Chapter 8 - Tatiana
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
The beginnings of ice-cold fear made my feet feel heavy as I made my way down the darkened path.
This might be a game. It might not. I was already regretting the decision to come here, already doubting the sincerity of the message I received inviting me.
Luring me.
Out of nowhere, masked figures swarmed me.
Their harsh fingers dug into my arms as they shoved me further into the darkness.
Despite the masks, I knew exactly who they were, and they’d shown me nothing but cruelty before.
The threatening notes, the wilted flowers splashed with paint that looked too much like blood.
This could be a joke. But it might not be, as their hands continued to dig all the way to the bone, and they dragged me further and further from the light.
I sat straight up in bed, a scream tearing from my throat.
A nightmare, only another nightmare, brought to the forefront of my subconscious after such a long time by being tossed into Kon’s trunk.
Pale blue walls surrounded me, warm morning light spilled through the gap in the linen curtains. I was fine now. Perfectly fine.
Just bathed in cold sweat, the smooth, high thread count sheets cling to my bare skin.
Oh yeah, and locked in. That didn’t do anything to help calm me down.
Before I could fully get myself under control, Kon was bursting through the door to my room, waving his gun around as if there was real danger in there, and not just phantoms from my past.
An avenging angel, or a demon? I blinked as he snapped on the overhead light, gasping when his gaze fell on me, roaming from my rumpled ponytail to the tips of my toes. I could almost feel the path his eyes traveled, lightning fast, before locking on my face.
I had fallen asleep in my underwear, the robe in the bathroom much too thick to get comfortable in, and now I wrapped the damp sheets tight around me, my heart thudding double time, and not completely because of the aftermath of the nightmare, either.
Kon’s eyes were glued to me, wide with fear, but his entire huge body was coiled to fight.
I managed a tight laugh as he finally turned away and stormed into the bathroom to search, then slammed through the closet, finally dropping to look under the bed.
No monsters. No real ones, anyway. The jury was still out on Kon.
“I thought this place was supposed to be impermeable,” I said, forcing a sarcastic tone past the lingering dread. “Who do you think could have gotten in to harm me?”
He didn’t laugh, and his eyes felt like they were boring straight through me. “Why were you screaming?”
The heat of embarrassment replaced the searing heat from his stare. There was no way I wanted to admit I had a nightmare like a small, helpless child, but he wasn’t going anywhere until he got an answer.
“It was only a bad dream,” I said with a shrug, waiting for him to ridicule me.
He didn’t. “What was it about?”
Did his voice seem softer? How was that possible when his face grew harder than before? He lowered the gun still gripped in his hand to his side, his finger moving from the trigger as he waited patiently for an answer. As if once I told him he’d finally have something to shoot.
I shrugged. “Don’t remember now,” I lied. It was as vivid as it ever was, but somehow his big presence helped make the shreds of anxiety still clinging to me disperse. “It probably had something to do with being kidnapped.”
True enough, only it wasn’t him in the dream.
He scowled and stormed out as suddenly as he blasted in. He really didn’t give a shit at all. There was nothing to beat to death, so no reason to linger in the prisoner’s room. That shouldn’t have affected me at all, but there was something oddly comforting about not being alone.
Fighting the bereft feeling, I reached for the robe and wrapped myself in it, trying not to dwell on my miserable failure to help my father. This wasn’t over; it couldn’t be.
To my shock, Kon returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea and some toast, along with a little jar of strawberry jam.
“Wrong this time,” I said. “I prefer apricot.”
His lip quirked up. “I’ll make note of it.”
He turned to leave again, but I didn’t want to be alone with the nightmare still hanging on.
I didn’t want to hear the click of the lock or the thud of his footsteps receding down the hall.
I just plain didn’t want to be alone anymore.
At least for a little while, until the memory of hands dragging me inexorably into the darkness was completely gone.
“So, how’s Mikhail?” I blurted, thrashing around for anything to say to keep him there a bit longer.
“What?” he asked, stunned into turning to face me. “My son, Mik, you mean?”
Worst segue ever. There was no reason to bring him up, but my mind wasn’t exactly at full throttle after the last twenty-four hours. Hell, the last week hadn’t been a picnic.
“Yeah,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and reaching for the teapot, hoping he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands. “We talked about Sofiya and Lukyan and the twins last night, but you never mentioned Mikhail. Is he still running the brewery?”
Kon noticed my trembling hands and took the steaming pot from them and poured for me. “Among other things,” he said shortly. “He stays busy.”
I nodded my thanks and took a sip of tea, waiting for him to expound on his eldest son’s latest adventures.
He didn’t. “Uh, I used to have a very mild crush on him once upon a time,” I said, trying to keep things light, trying to get him to sit down and start a conversation so I didn’t have to wrestle with my own tortured thoughts.
Kon made a sour face, but pulled up one of the upholstered armchairs and plopped down, crossing his long legs at the ankles and fixing me with an appraising stare. “Did you?”
He didn’t sound curious, more annoyed.
I really didn’t, but I was stuck with it now, and pretended to be fascinated with the jam jar.
Anything to keep from staring at him. Now that I wasn’t so worked up with leftover panic, all I could seem to focus on was the gray t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and stretched across chiseled pecs.
He wore black sweatpants that molded to his thighs, and his feet were bare.
It was a huge shock since I normally only ever saw him in bespoke suits that radiated power.
He should have looked smaller, but he looked bigger, more powerful.
As dangerous as ever, and it shouldn’t have been possible.
That kind of power had nothing to do with clothes; it was all Kon.
Every last inch of him. My hand shook again for an entirely different reason, rattling the butter knife against the jam pot.
“Don’t eat it if you don’t like it,” he said. “I’ll put apricot on the list for the housekeeper when she comes later this week.”
“No, I like it. So, um…”
“If you’re that interested in what Mik’s been up to, he was supposed to visit me in Tokyo, but that’s been postponed indefinitely since I had other, more pressing business to attend to.
Namely, tracking down your father.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he reached for the knife to spread jam on my toast. Like I was six years old.
Still, there was nothing remotely fatherly about him, or the look in his eyes.
“You know, that’s funny,” I said, though it really wasn’t. Not at all. “That’s the same thing that’s been messing up my calendar, too.”
“Where is he?” he demanded, placing the butter knife down with a soft clink.
My spit dried up, but I glugged down some hot tea, never lowering my gaze. Maybe I should have been scared, but anger took over. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t know?”
“Tell me everything you do know, then,” he said, leaning closer.
I leaned back. Okay, maybe I was a little scared. But more pissed off. This man had known my father since they were kids. He’d known me my entire life. And he could still sit there and look me straight in the eye and believe I was lying to him. Believe that Papa had betrayed him.
“I don’t know anything,” I said, furious when my voice cracked.
He leaned back again, crossing his arms and staring at me in clear disbelief. “You never received an influx of cash before he disappeared?”
When he had the audacity to make air quotes with his fingers as he said the last word, I was close to boiling over. “Of course not.”
He snorted. “How did you know to come here to LA? How do you even know Riku Yoshida exists if your father’s really kept you out of the loop? Who is he to you and your father?”
“R-riku Yoshida?” I stammered. “Is he someone who might know where Papa is?”
“You were at his building, and you don’t know who he is?” he asked incredulously.
It wasn’t really a lie when I shook my head. His rapid-fire interrogation didn’t seem to have an end. Why did I think I wanted him to stay and have a conversation with me? How could I think he would be able to soothe away my fears?
He wasn’t an old family friend like my memories tricked me into believing. Not anymore. He thought I was keeping things from him, and he’d do whatever was necessary to get that information.
He may have rushed in to slay my dragons and keep me safe, but it was only for his own means.