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The next step was to get over it.
She felt very strange dressing in Reno’s clothes. She’d lost weight during the last few days, and he liked his jeans as baggy as he liked his leather tight, so she had no trouble pulling them up around her ample American butt. She laughed at the underwear Taka had unearthed—Reno had a secret weakness for tiger stripes and pastels. She put her fancy bra on, wincing slightly at the tenderness in her breasts and then dismissing it as she pulled a T-shirt over her head. It was lime-green, blindingly bright, and said On The Verge Of Destruction. Not exactly her color, but the saying was apt and she didn’t fancy pawing through his clothes to find something more suitable.
She even found a pair of orange sneakers—too big on her, of course, but with a couple of pairs of socks and tying the laces tightly, they’d do. She wasn’t going to be heading into the mountains in those high heels, no matter how effective a weapon they could be.
Of course, Taka didn’t think she’d be heading into the mountains at all. He was about to find out otherwise.
She headed into the kitchen, made herself a bowl of instant miso soup and dished up some rice from the rice cooker. The meal probably wasn’t big on nutrition, but at least it was filling.
In a drawer, she found a paring knife. A nasty little thing more suited for street fighting than kitchen work, but it would do very nicely if Taka made the mistake of trying to abandon her. It would cut through rope or duct tape quite handily.
She heard the door open as she was washing the dishes, but she didn’t turn. Reno no longer scared her—he was trying too hard. And if it was Taka, he’d come up behind her, press his body against hers, and she could lean back, sinking into the heat and strength of him, letting go…
It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react. Something was pressed over her mouth and nose, and she breathed in the stink of it before she could react or lash out. The knife, she thought dizzily. She needed to get to the knife.
She felt herself falling, and something was placed over her head, closing out the light, closing out everything, and her last thought was, Wasn’t this how the whole damn thing started?
“What are you going to do about her?” his cousin asked. “Not that it’s any of my business, but your grandfather will want to know.”
“Send her back to America as soon as this is over,” Taka said grimly, putting Hitoshi Komoru’s credit card down on the pile of outdoor clothing he was buying.
“And you’ll be going with her?”
“No. She’ll go back to her own life. I’ll go on to my next assignment.”
“With the Committee? You still think you can save the world, cousin?”
“It’s worth trying,” Taka replied.
“I’m not convinced of that.”
“You’re young,” Taka said. He was in a foul mood. Considering he’d spent the night fucking his brains out, he ought be feeli
ng a little more even tempered, but right now he wanted to hit something, anything. In a pinch, Reno would do.
“Five years younger than you, you old fart. That just makes you stuffier, not smarter.”
Taka stared at Reno haughtily. “And you’re so happy working for your grandfather? Overseeing gambling parlors and the sex trade?”
Reno shrugged. “What are you suggesting—that I join your shadow organization and try to save the world, as well? Not exactly my style. Don’t you have enough heroes?”
“There’s a lot of turnover. It’s a little too easy to get killed in my line of work.”
Reno grinned. “You tempt me, cousin. Almost. But as long as you’re around I’ll just concentrate on sex and gambling. Better to stick to the simpler pleasures in life. Besides, Grandfather wouldn’t be happy if you lured me away.”
“He’d let you go. I asked him.”
Reno pushed his sunglasses up, fixing his cousin with a sharp stare. “You can mind your own fucking business,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “You’re the one who’s busy screwing up his world by screwing the gaijin.”
“You’re forgetting, I’m half-gaijin myself.”
“I try to overlook that particular failing.”
“And you’re—”
“Don’t even say it,” Reno warned.
Takashi had said enough. The cashier handed him the tray with his credit card and receipt, and he took it, shoving it in his back pocket before turning back to the bristling Reno. “Just think about it,” he said. Madame Lambert would make mincemeat of his little cousin—something he’d pay good money to see. And with Reno complicating his life, he’d have less time to think about mistakes living in L.A.
