Travis Justice (12 page)

“I—I don't know what you mean, ma'am.”

Mary gave an impatient little shake of her head. “I detest that term. I'm not in my dotage yet.” She leaned forward. “I mean, my dear rebellious Ms. Nakatomi—After this is all over, do you want my son enough to change your ways and conform to what will be required of you to be a Travis?”

* * *

Outside Austin, in the farmhouse on the limestone cliffs, Hana's offspring faced his sensei with a similar mulish expression.

Takeo, sweat ringing the arm pits of his
gi
, stood in the corner of the ring, his
bo
on the floor before him, his arms crossed over his stalwart little chest. “I'm tired, Uncle Ernie. I want to paint.”

Ernie picked up the
bo
and offered it to his pupil. “I know, Takeo. Just thirty minutes more and then we'll break for breakfast.” Since he'd arrived, Ernie had worked his new student relentlessly. Takeo thought it was so Kai would approve of him, but Ernie had a far simpler motivation: to keep him away from Kai as much as he could. Kai had approved of the tough regimen, even allowing them extra time over other lessons.

When he wasn't training Takeo, he was training Kai's men. And his diligence was paying off in another key way: The watchful gaze of his captors was becoming less vigilant. They were beginning to believe he'd come here just to train them, that he had no other motivation other than his fat briefcase full of cash.

However, Ernie never made the trek down the circular stairs without noting which rooms were lit and occupied at what hours. Occasionally, he even saw people enter or exit, so he knew all the rooms were controlled by electronic keypad codes. He'd still seen no sign of a control room or computers, so even if he could get away long enough to do a frantic e-mail, he had no access. Instead, he concentrated on Takeo and creating a new schedule for him, so he'd know where the boy was any time of the day or night.

He and Takeo were sitting at breakfast, eating rice and smoked fish, when a commotion sounded outside: Shouting, a piercing, long scream. Then silence. Automatically, Ernie rose to close the heavy dining-room doors. Then he moved to stand protectively behind Takeo's chair. Takeo tried to rise, but Ernie held him still.

“No. This is your father's affair, not yours.” Ernie had heard the sounds of torture often enough to recognize them.

“But—” Before Takeo could finish his sentence, the doors opened and Kai's trusted lieutenant entered.

“Come. Both of you. Kai wants you to see this.”

Ernie hesitated, but when hard, dark eyes narrowed on him, he picked Takeo up and carried him into the living room, as the man indicated, then through a side door into the enclosed garage. It was the first time he'd been inside the garage, and even in the stress of the moment, Ernie noted another door led off a side wall. It not only had a keypad, it had a heavy, vault-like metal door. No window and no sound, but Ernie realized he'd just glimpsed the entrance to the control room.

However, it was the scene in the middle of the garage that riveted him and Takeo. A man, his bare chest imprinted with various Edo Shihan tattoos, was suspended by his wrists from hooks in the ceiling. His head was bent down on his chest, but he groaned again as Kai, standing before him, whacked him with a short stick on his upper arms. Ernie realized the tattoos looked so vivid partly because the man was covered with bruises. The curling dragon covering his entire chest looked untouched.

Kai, bare-chested, revealing a similar tattoo in the same colors on his own prominent pecs, stood before his prisoner. He took a
tanto
from his belt and poised it over the snarling dragon tattoo on the man's chest. “Takeo, I want you to see this. He will no longer wear my colors. He's a traitor. He knew the consequences of betrayal.”

Takeo quit squirming in Ernie's arms and went very still. For a long moment, Takeo stared at his father. Then, like the little boy he still was, he hid his face in Ernie's shoulder and began to cry.

When Kai lifted the knife again, Ernie spit out, “He's five, Kai. Allow him to grow up a little before you turn him into your miniature!” He held the back of Takeo's head so the boy couldn't look. But Takeo was limp in his arms, and Ernie knew he was too scared to peek.

“He has to know how to deal with enemies,” Kai snapped. “This traitor has been feeding information about my operation to the Green Gang.” Kai belted the
tanto
and strode up to Ernie. “Give him to me.”

Ernie took two steps back. “No.”

When Kai angrily reached for his son, Ernie said rapidly, “You know his entire training is dependent on learning to clear his mind. Do you really want him to be seeing this as the endgame every time he spars in the ring? He has to learn peace before he can know the glories of war.”

A long, tense silence. Then Kai's hands dropped. He jerked his head at the door and looked at his lieutenant. “Get them out of here. He's seen enough. For now.”

Without further prompting, Ernie carried Takeo back to the dining room, but when he set him gently into his chair, Takeo ignored his half-full plate.

Ernie waited and when the lieutenant closed the door and left them alone, he turned Takeo's chair around and knelt before him, smoothing his hands down over Takeo's knees in his baggy trousers. “It's okay, bud. Your father would never hurt you that way. And that man—well, he wasn't a good man, either.”

Takeo dashed the last of his tears on his sleeve. “But he'd do it to you, wouldn't he, Uncle Ernie? And anyone else who doesn't obey him.”

Ernie looked away. How could he tell a son that his father was a horrible man?

But Takeo learned very quickly, just as Hana had foretold. He said slowly, “My daddy is mean. He wants to make me mean too.”

A lump in his throat, Ernie could only nod.

And then Takeo asked the next exquisitely logical question: “Uncle Ernie, what will my papa do to Mama if she comes and fights with him to get me away?”

* * *

In the more genteel confines of Tarrytown, Hana stared across the table at Zach's mother. “If your son is interested in me as more than a possible suspect, he hasn't conveyed that.” When Mary gave her a skeptical look, Hana nervously arranged and rearranged her silverware to avoid meeting her eyes. Surely Mary didn't know about that passionate kiss, or Zach's obvious response to it. But that was only sex . . . a far step from that to the altar.

Mary sighed. “Very well, then. We'll table this for now, but I think we both know the subject will likely arise again. Please do me the courtesy of seriously thinking over what we've discussed. I assure you I've never had this talk with any of Zach's other . . . ah, dates. But I know my son very well.”

Nodding, Hana stood quickly, taking long strides toward the patio door. Lord, she'd rather be in chains again than to suffer through another interrogation like this one! Her hand was on the door lever when Mary interrupted, her tone very matter-of-fact.

“Ms. Nakatomi, one last thing, please.” When Hana reluctantly turned to face her, Mary shoved back her own untouched plate. She took a bracing sip of coffee, then looked at Hana again, that trace of mischief back in her eyes. “Before you go, wouldn't you like to know how John and I met?”

No. Not really
. But Hana could only nod, the etiquette her mother had drilled into her not forgotten.

Mary wiped her mouth and rose. “Why, he arrested me. On drug charges.” She smiled broadly at the utter shock on Hana's face.

Her laugh lines on display again in a way that added character, not years, to her face, she finished succinctly: “You and I are more alike than you know. You see, I was a rebellious debutante, the youngest of my very proper older sisters. I had my tattoos removed when I wed John, who even then was a very conservative DPS trooper. As I said, like father, like son. You might think of that too as you contemplate a possible future with Zach. All I ask is that you keep an open mind. None of us are ever what we seem only on the surface, are we? We'll talk again after all of this is over.”

Hana fled, totally confused. Was the woman giving her blessing or offering a word of caution? She absolutely didn't know.

She'd look forward to another chat, all right.

Still pondering the strange Travis family, Hana had barely started the small car and turned toward Ernie's place before her cell phone beeped shrilly. She'd set an alarm to go off whenever she heard from Jiji's doctor. The clarion ring tone she'd selected instantly terrified her because she knew what it meant. At a light, she looked down at her screen.

The message said only:
Come immediately.
It was signed by Jiji's cancer specialist.

* * *

Inside the Tarrytown mansion, Zach sat across from his mother. “What did you say to her? She lit out of here like a scalded cat.”

“You know your father is opposed to this girl as a . . . date for you?”

Zach shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, I wanted to get to know her a bit. She's quite . . . formidable.”

“If she held her own with you, I agree,” Zach said with a half laugh. “But you didn't have to scare the bejesus out of her.”

“Did you know she plans to face this Kai person alone?”

Zach scowled. “Luckily, it's not her decision. She's an informant, not a crusader.”

“Zach, don't you understand that when you gave her the sword, you also bestowed on her—in her mind, at least—a sacred obligation to protect both her son and her family name? This man has betrayed her and tried to frame her for horrendous crimes she didn't commit. What do you expect her to do in response?”

Zach leaped to his feet, appalled. Dear God, he'd not thought this far....

“Zachary,” his mother began, and at the sound of his full name, Zach knew he wouldn't like what she was about to say.

He was relieved when his phone interrupted with a
beep
. Excusing himself to a quiet corner of the lawn, he took the call from Abigail. “Yes?”

“You know we tapped Hana's cell phone?” she asked without preamble.

“Dad told me, yes.”

“She just got a text from her grandfather's cancer doctor. He told her to come immediately. I thought you'd want to know.” Abby hung up.

With only a quick, “Later,” to his mother, Zach rushed into the garage. Hana hadn't asked for moral support, but Zach knew only that she needed it, and he needed to offer it. He took his bike, because it was fastest.

* * *

Hana reached Jiji's hospital room in record time because she didn't bother with the eight-story parking garage; she left the economy car in the emergency short-term lot. She ran the distance to his room, fighting back tears and praying too. She'd so hoped to let him hold Takeo one more time.

Hana burst into Jiji's hospital room to find a team of doctors tending to him. They adjusted his drip, consulting the chart displayed on his TV screen. Quietly, they all conferred over the list of drugs they were giving him. Two nurses, meanwhile, tended to Jiji, removing soiled bedding and gently turning his frail form over so he wouldn't get bedsores.

Hana just stood there, knowing what this gathering meant. Knowing this would be the last time she saw him alive. She was frozen a step into the room, still in the doorway, between the past he'd made bearable and the empty future without him. The supervising cancer doctor looked up and saw her. At the tears she couldn't hide, he waved everyone else away until the room was quiet except for the sound of Jiji breathing into his respirator.

The doctor came over to her and said quietly, “We've done all we can. I don't . . . believe he even wants to fight any longer.”

Hana's voice was thick with tears. “He's wanted to go for a long time.”

The doctor nodded. “I'm going to leave you both alone. His great-grandson Takeo. He's asked for him multiple times. Is it possible to get him here?”

Hana could only shake her head, and her hatred of Kai was acid in her veins.

The doctor went to the door. “Please try not to upset him.” Then he was gone.

Hana crept to the bed and took her grandfather's hand. It was cold. She pulled his covers up, panicking for a second because his chest didn't seem to be moving, but then Jiji took a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open.

Weakly, he tried to clasp her hand, but she barely felt it.

Hana wanted to be strong.

She wanted to offer him a last, loving smile.

She wanted to take to heart and soul every lesson he'd tried to teach her.

She knew he was in pain and it was selfish of her to want him to stay.

But she only had strength enough to fall to her knees beside him.

She tried a wavering smile, but it dissolved into sobs. She buried her face in his covers so he wouldn't see.

Something gave him strength enough to smooth down her hair. He struggled to remove the breathing mask, and she lifted her head long enough to slip it down so he could speak.

“Shhh . . . our ancestors will watch over you, Hana,” he said, wheezing between every word, his words so labored she had to strain to hear. “Teach Takeo what I've taught you.” He fell back, exhausted. He tried to touch the sword on the sheath attached to her back, but he was too weak.

Knowing what he wanted, Hana removed the sword and laid it across his chest. With a deeper, contented breath, he clutched it, but he was so weak it began to fall, and she had to help support it. He seemed happier knowing it was there, and the pain on his face eased to a peace that was so final she knew it would be his last expression. Then his breathing grew so ragged she had to put the mask over his mouth again.