Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) (18 page)

In the bathroom, she put on a tiny black camisole and panties with the thick, white terry robe over top. She kept the lights off as she tiptoed through the suite to the kitchen. Even though the coffeemaker begged to be turned on, she heated water in the microwave for tea instead. Mug in hand, she peeked in the second bedroom, hoping for a place to sit with a light on and read for a while. Jack’s things were spread all over the room. Toiletries, papers, even a laptop. She closed the door again and went back to the kitchenette.

With her tea in one hand and handwritten speech notes in the other, she slid down the wall and plunked to the floor. A hallway nightlight was just close enough that she could use it to read. A nearby vent rattled quietly, hot air flowing out into the room. She moved her feet a little closer. Clutching the cup in both hands to catch the warmth, she took a series of sips. She daydreamed about the night before. It wasn’t long before her mind drifted off to past lovers. She decided Jack was the best of them, if for no other reason than he was in the next room. And available for more. 

Her fantasy ended and reality set back in again. She set her sights on her speech notes, but none of them made sense to her sleep-deprived brain. Unable to focus, she tossed the notes aside and rested her head back against the wall.

The last few months had been a whirlwind. She had recovered from her own surgery from almost a year before, returned to the heavy work of neurosurgery far too soon, and not long after that, had performed possibly the most difficult procedure of her career on the man she just made love with. “Complicated” was putting it mildly. Looking at the vent cover with sleepy eyes, June wondered if it was possible to crawl in and escape back to simpler times.

She realized she had dozed off when she felt something on her cheek. Opening her eyes, Jack was kissing her.

She smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey to you too. Been up long?” He turned on the coffeemaker.

She grabbed the notes from where she had flung them. “Long enough to decide my talk is utter crap and that I’m a fraud as a surgeon.”

“And that’s why you’re sitting on the floor in the dark? So you can feel sorry for yourself?”

“Not sorry, just…overwhelmed.”

“We can go through your talk a couple times this morning, if you like.”

She looked down at her notes again. It wasn’t the talk that was overwhelming her. “It’s just neuro-babble. Not terribly interesting except to other neuro-babblers.” She wadded the notes into a ball and tossed them away. “And probably not even interesting to them.”

Jack handed her a cup of coffee. He found the notes and unwrinkled them, reading for a moment. “And you have PowerPoint to go with this, right?”

June pushed her way up and went to her briefcase. Taking out her laptop, she set it on the small dining table and found the program she wanted. She dragged two chairs around for them to sit.

“Why don’t you just give the talk to me right now? I can watch the laptop screen from where I sit.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess I could. Let me check my notes for a moment.”

“No. Just give the talk. You already know everything you need to give the presentation.”

“But…”

“You have only about thirty seconds before you lose me.”

She turned the laptop so he could view while sitting at the table, and she stepped a few feet away, keeping the mouse in her hand to shift slides.

“Good morning. My name is June Kato from Mercy Hospital in Los Angeles.” She clicked to the next slide.

“You have twenty more seconds until I start thinking about something else,” Jack said.

She smiled. “My talk today is Neuroscience and the Golden Ratio.”

“Ten seconds,” he muttered, taking a drink of his coffee. 

June filled her half-hour time allotment with barely needing to stop to think.

“So, what did you think of my talk?”

Jack tilted his head. “Good information. The slides were well organized, thoughtful.”

“You make it sound as exciting as a book report.”

“It lacks punch. Build some interest as you go along. In a way, you’re telling a story, even if it’s only about brain surgery.”

“Only brain surgery?” she asked sharply. She gave him an impatient look that reflected her lack of sleep. “There’s a very good reason very few surgeons attempt third ventricle surgery. It’s not so easy, and too many things can go wrong in a hurry. There is nothing
only
about it.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

She felt the need to change the subject. “What time is your presentation today? I know mine’s last on the bill.” 

“A little after lunch. Actually, I need to get started on some prep work.”

“Rats. I’m still hungry.”

“There should be fruit and cereal in the kitchen.”

“I was thinking of something else…”

“I’m doing something right then.” He grinned.

“You still have my vote next year.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I should shower and dress.”

She frowned and rolled off him onto her back. “And that loses my vote.”

He left her in bed where she laid sprawled, the blanket covering only her legs, the pillow under her head. She watched him take clothes out of the closet to wear after his shower, stacking them in neat and tidy piles. When he turned around to face her, she saw him naked in the light for the first time, not as a patient in a hospital bed, but as a man sharing a bedroom with her. She easily could have gotten aroused.

The ventilation system kicked on and the same clatter came from the vent near the kitchen.

“May I ask you a question?” Jack asked.

“If it’s about meeting for dinner later, the answer is certainly. If it’s about tonight, the answer is definitely.”

“Maybe more personal than that,” he said on his way to the bathroom.

“Oh? More personal than what we did last night?” she called out.

He returned with shave cream on his face, a razor in one hand. “About your scars.”

June rolled onto her back and pulled the blanket up to her chest. “Do they bother you?”

“No, not at all. But when I was briefed on your dossier…”

June didn’t like the sound of that, and couldn’t hold her tongue. “That’s a new way to meet chicks. Have a government lackey pull some bimbo’s dossier and get briefed on her.”

“Oh, now, wait a minute,” he said, coming back from the bathroom, half his face shaved.

“Is that all I’ve been? An educated woman with a decent job that didn’t mind rushing off somewhere to meet you? My dossier was good enough, and once the media discovers my existence in your life, I won’t be an embarrassment?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not all that good. But you definitely wouldn’t be an embarrassment!”

June bundled into the blanket and turned on her side to watch him finish shaving at the bathroom mirror.

“I’m still curious about the scars. You always shift the conversation away whenever I ask.”

“Okay, fine. The ones on my back are from an explosion from a couple years ago. I’m surprised that’s not in my dossier,” June answered curtly.

“That house explosion in the San Fernando Valley?”

“Right. The Yakuza had the place rigged to blow while I was in it. I was able to get away, but when the bomb went off, I was still too close. Anyway, the hospital spent several hours picking shrapnel out of me, and repaired a lung and my spleen. I guess a giant splinter went between my ribs and into a lung. I never knew it at the time though.” She swept the hair from her eyes. “I’m surprised Oguchi has never come back to finish the job.”

“The job?”

“Of killing me.”

Jack returned, his face shaved clean, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “And the scars on your belly?”

“The emergency surgery to repair my spleen. I’d sprung a serious leak.” She pulled the comforter down and her cami up to bare her chest and belly, which in the light of day was like baring her soul. She pointed to various twisted and thick scars as she talked. “Most of these are from skidding across asphalt, and these on my tummy are from surgeries.”

Jack frowned. “Who, or what, is Oguchi?”

“The Yakuza crime syndicate that wanted me dead. They generally don’t leave loose ends.” She hid her body again with the comforter.

“You’re in great shape now,” he said.

“Believe it or not, I was quite famous for my infomercial-perfect abs just a couple years ago. And this face has sold a lot of makeup back in the day. Unfortunately, now I’m more of an example of what can go wrong in a hurry.”

Jack looked closer at her face, now hours since she had makeup on.

“My face took a hit too. But through the magic of plastic surgery, and clever-handed makeup, I look pretty good again.”

He leaned down and gave her a long, wet kiss, the cool menthol scent of shave cream floating into her nose. One of her hands went to his head and held him tight, while the other tested his desire for her. He passed the test but she had to let him go.

After he showered, she watched him dress, still in her place in bed. She planned to stay there as long as possible that day, playing hooky from life and responsibilities.

“Can we do something later?” she asked.

“Like?”

“Go for a walk. Downtown Seattle is supposed to be quite pretty, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Walks are tough,” he said, cinching up his necktie. “There needs to be a planned route. Plus, we’d have security around us everywhere we went. And it’s not like we could eat lunch somewhere.”

She feigned a pout. 

“It really is easiest if we just go with whatever Leopold has prepared for us.” He slipped into his jacket. “I’ll be back soon. Just a few things to take care of.”

With that, he was out the door.

Chapter 28

KANEZAKI GRIPPED THE claw hammer a little tighter. Debt collection was an ugly but necessary part of his business in Seattle. Along with keeping an eye on that idiot Yamada, there was plenty of work to occupy him. Today’s appointment was with Arakaki-san, some lowlife from Beacon Hill. Got himself into trouble and hadn’t met his payments. Now it was time to collect. 

“I’ll ask again,” Kanezaki said in Japanese. “Where’s the money?” 

Arakaki sat tied to a chair, one hand splayed out on the table. Isa and Kimura held him down, one at the shoulders, one holding his wrist steady. Arakaki stared up, eyes wide, mouth trembling. 

“What’s that?” Kanezaki cupped an ear.

“I d-don’t h-have it,” Arakaki said. 

Kanezaki sighed. Made a show of it. Nodded at the other two. Lifted the hammer high and brought it down hard, aiming for the little finger. There was a dull
thump
as it connected, shockwaves running up through his arm. The table shook. 

Arakaki screamed. Kanezaki brought the hammer down again, aiming for the ring finger. A wet
crunch
as the hammer hit bone. Another wail of pain. There was no blood, only tears. 

“I’m going to finish this hand,” Kanezaki said. “Then you’ve got twenty-four hours to come up with the cash. If you don’t come through for me, I’ll start on your kneecaps.” He tapped the hammer on one of Arakaki’s knees. “Understand?” 

Arakaki nodded feverishly, trying to jerk his leg away. 

“Good.” He struck the man’s fingers again, and again, and again. More screams filled the tiny basement, choked and ragged by the end. After it was done, Isa and Kimura let go and untied him. Arakaki slumped to the floor, clutching at his ruined hand, wailing quietly.

“I’ll see you soon,” Kanezaki said.

The three men stalked out of the basement, let themselves out of the house. Kanezaki wiped down the hammer and tossed it in the trunk of the car. It was a Black SUV with tinted windows, clean but a little tired-looking. Nothing to draw attention. He climbed in and the others followed, buckling up in the back. 

“Time to hit the hotel,” Kanezaki said, firing up the engine. “I’ll go inside, while you two find somewhere nearby and lay low.” He rolled the car off the driveway and set off down the road. He looked in the rear view mirror and caught Isa’s and Kimura’s attention. “If anything goes wrong and I don’t get to Yamada in time,” he said, “make sure that asshole gets what he deserves.” 

The two men nodded as Kanezaki put his foot to the floor.

Chapter 29