The smirk vanished, and his eyes narrowed. “You can call me Reno.”
“Is that what your grandfather calls you?”
“My grandfather calls me a disgrace to his name since I turned my back on the family business. And I don’t blame him—if I hadn’t left, he wouldn’t be in this mess now.”
“What mess? Exactly what’s going on with your grandfather besides a little gang warfare?”
“You have no idea,” he said, his voice like ice.
“You could tell me.”
For a moment she thought he’d say nothing. “My grandfather is old school. Very old school. And his family follows his code. He won’t touch drug dealing, the sex trade, arms trading. He’s part of the old Robin Hood ethic. And Hitomi and the men who are listening to him are part of the new wave.”
“If they don’t deal drugs or prostitution or weapons, what is it they do? They sound pretty harmless to me.”
“They’re bakuto. They mostly deal with gambling, protection, counterfeit luxury goods. Mostly soft crimes that are committed without force. Unfortunately, they don?
??t bring in the kind of money and power that the gurentai could give them.”
“Gurentai?”
“More like your American mafia.”
“And Hitomi is part of that?”
“It seems like it. And I don’t know how far it goes. I never would have thought Kobayashi would turn his back on the old man.” He moved over to the window, looking out into the darkness. “Until I find out, there’s nothing I can do but keep you here. No matter how much I want to get rid of you, I can’t risk it,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ve put up with you for too long to fail now.”
“What about my parents? My sister? They don’t think I’m dead, do they? I don’t want to put them through that kind of grief. And yes, as hard as it is for you to believe, my death will upset my family. Not everyone finds me a royal pain in the ass.” She paused, thinking about it. “As a matter of fact, I don’t know anyone who considers me a royal pain in the ass except you. Why?”
“They haven’t been trapped with you for three days,” he said, turning his back on her and heading into the kitchen area. “Maybe everyone else has only seen your best side. If you’ve lived your life without annoying anyone, then you must be very boring.”
“You don’t find me boring,” she said, watching him.
He didn’t turn back, concentrating on opening the carton. “Life would be easier if I did,” he muttered.
Okay, that was interesting. Had she somehow managed to get past his cool, heartless soul? Now he was reminding her of something out of Kingdom Hearts, her favorite video game, though she couldn’t remember who.
But he was no Disney-anime cross, and she needed to remember that. He was a man—granted, a hot one—but more trouble than he was worth. Besides, Summer would kill her.
“So you brought me food?” Anything was better than thinking about something she could never, should never, have.
“You’re obsessed. The sashimi is for me—I wouldn’t want to waste it on an inexperienced gaijin. I brought you oyakudon and miso soup. The Japanese version of macaroni and cheese and chicken soup.”
“You think I need comfort food?”
He turned his head to look at her. “I’m just trying to keep you quiet and docile while I figure out what to do next.”
“I hate to tell you this, but the price of inner peace comes a little higher than macaroni and cheese.”
“I don’t give a shit about your inner peace—it’s your silence I’m looking forward to.” He turned back, then jumped a bit, as if he hadn’t realized how close she was. He was skittish, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. It depended what was making him nervy. The danger? Or her?
She got out of his way, not wanting to risk brushing up against him, not after last night, and he headed to the computer. “Help yourself,” he said. “I need to check a few things.”
“Are you sure that’s safe? Someone can hack into your IP address and find where we are if they’re good enough.”
“No, they can’t. I know my way around computers.” It was a simple statement, one she believed, so she busied herself with the food he’d brought. Enough for both of them. Did he expect her to serve him like a good Japanese hausfrau, or whatever you’d call it in Japan? If so, he was going to wait a long time.
He was right, though. The hot miso soup was like a mother’s calming touch, not that Lianne had been much for nurturing, but the warmth spread through Jilly’s body like a shot of whiskey.