Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [80]
Hitomi-san moved forward, past Reno and Jilly, and gave Ojiisan a deep bow, one that might have denoted humility if he weren’t trying to overthrow the old man.
“Oyabun,” he said, “we have a great many things to talk about.”
“I fail to see it, Hitomi-san. You’re a cheap gangster with no honor or values. I have nothing to say to you.”
Hitomi straightened, and his face showed no emotion whatsoever. “You have no choice in the matter, Oyabun. We have matters to discuss, and if you refuse, we must use force. I don’t think you want to see your grandson die before your eyes.”
“I will if I must. He’s been raised to live and die with honor. A concept that must be strange to you.” Even in Japanese, the old man’s tones were withering.
“You live in the past, old man,” Hitomi said, dropping his attempt at courtesy. “Your men are sick of it. You’ve denied them opportunities that would enrich them and their families. You’ve betrayed your kobun by your old-fashioned ways.”
“Because I refuse to get in the drug trade, Hitomi-san? Because I find intimidation and the murder of innocent people to be a betrayal of all our organization has stood for? We are one of the oldest families, and we have always looked out for the welfare of the common people.”
“Oh, cut the Robin Hood crap,” Hitomi-said, and even Reno was startled. “The yakuza haven’t been the protector of the average family since before the war. The power is being taken by gangs like the Yamaguchi-gumi and other gurentai. There is no room for old-fashioned bakuto—the world has changed, and the yakuza has changed with it.”
“I have not changed,” the oyabun said with great dignity. “And I will not. Nor will my men.”
“You mean, the old men who still listen to you? Their time is past. The young men have allied themselves with me, and we will take over the running of the organization. You will be treated with the honor and respect owed to our elders, but you will no longer be able to tell them what they can do.”
The old man didn’t look impressed. “And my grandson and his friend? And my nephew, Takashi?”
“Your grandson and nephew will have a choice. They can follow me, pledge their loyalty to the new order, or they can die.”
“Fuck you,” Reno said in English. The phrase was universal, and Hitomi shot him a cool look.
“Behave yourself, Grandson,” the old man said calmly. “I believe Hitomi-san has the controlling hand today.”
“And you think he means a word of what he says? Even if I wanted to be a part of his gangster army, it would do no good—he’ll see to our deaths the first chance he gets.”
“So little trust,” Hitomi-san said sadly. “The girl, however, is a problem.”
“You could let her go,” the old man suggested in that calm, controlled voice. “She is no harm to you. She doesn’t understand a word you’re saying, and even if she could get someone to listen to her, they’d never believe her. Just drop her off at the American consulate and she will no longer be a problem to you.”
“Your grandson tried to convince me of the same thing. I’m afraid I am too thorough a man to let small details slip my attention. I can promise we can make her death fast. Miyavi-san is very experienced.”
The man with the knife looked up and grinned, an evil expression that was far too cheerful. Jilly moved a little farther behind Reno, and she couldn’t help it; she pressed up against him, needing to feel him, his warmth and strength. They weren’t getting out of this, she knew it. And damn, her mother was going to be pissed.
“Kobayashi-san,” Hitomi said, and the huge man moved to the center of the room. “Now is the time to show your loyalty to the new order. Hiromasa-san is correct—we would never be able to trust him. I want you to hold him while Miyavi-san finishes the gaijin. If he struggles, kill him.”
Jilly waited for Reno’s grandfather to protest, but the old man said nothing, bowing his head and putting his hands