Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [77]
“Not from Lambert,” Ella said grimly. “You’d better go…”
He was already gone. Racing back through the empty halls, his heart slamming against his chest. He’d left her, so determined to escape that he hadn’t taken the time to make sure the situation was secure. Summer was going to die because of his own stupid weakness. He’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to leave her at all, so he’d abandoned her.
And because of that, she was going to die. And he wasn’t sure he could live with that.
Summer sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, watching the nearly empty terminal. The man who was guarding her seemed busy washing the floors, ignoring her as he moved closer. It should have been a relief—someone else to keep her safe, someone ordinary. Not an exotic, beautiful, cruel creature like Taka.
How the hell had she gotten to this point? She’d looked up at him when he left her, and it was all she could do not to beg him to take her with him. Why? He was going to Japan, and yes, she’d always wanted to go there—ever since Hana-san had told her the stories of her childhood—but not at the side of a Yakuza hit man in the midst of some world-saving quest.
And since when was organized crime interested in saving the world? Shouldn’t he be more concerned with selling the urn to the highest bidder, not returning it to the Japanese government?
For that matter, who said he was a Yakuza hit man? She’d jumped to the very logical conclusion that Taka was a gangster by the number of people he’d killed since he’d pulled her out of the trunk of the limousine, and by the tattoos that covered his back. But in fact, he’d only killed to protect her.
Who and what was the committee he’d mentioned in passing? And who was this Madame Lambert she was supposed to meet, the one who was taking both her and Jilly to England?
Summer needed to be with her sister, someplace safe, far away from the Shirosama and his goons. Right now her longing to run back to Taka was just a case of temporary insanity. Of wanting to see how it ended between them. Idiot, she thought. It—they—had already ended.
But there was no reason to feel like crying. Because once she started crying she’d never stop, and she couldn’t afford to risk that. Not until she was safely out of here.
She glanced over at her guardian angel, but he was nowhere in sight. His cart, however, was still parked against one of the walls. A sudden icy panic began to spike through her, until she heard his voice directly behind her.
“Miss Hawthorne?”
She spun around, filled with relief, and looked up at the face of her bodyguard. At the bald head beneath the cap, the blank eyes. The gun in his hand.
“We need to do this discreetly,” he murmured in some kind of accent, one she couldn’t place. “If I have to shoot you, then other people will get hurt, and you wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you? Not after you’ve already caused so many deaths?”
“I didn’t cause any deaths.”
“You refused the protection of his holiness, and the man you’ve been with is nothing more than an assassin, one who kills without mercy. You need to come with me, away from this place, so that he doesn’t kill anyone else.”
“He’s already gone. He doesn’t care where I am—you can just leave me here—”
“The woman who’s coming for you is just as dangerous. She’s already killed your sister, and she’ll kill you, as well.”
“So you’re threatening to shoot me in order to keep her from killing me?” Summer said, calm and frozen. She wasn’t going to believe his hideous words. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“There’s a silencer on this gun, and no one will notice. I’ll just curl you up in the seat as if you’re sleeping, and no one will notice until blood pools underneath your seat.”
She rose slowly, knowing he meant what he’d said. “Where are you taking me?”
“Where you belong. Under the protection of his holiness.”
“I don’t have the urn,” she said. “It’s out of my hands. I don’t have anything the Shirosama wants.”
“That is up to his holiness to determine. Walk very slowly and don’t