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.
Not.
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.
His breaths were painful now, and she compulsively watched the slower and slower rise and fall of his chest. When the movement stopped, a second passed, and then all the monitors sounded shrill alarms.
When doctors and nurses burst back into the room, she stepped back, the sword still in her hand. Tears fell hotly on the shining blade, but she didn’t notice. The doctors made a cursory effort to revive Jiji, but then they disappeared one by one. Only the cancer doctor was left. He looked from Hana’s ravaged face to the blade in her hand, and then he exited again to give her privacy.
This time, Hana felt no movement at all when she knelt and rested her cheek on Jiji’s form. He was still warm, but Hana felt the loss of his spirit and goodness so acutely that the sword pricked her hand as it slithered off her lap to the floor, clattering.
Then she was sobbing, so loud she didn’t even feel another presence until a tender hand stroked down over her hair.
“Sweet Hana, I’m so sorry,” said a deep, husky voice.
She looked up and Zach was there. She didn’t question how or why. She knew only that she needed the comfort of his arms and his strength. She stood and took that tiny step to bridge the last gap between them, unabashed and unafraid in her weakness.
And he was there, arms wide and welcoming.
She buried her face against him and cried, the sword for once forgotten at their feet.
Chapter 12
An hour later, when they came for Jiji’s body, Zach looped his arm in Hana’s and led her to the door. She found her car missing and real
ized she’d probably been towed because she’d been there too long for the short-term lot.
Her senses were so dull that she didn’t care. While Zach got the information on where to get the car out of impound, she stood near the entrance, feeling chilled despite the growing warmth of the day. So many plans to make . . . Jiji had a small life-insurance policy he’d taken out years ago, enough to bury him. And Takeo? How could she get word to him? She couldn’t, because she had to be there to tell him herself.
Zach came back astride his motorcycle and put his spare helmet over her head, latching it securely. “Where do you want to go, Hana?”
Her eyes swollen with tears, she said huskily, “Ernie’s. I want a bath in his big tub.” Once she was astride his powerful Harley, though, and he’d easily maneuvered them through heavy traffic toward the freeway, she added in his ear, “The long way around.”
And so Zach drove them along Route 360 through Austin’s colorful hills, popping out now in April with mantles of blue, yellow, and red. Gorgeous native wildflowers, bluebonnet, Indian paintbrush, and sunflowers, decorated major highways throughout Texas, a legacy of Lady Bird Johnson’s 1965 beautification project.
Zach seemed to sense her need for speed and they roared across the 360 bridge. He stopped at a scenic overlook that displayed the downtown skyline. They sat there idling, and slowly the sights and sounds softened Hana’s grief to melancholy. She wrapped her arms tightly around Zach’s waist and rested her cheek, as best she could in the helmet, against his back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He made to turn, but she caught him more tightly. “Take me to Ernie’s. Will you stay with me?”
“Of course.” She felt as much as heard his murmur vibrate in his strong back.
Not since Kai had Hana trusted a man’s strength, because it could so often be turned against her. But somehow she knew that Zachary Travis would never hurt her. She gave herself into his hands, not watching the road, just moving as he moved for the short trip to Ernie’s.
When they arrived, he looked around curiously at the oddly elegant structure, but inside he only opened cabinet doors until he found a can of chicken-noodle soup. “Consuela’s would be better, but this will do in a pinch,” he said. “Go take your bath and I’ll have this waiting for you.”
She felt his gaze follow her as she went into Ernie’s luxurious master bath with its sunken, jetted tub. But as she put in foaming bath salts and made the water as hot as she could stand, she thought of Zach, the sweet caring in his eyes and touch, and the last of her bitter, self-imposed shackles fell away.
She would never be a fitting match for the rich and powerful Travis family. She had not put her heart in the care and keeping of any man but Kai, and his betrayal had hurt so much it had warped her perception of men for too long. Zachary had grown up privileged in a way she couldn’t even imagine, and she’d seen firsthand the love his entire family bestowed on him. Yet he seemed unspoiled, independent, with a wild streak that relished life in a way she fully understood. As she scrubbed her flesh until it was pink, she peered inward at a nakedness more revealing than her nudity. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes by his kindness toward a person who’d entered his life as a prime suspect of heinous acts.
He’d risked a lot to help her: His father’s respect, his job, even his standing in the elite circles he traveled if he chose her for a mate. She began to see not their differences of stature and wealth, but their similarities in temperament and ambition. To protect hearth and home, most especially those they loved. To stay strong and independent, to follow their own path whether it was sloped uphill or down.
As she stroked a soft brush over her breasts and waist, she remembered their kiss. And she knew he’d felt then what she was feeling now: a lust more than carnal, a need to take and give in equal measure. As she drained the scented water, she watched it whirl away, faster and faster, and with it went the last of her inhibitions.
She didn’t know what the future held, she reflected as she dried herself in the soft, oversized towel. She didn’t know if she’d kill her former lover or he’d kill her, though she was pretty sure one of those fates awaited her. But she could take Jiji’s training to heart and make the most of every day she had until then. Jiji would approve of her choice.
Hana stepped out of the tub and went in search of the short silk robe Ernie had loaned her.
* * *
In the kitchen, Zach puttered around, trying to ignore the sounds of splashing he could just hear through the thin walls. His heart had begun that tappety-tap, like a drummer calling soldiers to battle. No matter how he told himself to can it, now wasn’t the time, his erection grew full and needful as he imagined Hana in the bath. He so longed to go to her and tend her, not for sex, but to smooth soap into her silken skin, to massage her, to comfort her.
But he had no right for that degree of intimacy, especially when she’d just lost the man who meant the most to her. So he cut a couple of wildflowers off Ernie’s patio and put them in a crystal bud vase he’d found. He set out an embroidered place mat and even found one of those napkin thingamajigs to wrap around the matching linen napkin. He opened a good bottle of white wine and had to pour a glass to be sure it was OK. The longer her bath took, the more he decided he’d better test the vintage one more time. And once more, until he saw with surprise there was only one glass left. He put that back in the fridge to chill for Hana.
Since he hadn’t eaten all day, the wine felt a bit warm all the way to his fingertips. When he heard a sound at the door between the kitchen and what he assumed was the master suite, he was embarrassed to feel his cheeks turning red. He wasn’t usually so free with alcohol, but holy hell, this indomitable woman made him nervous.
When he saw her, standing there in a brilliant-blue silk robe that barely reached her knees, her nipples thrusting against the damp silk over her bosom, he inhaled sharply and took a huge, compulsive stride forward before he reined in his urges. Composing himself and feeling like a randy teenager confronted with the prom queen, he only managed a brusque nod. He fled to the stove to pour out her steaming soup, glad to have an excuse to turn around.
Her movements were quiet even in shoes; in her bare feet she might have glided, rather than walked over the floor. He didn’t hear a thing over the ring of utensils as he stirred the soup. The next he knew, she’d clasped her arms about his waist and snugged her torso against his back.
He’d reached for the pot handle to pour the soup, and he froze for such a long moment that his hand began to burn. He released the handle, very carefully setting the pot back down, at the same time as he managed a garbled, “Soup’s on—let me pour it for you.”
“I’m hungry,” she said softly, with a purr in her voice he’d never heard, only fantasized about. “But not for soup.”
What would he do now? If he turned around she’d feel his hard-on. If he stayed turned away like this, she’d think he wasn’t interested. He compromised by pulling her arms closer around his waist: “Hana, I didn’t come here for that,” he said sincerely. “I’m here for emotional support. I didn’t know him well at all, but it’s obvious your grandfather was your rock and I’d never take advantage of your grief—”
“I know that,” she interrupted huskily. “This is my choice, isn’t it? Besides, Jiji would be the first one to tell me to celebrate his passing with joy, not sorrow.” She lifted slightly on her toes to reach the back of his neck. She kissed her way from one throbbing pulse on the side of his neck to the other.
Every hair in his body stood on end. Between kisses, she murmured into his skin so softly that he had to strain to hear, “Love me, Zach. I know we don’t have tomorrow, because your father will never accept me. But Ernie and Jiji both would be thrilled to know I’ve finally learned to appreciate what I have today.”
Unable to resist any longer, Zach whirled and engulfed her in a bear hug so hard she gasped. He caught the breath with his kiss, but the minute he felt her sweet lips, his
desperation eased to tenderness. He relaxed his hold, pushing his hips into her abdomen so she’d feel what she did to him. He was half-afraid she’d bolt, but instead, she pushed back, moving her abdomen from side to side to show her response.
With one supple twist, she opened her robe and let it fall to the floor. “I want you. For now, that’s enough.”
His gaze ran over her compulsively. She was so fit that she didn’t have any fat, only muscle. Her arms, her legs, her flat stomach testified to a workout schedule he suspected must be even more rigorous than his own. No wonder she moved so fluidly and quietly. No wonder she’d twice escaped him in hand-to-hand fighting.
And then the analytical part of his brain that admired her physique was subsumed by a rush of pure, primitive need. He knew only one goal: to touch her, to feel her skin against his. Everywhere.
The roaring in his ears made him clumsy, but when he pulled off his shirt, her adept hands were there to assist. When he unzipped his trousers, she helped with the stubborn button. When he’d kicked them off and reached for his white jockey shorts, she’d already tucked her fingers in his waistband and pulled them down. He kicked them off, clasping her wrist to pull her toward the bedroom, but she pulled back. “No, here. The chair. I want to see your eyes.”
His need flared hotter as she led him to the large, overstuffed chair in Ernie’s living room. She had presence of mind enough to spread an afghan over the leather. Then she stepped back from him several paces, put her hands on her hips, spread her legs, and cocked her head to the side as she examined him, head to toe.
It took all his dwindling control to stand there and let her look, for while she appraised him, he absorbed every sexy inch. Her damp hair shielded and then bared her small, pert breasts with every movement. The black thatch at the apex of her legs hid but could not disguise her own arousal, for he saw it in her dilated eyes and hard-tipped nipples. Her skin was white, untouched by the sun, and if it was as soft as it looked, he wondered if he’d finish too soon. It felt like he’d been fantasizing about his ninja chick forever.
Travis Justice Page 15
