Ice Blue

by Anne Stuart

  “I’d forgotten.”

  “Forget again.”

  “Wouldn’t your wife know some Japanese?” she countered. “I would think—”

  “Don’t think, don’t talk. You’re my American wife, we live in Seattle and this is your first trip to Japan. You know nothing of the language except for a few kinky things I’ve said to you when we have sex.”

  She could feel the color flood her face. She wanted to hit him, but presumably American wives didn’t hit their Japanese husbands, any more than they talked or thought. “Yes, dear,” she said in her snottiest voice.

  He ignored her sarcasm, unfastening his seat belt, reaching over to unfasten hers when she didn’t move. She batted at his hands and unclasped the buckle herself, pushing out of her seat. For a moment she felt dizzy, disoriented. But then, that had become the norm for her. She was half a world away from everything she’d ever known, and whatever lay back there was in ruins. At least her sister was safe. Summer needed to hold on to that fact, like some kind of beacon.

  The flight attendants were hovering, and for the first time she could see how they fluttered around Taka. Did Japanese wives get jealous? Was flirting expected?

  Apparently not. Taka turned to her, sliding his arm around her waist, and it felt strong and warm, so wonderful that for a moment she forgot the other time he’d held her with his arm around her waist, touched her, and she just wanted to lean her head against him. “Come along, darling,” he said in a voice pitched just loud enough for those around him to hear. “Time to meet your new family.”

  She looked up at him, startled. There was a brief, bitter look in his eyes that was quickly masked. “They’ll love you just as I do,” he added with only slightly exaggerated fondness.

  Which meant she was toast. “I’m looking forward to it,” she replied sweetly. “Taka-chan,” she added, using the affectionate term.

  The flight attendants made soft, approving noises, as Taka glared at her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear in Japanese, something people close to them could hear. The giggles were louder now as he pulled away, and Summer smiled fondly up at him, wishing she was wearing high heels that she could tromp on his instep. She had no idea what he’d said, but whatever it was was clearly smutty.

  “Let’s go, darling,” she said through gritted teeth. And she let him lead her off the plane, into a new world that was hardly more foreign than the life she’d been living for the last few days.

  He was waiting for her in the first class lounge when she finally emerged from the changing room, and he didn’t look up. It gave her a moment to watch him, unobserved. He looked different. He’d showered and shaved, and his long hair was tied neatly in the back. He was wearing a dark suit, possibly the best looking suit she’d ever seen. He appeared remote and elegant, as if in entering his native country he’d absorbed it, becoming more of a stranger than ever.

  The hard-shell golf case was beside him, the treasures of the Hayashi family safe inside such a mundane container, and he was reading a Japanese newspaper, looking like any normal man waiting patiently for his wife. If you didn’t look into his dark, merciless eyes.

  He folded the newspaper and looked up. Of course he’d known she’d been watching him—he was aware of everything. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have some surprises in store for him. If she hadn’t been looking for it she might not have noticed his reaction, but it was as strong as she’d expected it to be.

  Her Italian leather high heels were silent on the thick carpet. For a moment she hadn’t been sure whether she should put them on, but the attendants were wearing their shoes, and she assumed that the first class lounge was essentially international territory. And besides, they made her legs look terrific in the stockings that could be nothing less than silk.

  Stockings, and lacy underwear that made Victoria’s Secret look like Wal-Mart. All fitting perfectly beneath the trim Anna Sui red wool dress. There was even Chanel makeup and perfume in the suitcase provided. Instead of her usual braid, she’d tucked her hair up in a discreet, elegant chignon. She looked as foreign and as beautiful as this unknown country, from the diamond studs in her ears to the diamond ring he’d shoved on her hand just before they’d reached customs. She was Susan Elizabeth Komoru, about to meet her Japanese in-laws for the first time. It was no wonder she was nervous.

  He rose, and for once he didn’t tower over her. The three-inch heels brought her closer to her baby sister’s height, though still a bit shorter than Taka.

  The shower had revived her, brought her brain back to life, and with it all her doubts and emotions. She shoved them to the recesses of her mind—she had to deal with this one minute at a time, and the startled look in his eyes, quickly masked, was reward enough.

  He stood, staring at her for a long moment. “What?” she demanded in a low voice. “You didn’t think I could clean up well?”

  He put his hand on the side of her neck, and she didn’t jerk away, couldn’t. He pressed his beautiful mouth against hers, briefly, and she could feel her body rise to his touch, her lips clinging for a moment.

  And then he released her. “My family will love you,” he said, the image of sincerity. “Particularly my mother. She’s waited so long to be a grandmother.” He put his long-fingered hand on Summer’s flat stomach, and she jumped, nervous. Aroused.

  She didn’t know whether he was trying to rattle her or simply lure her into playing the part completely. She didn’t like it, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe because the reality of it would have been so piercingly sweet.

  She gathered the only defense she had left. “I hope so, Taka-chan,” she said.

  There was an odd gentleness in his smile. “You’re far too easy to love, Su-chan.” His affectionate name for her was a worthy comeback. Harder to bear, because he made it sound so believable. He stepped back, breaking their contact. “My cousin should be here by now,” he added. “If you’re ready?”

  He couldn’t hold on to her, the hard-shell golf case and his own suitcase. She could run when they reached the main part of the terminal, and he’d have to choose between the Hayashi treasure or her.

  But she’d accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to run. She was trapped in a foreign land with a man who killed, but he was still her best chance at staying alive. Besides, where would she go? She had the fake passport, credit cards and a wad of paper money in the Coach handbag that was part of what she could only think of as a disguise. She had a minimal knowledge of the language, and even in the U.S., where she had all her resources, she had been helpless when she came up against Takashi and the Shirosama.

  Here, in their own country, it would be even worse. She had no choice but to play out this hand. It didn’t help that she could still feel Taka’s soft lips against hers.

  “I should warn you about my cousin,” he said just before they headed out into the winter afternoon.

  “Is he anything like you?”

  “Reno is like no one else on this earth. He doesn’t care much for Americans.”

  “That hardly makes him unique. We’re not terribly popular, and for good reason.”

  “His are a bit more…personal. Just don’t let him get to you, and I’ll make him behave.”

  Not the words to instill confidence, she thought, stepping through the automatic doors and taking her first breath of fresh air in God knows how long. She could smell the sea. She stood for a moment, breathing it in, when Taka spoke.

  “There he is.”

  She turned, and the first thing she saw was the white limo—just like the ones used by the Shirosama and his crew. Summer froze, ready to make a run for it, when she caught sight of the figure leaning against the side of the car.

  Not one of the Shirosama’s brethren. He was dressed entirely in black leather, sunglasses covering most of his face, and he had red hair. Bright crimson, a shade not found in nature, and as he pushed away from the car she could see the hair hanging down past his waist.

  He push
ed his sunglasses up in a gesture of supreme arrogance, taking in Summer from head to toe, and she could see the tattoos around his eyes. Teardrops, but they were red. Like tears of blood.

  He obviously wasn’t impressed with what he saw. He dropped the sunglasses, turned to Taka and embraced him, still looking at Summer as if she were an unpleasant annoyance.

  “How’s Uncle?” Taka asked in English.

  Reno shrugged, answering him in Japanese, and leaned over to pick up the golf case. Taka stopped him. “I’ll keep this with me. You can give my wife a hand with her suitcase.”

  Reno’s mouth curved in a smirk, and he muttered something no doubt highly unflattering. Taka compounded it by laughing, and Summer started thinking she might prefer the Shirosama, after all. Then Taka turned to her.

  “Su-chan, this is my disreputable cousin Reno, grandson of my great-uncle Hiro. Reno has no manners, but I’m sure he welcomes you to the family.”

  She assumed Reno didn’t speak English, but he made a universally derisive sound. He picked up her suitcase and strolled around to the back of the limo. The trunk popped open, seemingly of its own accord, and Summer glanced around for the übermobile phone that seemed to serve as a remote control for the world. It was nowhere in sight, and then she realized someone was sitting in driver’s seat of the limo, barely visible behind the smoked windows. A chauffeur who stayed in the car and didn’t help with luggage was peculiar indeed, and visions of the Shirosama began intruding once more. She glanced at Taka. If he was going to turn her over to His Sliminess he would have done so in the U.S. He wouldn’t have brought her all this way to do it.

  Besides, there was no way the brethren would include an exotic creature like the disapproving Reno.

  The interior of the limo was huge, and Summer climbed in, trying to deal with the short dress and the high heels as she scrambled to the far corner. She didn’t even see the man sitting across from her until Taka, following her inside, greeted him, knuckles together, bowing low as he sat on the leather bench seat beside her.

  “Uncle,” he murmured.

  “Welcome home, Great-nephew,” the man said. Dressed with the same impeccable care as Taka, he was very old, with wrinkles creasing his face, and almost bald. His perfectly manicured hands were missing two fingers.

  Yakuza. A Japanese godfather, for all his benevolent smile. He gave Reno a fondly disapproving look when he climbed in and closed the limo door, and Summer took a surreptitious look at his fingers. Black fingernail polish, but all his digits intact. Which, according to Taka, just meant he hadn’t screwed up yet.

  She would have thought his appearance alone would be worth a thumb at least—he was a far cry from the Yakuza dress code, if Taka and his great-uncle were any indication. But that was not her concern.

  “And you must be Dr. Hawthorne,” the old man said pleasantly. “Welcome to our country. I hope my nephew hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”

  Summer cast a nervous glance at Taka. Trouble was the least of it. “He’s been very kind,” she said, automatically polite.

  She felt Taka start beside her. “I’ve kept her alive, Uncle. Apart from that, kindness hasn’t been foremost on my mind.”

  Reno leaned back against the side bench of the limo, and even behind the sunglasses, she could imagine the contempt in his eyes. He said something to his grandfather, clearly disparaging, but the old man replied in English. “It’s rude to speak Japanese in front of a visitor, Grandson. We will speak English.”

  Apparently the old man even managed to cow Reno. He said nothing, crossing his arms across his chest in silent disdain.

  “Taka-san, we have a problem,” the old man said. “I hesitate to discuss business in front of your friend, but I’m afraid I cannot take you back to my house. People are watching.”

  She could feel the sudden tension in Taka’s body. He was sitting closer to her than he needed to—the interior of the limo was huge, with his uncle at the far end, Reno lounging on the side, and the entire back seat for the two of them. But he was next to her, not actually touching, yet close enough so that she could feel his body heat, feel his reactions. Feel a certain irrational comfort from him, her one ally.

  “Our contact in the Japanese government has informed me that they’ve decided not to have anything to do with the entire Hayashi affair. Things are too volatile with the new religions, and there’s been a lot of criticism about recent crackdowns. They’ve decided that the threat is exaggerated, and that the followers of the Shirosama are just harmless fanatics.”

  “And how many people will have to die on the Tokyo subways this time for them to change their minds, Uncle?”

  The old man shook his head. “They and I both know that no one will die. You and the people you work for will see to it, and our government need never get involved. For that matter, the Japanese people will never know how close they came to a major disaster.”

  “Not just the Japanese people this time, Uncle. The Shirosama is planning attacks on all the major transportations systems in world.”

  “Then your friends will have to stop him, won’t they? I know they can—I am one of the few people who know how close we came to disaster last year with Van Dorn. You were able to foil his plans, so you can the Shirosama’s, as well.”

  “You give me too much credit, Uncle. I had nothing to do with stopping him.”

  “There is no shame in being tricked by an evil man, Nephew. I am only happy you survived.”

  What the hell was going on? Evil men, employers, saving the world? Beside her, Taka said nothing.

  “Have you not explained to your friend? She seems confused.”

  “I’ve told her what she needs to know.”

  “I would suspect, Nephew, that she needs to know more. Particularly when I see how you look at her.”

  Taka gave another sudden start, but didn’t turn. What did his uncle see when he looked at her? Murderous tendencies? Vast annoyance? Or something else?

  “And she looks at you the same way,” the old man added, and it was Summer’s turn to jump. Definitely vast annoyance, then. And something else.

  “You’ll need to take the urn to the site itself,” he continued, as if he hadn’t veered into private territory. “The government refuses to accept responsibility for it, and our people can’t get involved.”

  “I don’t know where the site of the temple is, Uncle.”

  The old man’s lizardlike eyes moved to Summer. “She will tell you.”

  Summer frowned. “Me? I don’t know where the site is, either. Trust me, if I did I would have told him long ago.”

  “Nevertheless, you will be the one to tell him. I feel this.”

  Taka turned to gaze at her, enigmatic as always. “My honored uncle has been known to see things that others don’t. If he says it will be that way, it will.”

  “But I don’t know where it is!” she cried in frustration. “Why won’t you believe me? What are you going to do—try to torture it out of me?”

  “There’s no need,” Taka said. “You will tell me, as you did before.”

  She could feel the heat rush through her body. If his uncle did indeed “see” things, then he’d know exactly what Taka was referring to. How could anyone not? She turned her face away, staring at the Tokyo suburbs as they sped by.

  “She isn’t lying to you, Taka-san,” the old man said gently.

  “I know that,” Taka said.

  Small comfort, Summer thought bitterly.

  “I’ll drop you both by your apartment. Reno will take the golf case and repack the treasures, and you can make arrangements to pick them up.”

  Summer expected Taka to protest, but he merely nodded. Everyone fell silent, and it wasn’t until the car stopped that the old man spoke once more.

  “I hope we meet again, Dr. Hawthorne, next time under more auspicious circumstances. I am certain we will.”

  Instinctively, Summer bowed her head, ignoring Reno’s laugh. His grandfather’s sharp r
eprimand stopped him, and she could just imagine the glare from behind those mirrored sunglasses.

  Taka slid out of the car, holding a hand for her, and a moment later they were standing on a busy Tokyo sidewalk as the car slid away.

  “They took the suitcases,” she said after a moment.

  “We don’t need them.” He was still distracted.

  “Do you trust your cousin with the…golf clubs?”

  This caught his attention. He looked at her, his dark eyes intense. “I trust him with my life.”

  “Then why did you warn me about him?” she countered.

  “I don’t trust him with yours.”

  For a moment she froze, as people moved all around her, everyone politely ignoring the stranger in a strange land. “Does it matter?”

  Taka said nothing. It was very cold, as if there was snow in the air. Summer had never thought of Japan as a cold place, but in mid-January it was freezing, and they hadn’t included a coat as part of her disguise.

  She looked up into Taka’s deep, dark eyes, and for a moment she felt oddly light-headed. She could drown in his eyes, she thought. Just fall into them, slide up against his body and…

  His hands caught her arms, steadying her. “Come on,” he said.

  “We’re going to your apartment?” Good. She was feeling almost drunk. If she got him alone she was going to wrap herself around him until she got warm, was going to—

  “No. It’s not safe. I’m taking you to get something to eat.”

  “Eat?” she echoed, trying to banish her odd, inappropriately erotic thoughts.

  “I don’t remember when I last fed you. You’ll feel better when you get something to eat, and then we need to find somewhere safe to spend the night.”

  “I feel fine,” she said dreamily. So she was hungry. Maybe so hungry she couldn’t stand properly. And he was just so damn beautiful, and right now, for a short while, she was beautiful, too, and she could float against him, feel his arm around her waist, his breath on her cheek, as he steered her down the street. Right now she was going to do anything she wanted, since she had an excuse.