Taka was gone when she finally woke, and Summer was almost glad. She wasn’t quite sure how she could face him after the endless night they’d spent.

She woke, instinctively wary, with the real fear that something was wrong. Had she been stupid enough to tell him she loved him? Had she felt him freeze in sudden rejection?

No, she had to have dreamed it. Because he’d woken her again and again, taking her to dark, unexpected places where nothing was forbidden, until her entire body ached, her flesh shivered and either she’d slept or passed out, she wasn’t sure.

But now she was alone, trying to pull some kind of calm back around her in the bright light of day. There were no defenses left—he’d stripped every one away, and she wouldn’t have called them back even if she could.

But neither could she spend the day in bed, waiting for his return.

He was gone, and the urn was missing as well. She wondered where he’d taken it if he’d be back. Of course, he would. And she’d be there, waiting for him.

Even Reno’s shower was a bit scary, she thought as she stood under the hot streams of water coming at her from the oddest directions. With his fascination for new technology, he’d done away with a bathtub altogether, a real shame, since right then there was nothing Summer needed more than a long, soothing soak. She ached all over. She could tell herself it was from the long plane ride, but knew perfectly well that had very little to do with it, unless she counted the time spent in the bathroom. She was achy and sore in unexpected places, aware of muscles in her hips and thighs she didn’t think she’d ever used, and all she wanted was to luxuriate in hot water for an hour, then start using them again.

Taka would be back, probably with Reno, who’d only get in the way. Despite the endless hours in the darkened bedroom, Taka would likely try to talk her into staying while he went off into the mountains after the Shirosama. But he should know by now that she wasn’t going to listen. She was coming with him; she’d gone through too much just to sit behind and wait for news from the front line.

He was perfectly capable of tying her up and locking her in a closet—all for her own good, he’d say. She wouldn’t mind being locked in, if he was in the closet with her. She stepped out of the shower, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment she was shocked by what she saw.

She looked different. Healthy and glowing, despite the trauma of the last few days. She looked like someone who’d found what she’d been missing all her life.

Okay, so she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with someone who used sex as a weapon. Fallen in love with a man who’d saved her life countless times, protected her, infuriated her, lied to her, seduced her and given her the best sex she’d ever had.

She could find someone else who was as good in bed as he was. Or at least good enough. Someone who’d had enough practice. But the fact of the matter was, Taka’s finesse in the sack wasn’t just technique. Yes, he knew what to touch, how hard, how soft, how to use his mouth, his hands, his hips, his entire body to bring her shattering pleasure. But deep in her heart she suspected that any man could master any of the same moves and the experience would leave her cold and frustrated. Emotion had nothing to do with sex as far as he was concerned.

Emotion was everything with Summer. And she was enmeshed with Taka, body, mind and soul—addicted to him—and had no idea how she’d ever break away.

There was no way she could change things. She was part of his assignment. She wasn’t insecure enough to think he didn’t find the same kind of pleasure in her body, but he could probably turn that on and off for anyone. Including the woman he was supposed to marry.

Summer would have to learn to live without him, and soon. And like all addictions, the first step to letting go was admitting the habit.

The next step was to get over it.

She felt very strange dressing in Reno’s clothes. She’d lost weight during the last few days, and he liked his jeans as baggy as he liked his leather tight, so she had no trouble pulling them up around her ample American butt. She laughed at the underwear Taka had unearthed—Reno had a secret weakness for tiger stripes and pastels. She put her fancy bra on, wincing slightly at the tenderness in her breasts and then dismissing it as she pulled a T-shirt over her head. It was lime-green, blindingly bright, and said On The Verge Of Destruction. Not exactly her color, but the saying was apt and she didn’t fancy pawing through his clothes to find something more suitable.

She even found a pair of orange sneakers—too big on her, of course, but with a couple of pairs of socks and tying the laces tightly, they’d do. She wasn’t going to be heading into the mountains in those high heels, no matter how effective a weapon they could be.

Of course, Taka didn’t think she’d be heading into the mountains at all. He was about to find out otherwise.

She headed into the kitchen, made herself a bowl of instant miso soup and dished up some rice from the rice cooker. The meal probably wasn’t big on nutrition, but at least it was filling.

In a drawer, she found a paring knife. A nasty little thing more suited for street fighting than kitchen work, but it would do very nicely if Taka made the mistake of trying to abandon her. It would cut through rope or duct tape quite handily.

She heard the door open as she was washing the dishes, but she didn’t turn. Reno no longer scared her—he was trying too hard. And if it was Taka, he’d come up behind her, press his body against hers, and she could lean back, sinking into the heat and strength of him, letting go…

It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react. Something was pressed over her mouth and nose, and she breathed in the stink of it before she could react or lash out. The knife, she thought dizzily. She needed to get to the knife.

She felt herself falling, and something was placed over her head, closing out the light, closing out everything, and her last thought was, Wasn’t this how the whole damn thing started?

“What are you going to do about her?” his cousin asked. “Not that it’s any of my business, but your grandfather will want to know.”

“Send her back to America as soon as this is over,” Taka said grimly, putting Hitoshi Komoru’s credit card down on the pile of outdoor clothing he was buying.

“And you’ll be going with her?”

“No. She’ll go back to her own life. I’ll go on to my next assignment.”

“With the Committee? You still think you can save the world, cousin?”

“It’s worth trying,” Taka replied.

“I’m not convinced of that.”

“You’re young,” Taka said. He was in a foul mood. Considering he’d spent the night fucking his brains out, he ought be feeling a little more even tempered, but right now he wanted to hit something, anything. In a pinch, Reno would do.

“Five years younger than you, you old fart. That just makes you stuffier, not smarter.”

Taka stared at Reno haughtily. “And you’re so happy working for your grandfather? Overseeing gambling parlors and the sex trade?”

Reno shrugged. “What are you suggesting—that I join your shadow organization and try to save the world, as well? Not exactly my style. Don’t you have enough heroes?”

“There’s a lot of turnover. It’s a little too easy to get killed in my line of work.”

Reno grinned. “You tempt me, cousin. Almost. But as long as you’re around I’ll just concentrate on sex and gambling. Better to stick to the simpler pleasures in life. Besides, Grandfather wouldn’t be happy if you lured me away.”

“He’d let you go. I asked him.”

Reno pushed his sunglasses up, fixing his cousin with a sharp stare. “You can mind your own fucking business,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “You’re the one who’s busy screwing up his world by screwing the gaijin.”

“You’re forgetting, I’m half-gaijin myself.”

“I try to overlook that particular failing.”

“And you’re—”

“Don’t even say it,” Reno warned.

Takashi had said enough. The cashier handed him the tray with his credit card and receipt, and he took it, shoving it in his back pocket before turning back to the bristling Reno. “Just think about it,” he said. Madame Lambert would make mincemeat of his little cousin—something he’d pay good money to see. And with Reno complicating his life, he’d have less time to think about mistakes living in L.A.

Reno responded with an epithet vulgar enough to make the cashier blush, and Taka punched him in the arm. “Behave yourself, cousin.”

Reno just snorted, stalking out of the store into the wintry morning air. “I noticed you didn’t get any clothes for your girlfriend.”

“She’s not coming with me.”

“She’s not staying with me,” Reno warned. “I put up with her for your sake, but if you’re not around I’d probably strangle her.”

“She’s harder to kill than you might think,” he said.

Reno just looked at him. “Holy motherfucker,” he said. “You’re in love with the gaijin.”

“In love?” Taka echoed, managing a derisive laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“What’s that got to do with anything? And if you’ve fallen in love with her, then you’re the crazy one. Love’s a waste of time. Love’s like a knife—it’ll cut your balls off and stab you in the back.”

“And what, little cousin, would you know about love?” he countered softly.

“I keep as far away from it as I can, which I thought you’d be smart enough to do as well. Grandfather found a woman willing to marry you, and sooner or later you could become the good salaryman he always wanted. He could almost forget your parentage, and while he wouldn’t leave the company to someone of impure blood, he’d at least leave you a shitload of money and his fancy houses. And Mitsuko has a very nice ass, if you ask me.”

“She has a very nice ass,” Taka agreed. “But I don’t want it. Or the houses, or the company.”

“Don’t tell me you want the American?”

“No,” Taka said, not even considering whether it was a lie or not. “Sooner or later she’d drive me crazy.”

“Probably sooner,” Reno said. “So where are you going to stash her while we go into the mountains? I don’t think there’s time to put her on a plane back home, which is where she needs to be.”

“We?”

“Don’t you remember American television? The line is ‘What’s this we, white man?’ I’m going with you. Where do we stash the girl?”

“You’re not coming with me,” Taka said flatly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave her with you. You must know someone who can babysit her. Someone who doesn’t understand English, so she won’t drive him crazy. Someone who won’t get distracted and let her out of his sight.”

“Crazy Jumbo might do it. Former sumo wrestler, not too bright. He’d just sit on her if she got too yappy.”

“I don’t—”

A loud screeching of guitars interrupted him, and Reno dived into his leather jacket for his cell phone. “What?” he snarled. His expression changed, his voice lowered, and he moved off to a less crowded piece of the sidewalk. By the time Taka caught up with him Reno had already finished the conversation and was looking rattled. It took a lot to get Reno rattled.

“That was Grandfather. They’ve got Su-chan.”

Taka didn’t even notice Reno’s use of the affectionate term. “Who does?” His voice was deadly.

“Who do you think?” Reno said. “They want the urn, or they’re going to liberate her to her next karmic level, according to the note Grandfather got. You’re supposed to bring them the urn.”

Taka’s blood had frozen in his veins, like the cold winter wind swirling through the crowded city. “Where?”

“You’re kidding, right? You can’t give it to them. They’ll kill her anyway, and if you give them the relic they’ll be able to start their holy war. You can’t do it.”

Taka dropped his package of clothes, caught Reno’s leather jacket in one hand and slammed him against the wall. “Where?”

“Tonight, at the ruins of the temple. Either your girlfriend told them, or they’ve bugged my apartment. It doesn’t matter which—they know where the ancient site is, and they want you there. You’re just playing into their hands, Taka-san. They’ll kill her and they’ll kill you. I don’t care how skilled you are, one man against so many is doomed.”

“Two men, Reno. You’re coming with me.”

Reno detached Taka’s hand from his jacket, brushing it lazily. “I thought you’d see it my way sooner or later. Let’s go.”

She felt sick. At least this time she was in the back seat of a car and not in the trunk, for all the good it did her. She still had a bag over her head, but at some point they’d changed her clothes, and she was wearing something loose and light. And cold. Her hands were tied behind her back and something was across her mouth so she couldn’t scream. She was curled up in a corner of some kind of vehicle, and the ride was very bumpy, as if they were going over a road of logs and tree stumps. There was a familiar, unpleasant smell in the car, and it took her only a moment to recognize it. The True Realization Fellowship favored a particularly sickly sweet incense, and the scent clung to the followers’ clothing. She moved her head down to her shoulder and sniffed the fabric of whatever they’d put her in. The same nasty stuff.

Who else would have gone to all the trouble to grab her? She couldn’t figure out why—supposedly the only reason they’d kept her alive was because she could lead them to the ancient shrine. Yet they already seemed to know where it was—she only hoped she hadn’t babbled something during some forgotten, drug-induced questioning. They had nothing to gain by kidnapping her, unless they thought she still had the urn.

But if they’d managed to track her down to Reno’s apartment, then their information was up-to-the-minute, and they’d know she didn’t have the urn; Taka did.

“I believe she’s awake, your holiness.”

Shit. She shouldn’t have moved. She was much better off huddled in the corner being ignored. The bag was pulled from her head, and she blinked at the unexpected brightness of the day. And then focused on her nemesis, sitting in meditative stillness on the seat opposite her, his white hair flowing, his bleached white skin the color of death, his eyes milky.

He turned in her direction. He was almost blind, she realized, wondering if that would do her even a spit of good.

“Remove the covering from her mouth, Brother Heinrich, so that I may hear her thoughts,” he said in that singsong voice.

Brother Heinrich ripped the duct tape from her mouth, and she almost screamed. She remembered him—he was one of the men in the alleyway, the one who had gotten away. He had flat, cold eyes of a bright, Germanic blue, thin lips and no hair whatsoever. And he scared the piss out of her.

“Do you want me to untie her as well, your holiness?” he asked, his German accent thick.

“I think not, my son. I doubt we need to worry, even if she becomes violent, but leaving her bound will aid her in the stillness she seeks.”

“I’m not seeking stillness and I only become violent when people kidnap me,” she said in a husky voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Brother Heinrich backhanded her across the face, and her head whipped back under the assault. “You will address his holiness with respect.”

“Fuck you. And him.”

Crack. His fist hit the other side of her face, and through the blinding pain she thought vaguely that at least the bruising would be symmetrical. But then, the Japanese preferred things asymmetrical, and the first and last man she was ever fool enough to love was half-Japanese. He wouldn’t like a symmetrical corpse.

“Don’t be too hard on the girl, Brother Heinrich,” the Shirosama said in his spooky voice. “She has been brainwashed by the man who abducted her, stole her from our care.”

“Stole me from your car, you mean. Why was I dumped in the trunk of your limo if you were so worried about my well-being?”

He nodded benevolently toward her. “My followers were perhaps a bit rash. They merely wanted to get you out of harm’s way. They knew the man was watching you, and they were trying to save your life.”

“Save my life?” she countered. “You’re the one who’s been trying to kill me.”

“Oh, no, child. We weren’t the ones who held you under the water at your house that night. If you think on it, I expect you’ll remember other times where you nearly died at O’Brien’s hands. Times when you thought he’d saved you. You needn’t be ashamed by your foolishness—he’s a dangerous, evil man, more than a match for an innocent girl like yourself.”

“Hardly a girl,” she snapped, even though a cold knot had formed in the pit of her stomach. Taka had told her he wasn’t going to kill her, and she hadn’t thought any more about it. Had those been his hands holding her under the water in her tub until she passed out?

“You’re remembering, aren’t you?” the blind man said. “I thought you might. Life is never as simple as it appears to be, and those you think are your enemies can often be your best friends. And those you trust with your life can betray you.”

She wouldn’t, couldn’t, think about that. The Shirosama was trying to manipulate her—persuasion was a cult leader’s stock in trade, and she wasn’t going to let him affect her. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to give you safe haven.”

“I’ll bet. Where are we headed?”

“You are a very wise young woman, Summer. Even your mother admits that much. You would be a great asset to our movement.”

“Where are you taking me?”

The Shirosama sighed. “I think you know. I have people everywhere—the moment you discover something, my people find it out as well. We’re heading to White Crane Mountain, you should have realized that much. You’re not as bright as your little sister, of course. We were hoping she would be open to my teachings, but you know how difficult youth can be. They never listen to the voice of wisdom.”

“I guess I’m younger than I thought. You’re the voice of bullshit.”

She was rewarded with another blow from Heinrich’s meaty hands. There, that would keep her face unbalanced.

“Stop hitting her, Brother Heinrich,” the Shirosama said in his soft little voice. He was beginning to remind her of a Japanese albino Truman Capote, she thought, suppressing the sudden urge to giggle. She must be getting hysterical, and this time Taka was not around to snap her out of it.

“I haven’t given up hope of your sister,” the Shirosama said. “The best and the brightest will survive the upcoming conflagration, and she should be one of them. She’ll turn to the light by then, if she hasn’t already.”

“If you mean by ‘turn to the light’ that she’ll think you’re anything but a bloated, psychotic charlatan I can tell you it will be a cold day in hell when that happens.”

“Heinrich.” The Shirosama’s soft lisp stopped his henchmen in time. “It’s no wonder the poor girl is confused. We’ve helped many of the lost and deluded to find their way out of this karmic snare. We’ll help her, too.”

“And just how do you help people out of their karmic snare, your holiness?” Summer asked in a sarcastic voice.

The Shirosama turned his paper-white face toward her and smiled benevolently. “By helping them into their next life, child. How else?”