Warrior Spirit

“As I recall, you owe me your life. That’s not exactly the kind of grateful attitude I’d expect from someone like yourself.”

“This conversation is boring me. I’m in Japan. You want to meet up, come and find me. Otherwise don’t bother. I’m busy.”

Annja hung up the phone and then unplugged it from the jack in the wall. That would at least guarantee that she’d be able to sleep through the night without Garin ruining her rest.

Unless he called her cell phone, too.

Annja groaned and clambered out of bed, padded to the small stand by the door and shut off her cell phone. Now she was cut off. Completely.

Unless Garin happened to knock on her door.

Annja stopped. Was it possible that Garin was the one who’d been in her room earlier? Had he sneaked in when she was bathing? But she knew Garin was enough of a jerk that he would pick the perfect time to do whatever he wanted to do and still grab an eyeful of Annja soaking naked in the tub.

“Bastard.”

She climbed back into bed and pulled up the covers. In moments, she was fast asleep. And not once did she dream about Garin.

T HE FIRST THING SHE SAW in the morning was the folded slip of paper someone had slid under her door during the night. How had she not heard that?

She sighed and got out of bed. Perhaps her run-in with Nezuma yesterday had dampened her senses as much as it had her body.

Unfolding the slip of paper, she read:

“Come down for breakfast in the lobby. G.”

“So much for being halfway across the world from him,” Annja said. “Figures.”

Twenty minutes later she’d showered and applied the minimal makeup she normally wore. Dressed in jeans and a white blouse, she chose a pair of black flats rather than heels. Somehow, time spent with Garin always contained the potential for gunfire, car chases, explosions, bodies and lots of running.

Annja rode the elevator down to the lobby and when the doors parted, she could look right across into the restaurant. Garin was immediately noticeable. And not just because he stood a foot above anyone else in the area. Garin was damned good-looking. As she entered the eatery, he looked up and smiled.

He stood as she approached and kissed her on the cheek. “How is my favorite historical descendant?”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Annja sat and ordered a cup of black coffee. “I would have thought you had other names for me.”

Garin shrugged. “There are some, but I wouldn’t use them in mixed company. You know, I’m nothing but a complete gentleman.”

“How nice.” Annja sat back and crossed her arms. “You look good for dodging Roux’s repeated attempts on your life.”

Garin waved his hands. “That gets rather mundane after all the time I’ve been alive. We’ve been after each other for so long it almost gets routine. Then we have our cease-fires and our détentes, and then something happens and we go at it again. Blah, blah, blah. Silliness.”

“Yeah, those bullets are really overrated.”

Garin leaned forward. “And not at all the reason I wanted to see you, my dear.”

The waitress brought coffee and Annja ordered two eggs, toast, orange juice and melon slices. Garin ordered an aged Scotch whisky.

Annja grinned. “That’s some breakfast you’re getting.”

He shrugged. “I’m on another time zone. And where I’m at, it’s perfectly acceptable to have a drink to take the edge off.”

“You just got in, then,” Annja said.

“Something like that.” He spread his arms. “Besides, I’m in phenomenal shape. For five hundred years old? You wish you’d look this good when it happens to you.”

“I have no desire to live that long.”

Garin frowned. “I said the same thing. Funny how fate just flips you the bird any time she feels like it.”

“Such talk. Where were you before this?” Annja asked.

“I’m a man of many places and locales. I don’t distinguish between them if I can help it.”

Annja took a sip of her coffee. “I love the fact that my conversations with you usually entail a great deal of frustration on my part because you don’t ever give me anything concrete to go on. You answer questions with questions and never confirm or deny anything. You’re like a politician without an office.”

Garin bowed his head. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Annja laughed.

“The man you met last night.” Garin smiled at her. “What is his name—Kennichi?”

Here we go, Annja thought. No middle ground, just right into it. “What about him?”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No, I liked the idea that he was a complete stranger. It made the unsafe sex all the better.” She shook her head. “He told me his story.”

“And you believe him.”

Annja sighed. “I haven’t really known him long enough to say one way or the other, Garin. We met, had dinner, he beat the crap out of some gangsters and that was it.”

“Let’s not forget what he asked you to help him do.”

Annja narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

Garin laughed. “You’re not going to sit there and lie to me. Really now, after all we’ve been through, you’re not going to feign ignorance to that question, are you?”

“My ignorance, as you put it, is genuine,” Annja said, immediately regretting the poor choice of words.

Garin sniffed as if he’d caught wind of a skunk. “Your ability to lie convincingly needs much improvement, Annja. But if that’s how you want to play this, fine. I’ll do the talking and you can sit there and listen.”

“That would be a refreshing change,” she replied sarcastically. Annja leaned back and crossed her arms, waiting for Garin to begin.

His whisky arrived and he took it with a word of thanks in Japanese to the waitress who stared at him in awe. Garin waved her away as if she were a pesky fly, but Annja could already see that the waitress was enthralled. If the big man knew it, he showed no signs of being interested.

Garin sipped from the glass and seemed to savor it for just a moment before swallowing, and then looked right at Annja. “Ninja are very very dangerous people, my dear.”

“So I’ve heard.”