Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Is that why you postponed your wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Cole looked genuinely puzzled.

  “You asked me not to.”

  “I’m surprised you listened.”

  “I do know how to keep a secret, although I was severely tempted to break my promise if it meant changing his mind.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about, Sloan?”

  I told him most of the story, leaving out the part where Trent talked about reenlisting. Cole didn’t need to hear that or add his two cents to my personal dilemma. I really hadn’t meant to share anything at all, but he caught me by surprise, and as usual, I forgot to filter.

  “Look, it’s just as well that he’s not around. He’d go all Patton on us and take over. Pretty sure you don’t need the additional stress.”

  “Thank you for not telling him.”

  “Whatever, Cole. Since we’re being so honest, can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you break up with Bryce?”

  His face shuttered again, and he was hiding behind that stony mask I’d come to hate. Whenever he put on his Shogun persona, I knew there was no chance in hell of changing his mind.

  “It wasn’t working out.”

  “From what I understand, you didn’t give him much of a chance. Was the sex so lousy?”

  “It was good, but it wasn’t perfect.”

  “Perfect? Come on, Cole. Nobody’s perfect in bed. It takes time to wind your way through the maze of what works and what doesn’t.”

  “Not with you,” he said, surprisingly candid. “It was amazing from day one.”

  I had no idea how to respond and didn’t really want to go there. We were both a little vulnerable at the moment and didn’t need any kind of sexual tension. Hell. No.

  I raised my hand to get the attention of the flight attendant.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked, giving me a toothy smile that must have been a job requirement.

  “What kind of snacks do you have?”

  She rattled off some choices, and I settled for the fruit and cheese platter. “Bring enough for both us,” I added.

  Cole slid his hand over mine. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Fucking hell….

  Chapter 8

  O’HARE AIRPORT was as awful as I’d predicted. Cole protested when I pointed him toward the cart, but when the attendant told him how many actual miles we’d have to walk to our final destination, he reconsidered. We piled onto the tiny vehicle, and when we got close to my exit, Cole handed me Freddie’s papers while I retrieved my passport and boarding pass from my leather satchel.

  After a quick hand signal from me, Freddie jumped off the cart, and I clipped his leash on while reassuring Cole. “I’ll meet you at the Admirals Club as soon as we’re done.”

  Cole nodded, and Freddie and I exited security, taking the elevator down to baggage claim. The pet relief area was clearly marked with a blue sign of a dog silhouetted within a white circle. If Freddie could have kissed me, he would have. The minute I opened the black wrought iron fence, he hurried over to a corner and lifted his leg. I muttered “good boy” and turned to look around. Things had certainly changed. I could remember frantically looking for any patch of grass a few years back. Now they had poop bag dispensers, a large trash can, and even a stone bench in case a traveler wanted a seat while their animal took care of business. I took advantage of this moment alone and thumbed my phone off airline mode. There was an e-mail from Trent, which made my heart skip a beat.

  Hey. Arrived alive (smile, babe). Busy getting up to date on the new techno shit. Lots of good stuff that’s come down the pipe since I left. Can’t wait to test the gadgets. Passed my physicals without a problem (natch). Meeting the rest of my crew tomorrow, then we’ll be on our way to the sandbox. I’ll write when I get there. Give my favorite toy a tug. Luv u tons.

  I sighed, imagining that grin and aura of excitement vibrating around him. There was no denying that my Trent was a danger junkie and loving every second of this new adventure. Once again I wondered how on earth I could compete with that sort of rush. Deciding to reply when we arrived at our final destination, I switched my phone back to airplane mode. Right now, I had to get back to the Club before Cole had a meltdown. Freddie had already barked twice to get my attention.

  I got rid of his waste, clipped the leash back onto his collar, and moved toward the elevators. “Come on, boy.”

  We endured the security bullshit one more time before being allowed to reenter the departure area. I stopped at a Starbucks to load up on caffeine and sugar, choosing a caramel brownie that looked decadent as hell. While I was paying, I could feel Freddie tugging on his leash. A low growl escaped from his throat, and I looked down in shock. In all the years I’d been around the dog, I’d never seen his aggressive side. I tried to follow his line of sight and ended up staring into the slanted eyes of a really creepy-looking dude who was watching us intently. His black hair was oiled back into some sort of knot at the base of his head, and ugly black tattoos crept up one side of his neck, stopping right under his chin. There must have been a lot more ink underneath the dark shirt, because I caught glimpses of black curlicues through the rolled-up sleeves on arms that looked like small hams. As soon as he realized I was staring, he whirled around and took off. I had to hang on to Freddie, who seemed intent on chasing after the guy and tearing him to pieces. Our gentle golden retriever had turned into a ferocious predator, which disturbed me more than anything else about the encounter.

  When I got to the Admirals Club and mentioned the incident to Cole, he asked, “Did you get a chance to look at the guy’s hands?”

  “Why?”

  “I wondered if he was missing a few digits.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The Yakuza routinely punish their people by chopping off portions of their fingers, starting with the pinkie. It’s fairly common and an easy way to spot a gang member, although nowadays, they make prosthetics so you can’t always tell. Tattoos are another sign. Did this guy have any?”

  “Yeah, ugly-ass thing creeping up his neck. I’m pretty sure he had a ton more, but everything happened too fast. Is that why they used Noriko’s finger as a scare tactic?”

  “Yes. It’s a classic Yakuza move.”

  “Do you think this guy has been following us since we left New York?”

  “I would if I were in their shoes,” Cole replied. He reached for Freddie’s harness and drew him a little closer. The animal hadn’t settled to his normal watchful gaze. He still seemed agitated, and Cole kept petting him as if he too sensed danger.

  I might have been overreacting, but I was convinced this entire expedition would turn to shit since we didn’t have a clue what we were doing. Neither one of us had a gun or even knew how to fire a weapon if we stumbled upon one by accident. Martial arts was something I watched on TV to ogle the hot guys. If ever I needed Trent’s combat experience, it was now.

  “Why in hell didn’t you let me tell Trent? He’s much better at this sort of thing than we’ll ever be.”

  “We can handle this, Sloan. Stay focused and don’t panic.”

  “Easy for you to say; you didn’t see that goon. Creep factor times ten.”

  “Let me know if he’s on the plane.”

  “Don’t worry. Freddie will go nuts if he sees him again.”

  “That’s so odd, isn’t it?” Cole asked.

  “It’s creepy, Cole. Freddie has never shown any signs of aggression toward anything. He must sense some danger.”

  “Seeing Eye dogs are trained to protect their owners.”

  “I get that, but this is a side of your dog that’s been dormant.”

  “We’ve never had to deal with Yakuza before,” Cole said.

  “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

  “Did you think I was making this up?”

  “No, but seeing a criminal is much worse t
han reading threats on a piece of paper.”

  Cole snorted. “They have a reputation for a reason. Everyone in the organization is intimidating as hell, and they’ll stop at nothing to achieve their goal. Failure is unacceptable, and they pay for their transgressions with body parts or, worse, their lives. The Yakuza is successful because their members would rather die on the job than face the shame of failure. Like the kamikaze pilots of World War II, it’s honor above anything else.”

  “Shit.”

  “Christ, if Dad only knew what he was getting our family into, he would have thought twice.”

  “Don’t get me started on your dad and his epic fail.”

  “Enough,” Cole pleaded. “I’m too tired to dredge up old wounds.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “How long are we staying in Tokyo?”

  “Overnight at the Imperial Hotel to catch up on our sleep and then head for Kyoto. That’s where we’ll do the exchange.”

  “Are you planning on visiting the old crones at the geisha house?”

  “Not unless I have to.”

  “Good to know. I doubt I could be civil.”

  “Try to keep your aggression to a minimum, Sloan. The one person who started this isn’t around to hear or see it, and there’s no point in acting like an Ugly American if you can help it.”

  “God forbid I should dishonor you.”

  Cole turned toward me and frowned. “Are we going to spend this entire trip arguing?”

  I sighed and leaned against him. “I’m being a prick ’cause I’m freaking the fuck out.”

  “I’m just as scared.”

  “Probably so, but you have that inscrutable Asian face that hides everything.”

  He slipped his hand into mine. “Let’s call a truce. We’ll have to support each other as best as we can.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Since we were in first class, we boarded first, which gave me an opportunity to scrutinize all the people who trotted down the aisle toward coach. Our gangster never showed up, which was a huge relief. Freddie finally put his head down on his paws and fell asleep. It was obvious our pup had better instincts than the two of us combined, and if he felt comfortable enough to snooze, then I assumed the coast was clear.

  Once the plane was level at thirty-four thousand feet and the seat belt signs were turned off, they began serving a late lunch, starting with appetizers and drinks. As I chewed on my unremarkable salad, I noted that the quality of food wasn’t really worth the price of the ticket, but the ergonomically designed seats that folded out into a flat bed were definitely worth six grand. Shortly after they removed the last of the trays, Cole began to nod off. It was only four in the afternoon, but he must have been exhausted. With the flight attendant’s help, we prepared his bed, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

  I wasn’t as lucky. The mention of Cole’s father had brought him to the forefront of my mind, and from there, I jumped from one horrible memory to the next. How could Ken Fujiwara have been so clueless? Out of desperation, the man had concocted a stupid plan to have grandchildren, using his impending death to convince Cole. Ken never gave a thought to all the lives that were being trampled along the way: mine, Noriko, and Cole’s. All three of us had been manipulated by that self-serving piece of shit—may he burn in hell—and here we were, once again caught in that same web of deceit he’d woven long ago. I knew it was wrong to think ill of the dead, but I blamed him for almost everything that had happened between Cole and me.

  I had a clear picture of Noriko standing in our living room the evening Ken and Eileen had foisted her on us. It was embedded in my brain like the permanent scars I’d retained from my cutter days—a constant reminder of bad choices. Hopefully, this trip wouldn’t join the collection as another mistake. I thought about the twins—innocent victims created by their selfish grandfather to carry on his dying name.

  Would they ever know I’d hated everything about them before they were even born? Had my anger-driven rants become a self-fulfilling prophecy? God, I hoped not, because everything had changed the moment they were placed in my arms. The first time I saw those beautiful faces, I realized they’d never deserved my anger. They were a part of the man I’d loved for years, breakup notwithstanding. I would always carry pieces of Cole in my heart, and his children easily filled the spot he’d vacated. It was the main reason I’d jumped on the babysitting rotation, forcing Trent to endure a lifestyle altogether unfamiliar, and the main reason I’d agreed to keep this trip a secret. I had to make it up to the twins somehow, and saving their lives was a good place to start.

  Chapter 9

  THERE WAS an envelope waiting for Cole at the Imperial Hotel. It was addressed to him in the same floral script as the ransom note, and he tucked it into his coat pocket before we headed toward the elevators. Cole had reserved adjoining rooms, assuming I’d want my own space, and I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. As soon as the bellboy left, I sat on one of the beds and pulled out my phone. There was another e-mail from Trent.

  Where are you? It’s hot as hell--the sun must be closer over here. I’m off to the shower to try and cool off. I’m thinking of you. Really! Stop rolling your eyes and answer me.

  With a frustrated sigh, I sent him a brief message letting him know everything was fine and I missed him as well. There was no point in getting under his skin if there was nothing he could do. It was better to keep him levelheaded so he could concentrate on staying alive. I would strangle him when he finally got home.

  Tossing my phone aside, I stepped into the bathroom to take a piss and wash up. My hands and face felt grimy, and I could have used a long, hot bath, especially after noticing the Jacuzzi jets in the oversized tub, but I knew Cole would want dinner, so it would have to wait. The bathroom was absolutely sumptuous. I’d stayed in five-star hotels before, but the Imperial was in a class unto itself. The plush bathrobe alone was a far cry from the obviously worn and threadbare counterparts I’d seen in other countries. In Japan, much emphasis was placed on visual appeal. This applied to everything from food to bedspreads. If it offended the eye, it was removed. It had been a very long trip, and unlike Cole, I hadn’t slept a wink. The idea of a relaxing soak and a good night’s sleep were very appealing.

  There was a loud knock on the locked door that separated our rooms, and after fiddling with the latch for a few seconds, I pushed it open and Cole passed through with Freddie at his heels. He handed me the envelope he’d tucked away earlier. “Would you mind reading this, please? The idiots on this end didn’t think to have it printed up in Braille.”

  “See, they’re not as smart as you think. Maybe we can outfox them after all.”

  “Read it,” Cole said flatly.

  “Professor,” I began. “Thank you for complying with our requests so far.” I looked up at Cole’s face in astonishment. These fucking Japanese were so goddamn polite even the criminals adhered to proper form.

  “Why’d you stop?” he asked curiously.

  I decided to withhold all commentary and continued to read. “Please remember that we have requested a cash payment. Our Chicago contact noticed you were not carrying a briefcase when you boarded the plane, so we assume you had the funds electronically transferred to your bank in Tokyo. We will give you two days to prepare the money in the denominations outlined in our first letter. Once you have everything in order, please take the bullet train to Kyoto and register at the Hyatt Regency near Sanjusanjendo Temple. Reservations have already been made, and you will find another set of instructions at the front desk.”

  “Well, that answers the burning question about our stalker at the airport,” Cole remarked. “That creep at O’Hare was definitely on their payroll.”

  “You should ask for proof that the boys and Noriko are alive.”

  “I’ll do it before I hand over the money.”

  “Why not do it right now?”

  “I’m expecting these p
eople to stick to their plan,” Cole said defensively. “It wouldn’t do any good to lure me halfway across the world only to find my ex-wife and sons already beyond my reach. It’s not in their best interest to double-cross me.”

  I shook my head dubiously. “Have you made arrangements with your bank?”

  “Yes. They know I’ll be coming in tomorrow. I was hoping the kidnappers would consider an electronic transfer, but I guess that only happens in the movies. Real-life criminals want cold cash. It shouldn’t take two days to put together three million in small bills.”

  “I would think not. Shall we go for a short walk before settling in for the night? I’m sure Freddie could use the exercise.”

  “That sounds great, Sloan.”

  Our hotel overlooked the Imperial Palace and was a short distance from the Hibaya Park, a small pocket of greenery situated in the heart of Tokyo’s business district. Cole requested that we head in that direction, narrating the park’s history as we walked arm in arm. What he found particularly interesting was that this very location had withstood the test of time, having been a part of the estates of the Mori and Nabeshima clan during the Edo period. After the shogunate fell and during the Meiji era, the park was used as a military training ground. Cole’s doctorate was in Japanese history, so it was a foregone conclusion that he’d want to walk along the path of the ancient shogun he so admired. I described in minute detail every plant, ivy-covered fence, and stone statuary so he could see it through my eyes. It was something I’d done throughout our years together, and it felt quite normal to point out the different colors and textures. My artistic eye was able to pick up details others ignored, and Cole relied on me to paint him an accurate picture. He’d often said it was almost as good as seeing it himself. This was the first time we’d been to Tokyo together, and I was just as curious about the history of the area.

  “The Imperial Hotel was built in the 1800s to house the sudden influx of Westerners,” Cole remarked. “The royals couldn’t let the unclean gaijin stay in their palace, so they built a hotel to keep them close by.”