Chapter 30
Thirty
G etting tortured sucks. The one good thing to come out of the whole thing is that Kenzo is finally letting his walls down. We’ve grown close in a way I never thought possible. Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. That maybe he will tire of me or decide that I’m not worth the trouble any longer.
My recovery hasn’t been easy. Especially with a baby on board. I still can’t believe that there is a life growing inside of me. A pit of fear coils in my belly at the thought that I might turn out to be like my mother. Emotionless and uncaring. What if I can’t bond with my child?
“I love you so much, firecracker,” my husband whispers in my ear as he runs the warm sponge between my breasts and down my stomach. I’m laying in the tub, one hand spread over my lower abdomen as he gives me another bath. My feet are still pretty shredded from running through the swamp barefoot and standing for lengthy periods of time gets painful. The doctor says it will take time to heal, but it has already been a week and I only feel slightly better than I did when I woke.
Biting my lower lip, I take a cleansing breath. Kenzo tilts his head slightly as he stares at me, his hand stopping its movement. He’s trying to anticipate what I might need, but he can’t, because I don’t even know what I need.
My mother is dead, and my father is ruined. He came to the house to apologize to me a few days ago, but I couldn’t find it in myself to forgive him for how he treated me growing up. Using me as a commodity, forcing me to become what he thought was the ideal wife for Kenzo.
Turns out he couldn’t have been more wrong about what my dear husband wanted in a wife.
“Why do you love me?” I ask him suddenly, my gaze turning to his. His eyes widen slightly at the question before they soften, his lips quirking up on one side.
He pulls the latch on the tub, letting the water drain out as he helps me stand.
“Because of how fierce you are,” he whispers as he brushes the warm towel over my breasts. “Your father always made you sound like a sparkler,” he chuckles as he drags the towel down my abdomen, easing it between my legs. Desire pools in my belly at the feel of the fabric against my sensitive parts. “But you are a beautiful firecracker.” Once he’s finished drying me, he chucks the towel to the side before reaching forward and picking me up in his arms. My legs automatically wind around his waist and I can feel his hardness beneath me.
Softly, he places me in our bed so that I am sitting up against the plush cushions he meticulously arranged against the headboard.
“When did you know?” I swallow hard. “When did you know you loved me?” Kenzo smirks as he pulls the covers over me. Since I’ve woken, he’s kept to the no clothing in bed policy except when the doctor visits. It is like he is trying to torture me with what neither of can have. Until the doctor can get a clear picture of the baby, to make sure it is growing inside of me properly, sex is off the table.
Too strenuous, both the doctor and my husband say.
I don’t care though. A woman has needs and every night that passes with us naked and pressed together in this bed is giving me the female version of blue balls.
Blue folds?
Gross. No.
Strangled clit?
Sounds like a bad drink.
Maybe I’ll write a country song about it instead.
The My Vagina Blues . It will be a chart topper, I’m sure.
“The moment I held you in my arms after drugging you,” he admits with a shrug. “You were always supposed to be nothing more than a trophy wife at my side. Someone I could take out when I needed to, but then you ran, and something changed. I became obsessed with chasing you. Catching you. That obsession turned to love the moment those double doors opened. It deepened when I saw the small steps you took to ensure that my heritage was preserved in our wedding. And it cemented the moment I saw you with a gun to your head. I knew that if I lost you, that was it for me. I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, even if you hated me for the rest of my life for forcing our marriage against your will.”
Tears pushed at the back of my eyes, causing them to burn.
I’ve been so worried that he would never love me the way I love him. That I was going to be the only one to fall. I’ve fallen so hard for my husband that I don’t think I could fall any harder. Everything about him makes me feel loved and cherished. For once, I hope for the future instead of dreading it.
“How many kids do you want?” he asks me as he settles in beside me, on top of the comforter.
“Two,” I admit. “Which seems kind of fitting now that I know that twins run in my family.” I wince at the memory of knowing that my mother murdered the other half of me. A half I never knew existed. The empty hole that has always followed me around makes more sense, but it doesn’t feel so empty anymore. Not with Kenzo by my side.
“Where do you want to go for a honeymoon?” Another question from left field.
“Oh, uh…” I haven’t thought about a honeymoon. He never mentioned anything in the past about having one, so it never crossed my mind to be thinking of it. “I don’t care much.” I shrug. “I’ve never left the states.”
Kenzo nods his head thoughtfully. “I’d like to take you with me to Japan. Show you where my family comes from. The cherry blossoms are beautiful in the spring.”
My heart warms with happiness in my chest. “I’d like that.”
He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Good.” He smiles as he leans over on his side to draw something from the nightstand. “I have something for you. My men found it while rummaging through my mother’s apartment.” He hands me a small envelope with my name on it.
“What is it?” I ask turning it over to see that the wax seal hasn’t been broken.
“This is the letter my father wrote for you to see on our wedding day,” Kenzo says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been looking for it since I learned about it in his will after he died, but I never found it. Now I know why.”
His voice is full of resignation, and I don’t know how to comfort him. How do you comfort someone who’s mother betrayed them in the worst way possible? He still hasn’t gone to see her. I know she is still alive; he would have told me if he’d had her killed. He won’t be the one to pull the trigger, he can’t. She is still the woman who gave birth to him and raised him to be the man he is today. Even if it was only for her own gain.
“I’ll let you read it alone,” he tells me before once again pressing a kiss to my forehead. A few moments later, the door clicks shut, and I am left with just me and the envelope in my hands. My fingers tremble as I break the seal and slide out the paper within. It’s thick, like cardstock, with a handwritten note etched in a beautiful black ink that travels across the page with graceful swirls and dips.
The handwriting reminds me of Japanese Calligraphy.
Evaline,
My dear sweet girl. I wish that the sins of the parents didn’t have to fall on your shoulders, but alas, it does. It was the only way that I could save your life from the vengeful wrath of the Yakuza and my wife. They wanted a child for a child. To force your mother to give birth to you so that we might strike you down as she struck down our son.
But I cannot bear that weight on my soul.
Just like my son, you are innocent.
Over the years I have watched you grow into a blossoming flower despite how your parents tried so hard to keep you contained, you bloomed under their harsh conditions, like a lonely wildflower on the side of the road. I know this will be hard for you. To give up everything you have dreamed, but it doesn’t have to be that way.
This marriage isn’t a death sentence, sweet child, it is a chance to grow.
I am stubborn and so I know my son will be the same.
If you are reading this, then it means I did not survive long enough in our dark world to tell you all of this in person, and for that, I am sorry. All of these years visiting and watching you grow wasn’t so that I could keep an eye on your parents and make sure they were fulfilling their end. It was because I wanted to be sure you were taken care of. To show you that you had nothing to be afraid of.
Even after my death, I know my son will honor my wishes to marry you. He’s a hard one to crack but once you get past that rough exterior, there is a wealth of love waiting inside for you.
So I ask you this one favor, sweet Evaline.
Don’t give up on him. No matter how hard he tries to push you away, push back. Even now, at such a young age, he bears the weight of his future on his shoulders. He’s only seventeen. Barely on the cusp of being a man, but he’s seen more than most men twice his age.
Something is coming for me, I know this. I don’t have much time left, which is why I wanted to write you this letter.
I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Even now, your smile seems to crack something inside of him. When I’m gone, he’ll need someone to be at his side. To love him even when he has to become a monster.
Be there for him.
Love him.
I know it is a lot to ask, but if anyone can keep him from delving too deep into the dark, it is you.
Your parents will never have told you, but your name comes from the French, meaning “wished for”. I named you that because even in my darkest moment after my son died, I wished for a way to solve what happened without violence or murder.
I’ve grown tired of the Yakuza ways, and you are one step in the right direction. Remember that you are always loved, sweet Evaline. You are more than just a debt. You are the daughter I’ve always wanted.
Take care of my son and one day I will see you again.
In another life.
Another time.
Hikaru.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I read the letter again and again, holding on to each word as if it is a lifeline. I’m still crying when Kenzo comes back in the room several minutes later. He doesn’t say anything, he just gathers me in his arms and holds me tight to his chest. I hand him the letter, letting him read what his father wrote.
I’ve never seen my husband close to tears but now his eyes are glazed, and I can see him holding back as he reads. When he’s done, he sets the letter beside him and holds me closer.
“He wrote me a letter, too,” he whispers, voice thick. “The only reason I had it was because he’d left it in my desk drawer with a note that said not to open it until after we were married. It’s one of the reasons why I pursued you.”
“What did it say?”
“That I shouldn’t close myself off after his death,” he admits. “That there is more to life than just the Yakuza.” I don’t say anything, I simply nod. I agree with his father. There is more to life than the Yakuza, but I also know that this life is ingrained so deeply in my husband that he will never be able to leave. Not just physically, but mentally. He’s a soldier. A king. A Sovereign Brother.
“It is who you are,” I remind him. “He knew that.”
“I think it is why my mother killed him,” he says. Turning my head slightly for a better angle, I look up at him. When I don’t say anything, he continues. “My father was in love with another woman when he was in Japan.”
He’d told me something about this, but he hadn’t elaborated.
“Her name was Toshiko Sato,” he continues. “She wasn’t anyone special or important. Just a woman who worked in a flower shop. They fell in love and were planning to be married.”
“Until your mother murdered her.” No need to guess what happened there.
Kenzo nods. “My father was heartbroken,” he says. “He poured himself into his work, but without a wife, he wouldn’t inherit the Nakamura Yakuza from his father. It was an old tradition. So he married my mother. Apparently, she’d been engaged to my father since childhood, but he’d called it off when he met Toshiko.”
“For power.”
“Yes, for the power,” he sighs. “I’m still searching for information on the Medusa, but there isn’t much to go on. There is hardly any evidence of them in history other than World War Two. Everything after that is just…gone.”
Snuggling closer, I place my hand on his heart, feeling the steady thrumming beat beneath my palm. “You need to talk with your mother.”
Kenzo growls. “I will.”
“Soon,” I tell him. “Right now, she is the only link you have to the Medusa. If they are even involved. It could be just her.” I highly doubt that, but it makes me feel cozy inside for the moment.
Sighing, he rubs a hand down his face. He hasn’t shaven since my kidnapping and the scruff is looking sexy on him. “I promise,” he murmurs into my hair. “I will see her soon.”
“Remember,” I whisper into his chest as my eyes begin to flutter closed. I’m always exhausted recently. “We are in this together. You aren’t alone.”
“I know, firecracker.”
I smile at the nickname I’ve come to love. “I love you, husband,” I murmur sleepily into his chest.
Kenzo chuckles. “I love you too, wife.”