Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [76]
There were just the right number of people in the terminal—enough to keep things safe, not too many that they’d interfere or cause problems. Gate 11 was deserted—the next flight out was five hours later—and Taka pushed her into one of the hard plastic seats facing the walkway. He could have stashed her in one of the VIP lounges, but that’s where the Shirosama’s buddies would be looking for her. Better to be out in the open. Madame Lambert had picked this place, and she knew as well as anyone the best possible spot for a pickup.
Taka finally let go of Summer, because he had no more reason to touch her. He glanced at his watch, needing to walk away, fast.
“Madame Lambert will be here in forty-five minutes. In the meantime Crosby’s over there with the mop, and he’ll be looking out for you. No one will bother you. If anyone tries, just scream as loud as you can.”
Summer gazed up at him, and for a moment he froze. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re about to get everything you want. Your sister, safety—and you’ll never have to see me again. Why are you looking stricken?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, lowering her eyes.
He couldn’t stop himself; he caught her chin and tilted her face back up to his. “All right, so your house is destroyed, your best friend killed and you’ve lost a sentimental cookie jar and an antique kimono. But you’re alive, your sister’s alive and you’re both going to stay that way. Plus, I’m out of here. You’re going to England, I’m going to Japan, and if you ask, Madame Lambert will make sure you forget you ever met me. Even if you don’t ask she’ll probably see to it. So you only have a little while longer to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
Oh, Christ. He looked down into her blue eyes, those eyes that never cried, and he could see tears there. Impossible, but there was no mistaking the lost, broken expression. “Stop it,” he said roughly.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that, or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what?”
He really didn’t know what he’d do. Kiss her. Shoot her. She was making him crazy, and he couldn’t afford to let that happen. “What do you want from me?” he demanded in a harsh undertone. Crosby would be listening to every word, probably taping it.
She didn’t answer, and Taka didn’t expect her to. She didn’t know what she wanted, and right then she was just too worn-out and confused to even begin to guess. He was the only constant in her life right now, and she was afraid to let him go. He could understand that. It had nothing to do with him, more a case of better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. So he said nothing more than “Goodbye,” and walked away without a backward glance, nodding at Crosby as he went.
Takashi moved through the crowds swiftly, heading back toward the car. His contact, Ella Fancher, was waiting, dressed as a flight attendant, and he handed her the keys. “Pack everything and get it on my plane,” he muttered. “I don’t know what’s important and what’s not.”
She nodded, handing him the packet of materials he’d requested. New passport, e-ticket to Narita Airport, new credit cards. “Where’d you leave the girl?”
“What makes you think I didn’t finish her?”
He’d known Ella for a good five years—they’d even been lovers for a short time, and they’d remained friends. “Because I know you, Taka. It would take more than Isobel Lambert’s orders to make you kill an innocent. She knows that, as well. That’s why she chose you for this particular assignment.”
“She chose me because of my background,” he replied. “And ‘the girl’is sitting up at the gate, waiting for Lambert to pick her up. Crosby’s keeping an eye on her to make sure no one bothers her.”
“Crosby?” Ella’s face turned pale. “Crosby’s dead.”
He could feel the blood freeze in his veins. “What do you mean?”
“Crosby was killed in that shootout up at Lake Arrowhead. Who told you Crosby was going to be there?”
“Text message from Madame Lambert,