You can change here.”

  “I’m not—!” But he’d already slipped the kimono off her shoulders, and with a shriek she pulled Reno’s over her nude body.

  Reno laughed, saying something in Japanese, doubtless another insult, Summer thought as she tied the sash around her waist.

  “I told you, hands off,” Taka said in English.

  Well, maybe it hadn’t been that insulting, Summer thought, turning around. Reno had tossed the priceless antique kimono to the floor and Taka laid out Hana-san’s present in its place. The familiar painting, one Summer had known most of her life, suddenly took on new meaning as Taka spread a map beside it.

  “Grandfather was right,” Reno said. “She did tell you where it was.”

  “And I was right. She didn’t know,” Taka retorted. “Look at this, Summer. The mountain Hana-san painted is right there—” he pointed at the map “—and the torii gate is lower down, just outside the town of Tonazumi. The ruins of the shrine must be somewhere between.”

  “Good thing it’s not been that bad a winter. There can be snow in the mountains,” Reno said.

  “You think a little snow will stop someone like the Shirosama?”

  “That crazy old coot? He’s harmless.”

  “No,” Summer said. “He’s not.”

  Reno looked at her for a long, contemplative moment, then back at Taka. “I’m going out,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be back in the morning. We can work out the details then.” He was already at the door, shoving his feet back into his boots, putting the sunglasses down over his extraordinary eyes. “You can use my bed,” he added with a grin, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

  22

  “I’ll use Reno’s bed,” Taka said absently, still staring at the kimono. “You can take the futon.”

  “Why? Is his bed as scary as his toilet?”

  He turned to look at her. Her encounter with Reno didn’t seem to have daunted her, but then, she wasn’t easily daunted. He didn’t like to see her wrapped in Reno’s yukata. More of that irrational macho bullshit that was running through his veins recently. He still couldn’t believe he’d hit his cousin, for suggesting something they’d actually done when they were younger. But that had just been sex with a willing young woman, and Taka understood sex very well. He just didn’t understand what was going on between him and Summer Hawthorne.

  He could blame his mysterious American father for it, he supposed. His Japanese
side was much more pragmatic; sex was healthy, athletic, not to be confused with practicalities like marriage and business and the important things in life. He preferred his sex undiluted with emotions, feelings, and up until now he’d managed that very well.

  His future wife would be perfect for that. She was exquisite, graceful, controlled and athletic in bed. They would have the perfect marriage, and his grandfather, if he couldn’t accept Taka, might finally accept his children.

  Unfortunately, his grandfather could go fuck himself, as Taka had politely suggested just an hour ago. The old man had connections, including his brother, Great-uncle Hiro, and once he knew Taka had returned to Japan, he’d tracked down his cell phone number, an impressive feat. A mistake, however. Taka had been too concerned with catching Reno before he came home to find Summer in his apartment, and demands about marriage contracts weren’t on the top of his priority list. Or his grandfather’s long-withheld approval, he’d realized. The wedding was off, and his reluctant bride would breathe a sigh of relief.

  There was something liberating about finally letting go of the old man. Finally figuring out what it was Taka himself wanted. Summer was standing in the room, wearing Reno’s yukata, and if she had a knife she’d probably stab him. His kind of woman.

  “What are you smiling about?” she demanded.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Why don’t you change? I wouldn’t trust anything Reno wore next to his body.”

  “Eww…” she said. “What am I supposed to wear?”

  He tossed the silk kimono at her. “It’s told me everything I need to know. You can have it now.” Taka had a flashing memory of her standing naked in the middle of the room when he’d snatched the kimono off her. He shouldn’t have even noticed, should have been too busy looking at the missing clue. But he had noticed, and so had his cousin.

  “Am I allowed to go into the bathroom this time?” She didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well. Taka would have told her no, and he had no good reason for it, other than their track record with bathrooms.

  By the time she emerged again he’d found her a pillow and quilt for the futon. Reno’s bed would have probably been more comfortable for her American bones, but his decor would be a little…off-putting.

  She glanced down at the futon and the one pillow, and was probably thinking Thank God. She didn’t look happy, but that was wishful thinking on his part. He had no excuse to touch her, no excuse to want her. He just did.

  “I’ll be in there.” He jerked his head in the direction of Reno’s tiny bedroom. “Call me if you need anything. I’ve got work to do.”

  “I won’t.”

  No, she wouldn’t. There were no doors between the rooms, but the futon was out of sight, at least. Reno’s large American bed filled the room, and the walls held a peculiar melange of posters from gory movies, animated porn and classic woodblocks, and even one of the video game villain Reno had taken his name from. He had a blow-up doll in one corner that he tended to tie up in strange positions, to his own amusement, but Reno’s strange tastes were probably a bit much for someone already suffering severe emotional overload.

  Taka was going to get her out of here as fast as he could. There had to be some way to keep her safe until they trapped the Shirosama. Some way to get her away from him before he screwed things up any more.

  He stripped off his clothes, climbing into the pristine bed. He’d been teasing Summer earlier; in fact, Reno was fastidiously clean. Taka just hadn’t wanted her in his cousin’s clothes.

  He wanted her in Reno’s bed, now, beneath him, but that was an impossibility. Things had gone too far. He could have verbally calmed and soothed her in the bathroom on the plane. Instead he’d acted on instinct, and those actions had silenced her, stopped her before her hysterics could alert the entire plane. Very noble of him. He wasn’t going to make that move again. Unless he could come up with any lame excuse.

  His mobile unit was beginning to run low on juice, despite its state-of-the-art battery, and he hadn’t been able to recharge it on the airplane. He had just enough power to text Madame Lambert, but her reply was cut off midsentence, and he had no idea how much had gotten through. He could rummage around the apartment, find any of a number of cell phones Reno kept around, but Taka would have a hard time getting access to the Committee’s network, and his attempts could be easily intercepted by anyone with the proper skills. And the Shirosama had an army of people with the proper skills.

  Taka would simply have to hope for the best, and assume that completing the mission was up to him, and him alone.

  The Shirosama was back in the country, following a little close on their heels for Taka’s comfort. He’d only glanced at the newspaper on his hunt for Reno, but it appeared that his holiness was planning a major celebration for the Lunar New Year, combined with a great announcement. Taka could just imagine.

  Now that he knew where they were going he had a pretty good idea what would happen. In ancient times, the Lunar New Year celebration had begun on the second new moon after Winter Solstice and ended fifteen days later, when the moon was full. Time enough for Hayashi to send his cache of weapons to the far corners of the earth with his faithful followers. Time enough for Armageddon.

  Taka set the dead mobile unit on the table, leaning back to stare at the poster on the wall. Battle Royale—dead teenagers and a bloodbath. Just Reno’s style.

  Taka turned off the light. There was enough neon in the streets outside to fill the room with an unearthly glow through the slatted shutters, but he could make himself sleep in any situation, and his instincts told him a few hours rest was acceptable right now. Not actual sleep, but he could close his eyes.

  And open them again, as he heard her move in the next room. She was restless and he knew why.

  Summer had never done anything so insane in her entire, careful life. She had spent years avoiding pain, avoiding betrayal, avoiding everything that could rip her soul apart.

  And she had been wise. At the age of twenty-one she’d chosen the safest, most gentle, least threatening lover, to prove to herself that there were no lingering shadows. She had three months of gentle lovemaking, all of it pleasant, all of it forgettable. And when Scott had left, knowing she could never love him, she’d had no interest in repeating the experience. It was enough to know that she could.

  Instead, she’d filled her life with friends who wanted nothing from her and kept a watchful eye on her alarmingly bright little sister.

  But Summer’s careful life had been shattered, invaded, body and soul, by the mesmerizing man who lay asleep in the next room. The man who’d showed her what her body was capable of, when she’d been better off not knowing. The man who’d saved her, threatened her, destroyed what she loved and taken the rest. The man who thought of her as a mission and nothing more, who used sex as a weapon, who killed without remorse. The man who would send her away tomorrow and never think of her again.

  If she let him. It was the fastest, surest way back to some semblance of her safe life. She would never work at the museum again. She couldn’t leave L.A. as long as Jilly was there, but she could find something, anything else—some way to earn a living.

  She could be a coward, and who would blame her? She’d faced death half a dozen times in the last few crazy days—surely she had the right to take the easy way out and just hide in her safe little world. She would know whether he’d managed to stop the Shirosama; either the world would descend into chaos or the cult would quietly disappear.

  Takashi O’Brien might die and she’d never be told. He lived a dangerous life, and he had no regard for his own safety. He could die, and the only way she’d know would be from the hollow, aching wound inside her that never healed.

  Maybe she’d lost her mind. Jet lag, lack of sleep, the stress of having people try to kill her had all combined to make her snap.

  Except she didn’t feel weak or lost, but stronger and more sure of herself than she ever had.

  She rose from the
mattress on the floor, knotting the belt of the silk gown around her waist. The final message, from Hana-san’s hands. Would her beloved nanny have left it, and the urn, if she’d known the kind of trouble it would bring? The danger that would follow?

  Summer knew the answer. Hana had protected her as a child and would have given her life for her. But she’d also made Summer the strong woman she was. Hana Hayashi had protected her heritage; she would have expected Summer to do the same, with no excuses.

  What would she have thought of the man lying in that bed? Would she have approved? Approved of the crazy, inescapable fact that Summer had fallen stupidly in love with a man who could kill her? Or would Hana have given her a sharp pinch and told her to stop fussing? That was more like Hana-san—never one for sentiment when common sense would do. Never one for hiding from unfortunate truths.

  And the unfortunate truth was that Summer had fallen in love with the wrong man. Not the tender, almost worshipful Scott, the man with the cruel hands and the mouth of an angel. And Summer couldn’t run from that truth any longer. Hana-san had raised her better than that.

  The apartment was dark, lit only by the neon that filtered through the shuttered windows, and she moved carefully, avoiding the piles of stuff that littered the place.

  Striations of purple, red and yellow danced across the figure in the bed, courtesy of the bright neon signs outside. He lay on his back, unmoving, and for a moment she thought he was asleep. That she could just watch him for a moment and then slink back to her hard mattress on the floor.

  Then she saw his eyes were open, watching her with utter stillness. And it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Maybe it was going to be easy, after all. She opened her mouth to say something, to argue, but he stopped her. “Come here,” he said again, patiently. “You know what you want. All you have to do is say it.”

  And that was the one thing she couldn’t do. She moved closer, because she couldn’t resist, but the words seemed to jam in her throat.