his organization. I don't know who, I don't know why.”
“And you don't think this so-called traitor will decide to get rid of me?”
“There's no reason. You don't matter—the only reason anyone was after you was to lure Taka into the open. Once you're inside the compound, there will be dozens of men to look out for you. One traitor—even a handful of them—won't get past the protection my grandfather can set up.”
“You know,” she said in a conversational tone, “if you tell me I don't matter one more time, I'm going to...to...” She struggled, trying to think of something dire enough to threaten him with. “I'm going to cry,” she said triumphantly.
And he did look rattled at the thought. “You matter to Summer,” he said. And I'm sure you matter to all your friends and lovers back in California. You just don't matter to me.”
A gun, she thought. If she had a gun she'd shoot him. As it was, all she could do was summon up her sweetest smile. “Ditto,” she said.
“Ditto?” he echoed, his forehead wrinkling. He was wearing sunglasses again, hiding his eves from her, hiding his expression. She considered yanking them off his face, throwing them on the ground and stomping on them.
“Meaning, I feel the exact same way,” she said. “Take me to your grandfather so we can get this over with.”
For once he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
The walls looked old, solid, not the sort of protection a modern building deserved. Reno pushed through one of the huge doors, past two men waiting silently, with shiny dark gray suits and unsmiling faces. “Where's the oyabun?' he asked in Japanese. The reply was a little too fast, with a heavy accent that she couldn't quite get, but apparently Reno understood, and he took her arm, pulling her toward the huge, anonymous building.
She tried to yank her arm free, but his grip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. “Don't fight me, Jilly/' he said in a barely audible voice. “This isn't like anyplace you're used to. Until my grandfather takes responsibility, you'd better stay as close to me as possible.”
“You don't have to hold my hand,” she snapped, equally quiet.
“Yes, I do. Get over it.”
There were eyes watching her, both seen and unseen. Male eyes, blank and unreadable, as they passed group after group of well-dressed men with carefully arranged black hair. The yakuza army, and not a punkster among them, she thought. No wonder Reno went to such extremes.
He stopped before a pair of black-lacquered inner doors at the end of one long hallway, and Jilly had just time enough to notice the beauty and antiquity of them, clearly taken from some much older and more historic building, when they swung open, and a massive man stood waiting, blocking the entrance with his arms crossed.
“That's your grandfather?” she whispered, astonished. She could see how such a huge creature could inspire panic, though Reno didn't appear to be cowering.
“Kobayashi-san,” he said, lowering his head slightly in greeting. Okay, not Grandpa, then. Whoever it was, he didn't look too happy to see them.
But Kobayashi's own bow was lower, signifying respect. “Your grandfather is tired, young master. He wasn't expecting you. Or the gaijin,” he added, with a pointed look in her direction. His Japanese was slow and sonorous, and she got every word of it.
“My grandfather will welcome me,” Reno replied with the same stilted courtesy, and the huge man moved out of the way, revealing the room behind him.
If Jilly had been in a more frivolous mood, she would have giggled. It looked like a throne room—a long approach, with a stately ruler seated at the far end, waiting for their humble approach. Except that nothing was amusing her at this point.
Reno kept her hand in his as they moved closer, and for the first time she got a good look at the notorious oyabun, the head of the family.
He was tiny. Old and frail, with wisps of white hair on a bald,
“And you don't think this so-called traitor will decide to get rid of me?”
“There's no reason. You don't matter—the only reason anyone was after you was to lure Taka into the open. Once you're inside the compound, there will be dozens of men to look out for you. One traitor—even a handful of them—won't get past the protection my grandfather can set up.”
“You know,” she said in a conversational tone, “if you tell me I don't matter one more time, I'm going to...to...” She struggled, trying to think of something dire enough to threaten him with. “I'm going to cry,” she said triumphantly.
And he did look rattled at the thought. “You matter to Summer,” he said. And I'm sure you matter to all your friends and lovers back in California. You just don't matter to me.”
A gun, she thought. If she had a gun she'd shoot him. As it was, all she could do was summon up her sweetest smile. “Ditto,” she said.
“Ditto?” he echoed, his forehead wrinkling. He was wearing sunglasses again, hiding his eves from her, hiding his expression. She considered yanking them off his face, throwing them on the ground and stomping on them.
“Meaning, I feel the exact same way,” she said. “Take me to your grandfather so we can get this over with.”
For once he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
The walls looked old, solid, not the sort of protection a modern building deserved. Reno pushed through one of the huge doors, past two men waiting silently, with shiny dark gray suits and unsmiling faces. “Where's the oyabun?' he asked in Japanese. The reply was a little too fast, with a heavy accent that she couldn't quite get, but apparently Reno understood, and he took her arm, pulling her toward the huge, anonymous building.
She tried to yank her arm free, but his grip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. “Don't fight me, Jilly/' he said in a barely audible voice. “This isn't like anyplace you're used to. Until my grandfather takes responsibility, you'd better stay as close to me as possible.”
“You don't have to hold my hand,” she snapped, equally quiet.
“Yes, I do. Get over it.”
There were eyes watching her, both seen and unseen. Male eyes, blank and unreadable, as they passed group after group of well-dressed men with carefully arranged black hair. The yakuza army, and not a punkster among them, she thought. No wonder Reno went to such extremes.
He stopped before a pair of black-lacquered inner doors at the end of one long hallway, and Jilly had just time enough to notice the beauty and antiquity of them, clearly taken from some much older and more historic building, when they swung open, and a massive man stood waiting, blocking the entrance with his arms crossed.
“That's your grandfather?” she whispered, astonished. She could see how such a huge creature could inspire panic, though Reno didn't appear to be cowering.
“Kobayashi-san,” he said, lowering his head slightly in greeting. Okay, not Grandpa, then. Whoever it was, he didn't look too happy to see them.
But Kobayashi's own bow was lower, signifying respect. “Your grandfather is tired, young master. He wasn't expecting you. Or the gaijin,” he added, with a pointed look in her direction. His Japanese was slow and sonorous, and she got every word of it.
“My grandfather will welcome me,” Reno replied with the same stilted courtesy, and the huge man moved out of the way, revealing the room behind him.
If Jilly had been in a more frivolous mood, she would have giggled. It looked like a throne room—a long approach, with a stately ruler seated at the far end, waiting for their humble approach. Except that nothing was amusing her at this point.
Reno kept her hand in his as they moved closer, and for the first time she got a good look at the notorious oyabun, the head of the family.
He was tiny. Old and frail, with wisps of white hair on a bald,
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