Cajun Justice(89)

“Seiza kudesei,” she replied. “Sit. I will get a towel.”

Cain moaned from pain as he sat on the floor and propped his back against the sofa.

Umiko returned from the kitchen with a towel and a bowl of warm water. She soaked the towel in the water and wrung it out. She gently applied it to Cain’s neck and face. She cared for him with tenderness as she cleaned away all the blood that had caked to his neck, face, and ear.

“You need to go to a doctor,” she insisted as she looked into his eyes.

“Grab the expeditionary bag. There’ll be emergency aid equipment inside.”

She grabbed the bag and pulled out various types of medical equipment. “Your shirt is full of—” Umiko paused, clearly distressed by what she saw.

“Blood,” Cain answered for her. “This shirt is ruined beyond repair.” He looked at his hands, which were still bloody.

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter. Hayabusa’s dead now.”

Umiko gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand.

“It was suicide. But it might as well have been murder.”

“We have to go to the police,” she said with conviction.

“No! No police.”

“They will know what to do.”

Her sense of morality and ability to see the best in people were two of the traits Cain found attractive about her. But he recognized the stakes. The danger of never seeing Bonnie again was increasing every second, and Japanese bureaucracy would tie him up for weeks—possibly even leading to his arrest for manslaughter. “I’m so sorry, Umiko.” Cain teared up. “You are now in danger.”

“Why am I in danger?” Her eyes widened. “Because you’re here?”

“I had to leave your scooter at the scene. Eventually the police—maybe even the yakuza if they have the police on their payroll—will be able to trace the license plate back to you. They’ll come here. They’ll do to you what they’ve done to Bonnie.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, though.” She began to panic. “I let my friend borrow my scooter.”

“I know you did nothing wrong. But you have to report your scooter stolen. And please promise me that you’ll go tomorrow to stay with your parents in Osaka—at least until this blows over.”

“I cannot leave my work tomorrow. Sato-san needs me.”

“Don’t worry about Sato-san. You are in danger. The yakuza can be here any minute. We must find a safe place and go there now.”

“The only hotel nearby that would be private and not ask for ID would be a capsule hotel.”

Cain shook his head. “No. I swore never to stay in one of those coffins again. There’s gotta be another option. This is Yokohama, for crying out loud.”

“Well,” Umiko said, “there is one place.” She told him there was an apartment owned by Mr. Sato’s automotive company that was used to host visiting VIPs. It had been prepared for the marketing director from Germany, but he was not arriving until the following night.

“Let’s go,” said Cain.





Chapter 69



The luxury cabin on board the expensive yacht swayed with the rhythmic waves of the ocean. In almost any other scenario, this would be a dream vacation—except this was no vacation. It was a nightmare, yet Bonnie was wide-awake. The pain was a constant reminder of that.

The room was dark. She was nude, and her wrists throbbed with pain. The nylon rope that bound her was tight—too tight, but the yakuza guard knew she was a fighter. She had fought like a wild animal when they took her from her apartment. The chunk missing from his right ear served as a reminder of that.

Dried blood circled her wrists from the raw motion of trying to free her hands from the rope that tied them to the headboard of the queen-size bed. She was able to lie down but found sleeping too uncomfortable in that position. Gravity pulled the blood from her hands and it stung like a thousand needles jabbing her skin.

She peered through the small porthole. The waxing crescent moon provided a soft white glow over the ocean. That’s how she kept track of the three days she’d been in captivity. How many more nights will I be tied to this bed? she worried. She reasoned that it was better than the alternative: death.

If only I can get Cain’s attention. I’ve done it before.

She thought back to a childhood memory. She had lost the coin toss with her brothers, and it had fallen on her to check the catfish traps in the middle of the lake. As she maneuvered her father’s small boat close to the bobbing buoy, she saw her teenage brothers on the dock waving at her to come back to the shore.

“Bonnie, it’s not worth it. Just come back,” Seth had yelled through cupped hands.

She’d looked skyward at the ominous clouds above. “I’d be done already if I had some help, but I don’t need any help!” Hand over hand, she’d pulled the thick nylon rope to the trap until she felt its weight. It was heavy and caused the boat to tip as she hovered over the edge, pulling with all her might.

A clap of thunder and a gust of wind caused Bonnie to lose her footing. She toppled headfirst into the lake, inhaling a mouthful of muddy water. Bonnie kicked her legs furiously while trying to surface, but the rope ensnared her right leg above the knee, anchoring her underwater with the hefty fish trap.