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The rain was letting up, slowing to a drizzle, and the traffic was beginning to thin. With the total illogicality of nature, her stomach had stopped its nauseous roll and now she was hungry again. Starving. They were speeding by fast-food places, and Summer, who’d been flirting with whole grains and vegetarianism, started craving an In-N-Out Burger with a fiery passion. She said nothing, until he turned right, and then she forgot all about food.
As he turned the corner again she knew far too well his eventual destination.
“It’s a waste of time taking me to my mother’s house,” she said. “The bowl isn’t there.”
“Where is it?”
Why the hell had she told him the one in the museum was a fake? If she hadn’t volunteered that information he probably would have left her alone. Then again, he wouldn’t have com
e after her when she was trapped in that alleyway, and God knows where she’d be right now. At the bottom of a cliff with poor Micah?
She couldn’t think about that—it was too painful. “What’s the big deal about the bowl? Granted, it’s beautiful, and very old, but it’s not worth killing for.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. Clearly a number of people disagree with you.”
“Then maybe I should just hand it over to them and end this nightmare.”
There was absolutely no change in his expression. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not? It’s mine—my old nanny left it to me…”
“I believe Hana Hayashi left it in your care, not as a gift. It belongs to Japan, not some California gaijin who doesn’t realize its value.”
“You’re obviously half-gaijin yourself, so there’s no need to be snotty,” she said. “And the urn is seventeenth century Edo period, probably made between 1620 and 1660. It should be worth anywhere between one hundred and fifty thousand to three hundred thousand on the open market—probably closer to three hundred thousand dollars because of the distinctive ice blue glaze. People don’t murder for less than half a million dollars.”
“How naive are you? In some parts of the world people will commit murder for a handful of coins. Just because you’ve lived a safe, insular life doesn’t mean the rest of the world is so well protected.” There was no emotion, not even condemnation in his cool, deep voice. Just a statement of fact.
Summer shivered. She couldn’t help it—she’d done everything she could to put her life before Hana out of her mind, but every now and then it resurfaced, as it did now, in the words of an arrogant, disturbingly beautiful man.
“Not as safe and well protected as you might think,” she said finally, staring out at the rain as it ran down the smoked windows of the car. They were still heading toward her mother’s house, and she didn’t know how to stop him. Only that she had to.
“Apparently not,” he said after a moment. The man was too damn observant. “Otherwise you’d be a basket case. I haven’t see you cry—not over your friend, not out of fear. Very impressive.”
His words were like a punch to the stomach. “I don’t cry. No matter how bad things are, I never cry. It’s a waste of time. Crying won’t bring Micah back, crying won’t change anything. Would you prefer I was sitting here blubbering?”
“Yes.”
She stared at his elegant profile in the darkened interior of the car. “Why?”
“Because it’s an anomaly, and I don’t like anomalies.”
“Tough shit.”
She had to imagine the faint movement of his mouth, what in another man might have almost been the beginnings of a smile. And then the thought vanished as he turned down the broad street that led to her stepfather’s gated mansion.
“No!” she said, her voice rising in panic. “It’s not here.”
“Then where is it?”
He pulled up to the security gate and put the car in Park, punching in a security code that he shouldn’t have had before turning to look at her.
The gate began to slide open, and Summer’s panic began to spike. “Listen, I told you, it’s not here,” she said for the thousandth time. “There’s no reason for us to go up there. We don’t need to involve my family in this mess—put them in danger.”
“It was your mother who put you in danger in the first place, and they’re already involved. Your idiot mother is one of the Shirosama’s most devoted followers. If the Shirosama’s men haven’t already been here then they’ll come soon.”
“No!” Summer said in horror. “We can’t…I’ll give them the bowl…”
“What are you so afraid of? Don’t tell me you’re trying to protect your mother. She already fed you to the wolves, and I imagine she’d do so again.”
