Chapter 9.
If I
leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me
For I must be traveling on now
There's too many places I've got to see
If I stay here with you girl
Things just couldn't be the same
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change
Oh, and the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can't change
Bye-bye babe, it's been sweet, love
'Though this feeling I can't change
But please don't take this so badly
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame
But if I stay here with you girl
Things just couldn't be the same
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change
Oh, and the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
Lord knows I can't change
Lord help me I can't change
Oh no, I can't change
Tokyo, Japan, 1970s
Logan decided that this was one of the worst jobs she'd ever had. Playing errand-girl to leering Japanese gangsters was not exactly her idea of a good time. But it paid the bills.
She was leaving a warehouse after her latest drop when she saw a tall man in a suit approaching her. Hey, baby, come here, he said in Japanese
Logan raised an eyebrow. "No." She responded in English.
The man was obviously not used to being told no. "You're supposed to come when I call you," he replied, using English this time. "Don't you know who I am."
"Don't know, don't care, bub."
The man looked at her in mild shock. "Do you work for the Yashida Clan?"
"Yeah, I'm a courier."
"Oh. Never mind then."
Logan cocked her head. "What did you think I was—a hooker?"
"Yes."
Well, at least he was honest. Logan had to give him that much. "Well, I'm not."
"Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"I just told you I'm not a whore."
"I didn't ask if you wanted to ride me," the man said with a smirk. "I just thought you might not want to walk around here alone. It's going to get dark soon."
"I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can, but I'd feel much better if I didn't walk off and leave a woman by herself in a less-than-safe alleyway."
Logan sighed. She really didn't feel like walking all the way back to her rat-hole of an apartment. If the guy got too friendly, she'd just pop her claws and cut something off. "Sure, why not."
The man stuck out his hand to shake hers, greeting her in the Western style. Logan noticed the tattoos on his arm and deduced he was a gangster. "Makoto," he said, introducing himself.
"Logan."
"Are you American?"
"Canadian."
"Close enough."
Logan grunted. "Hardly."
Makoto smiled at her, leading her to a black Cadillac. He opened the door for her, then got in behind her. "Where do you live?" he asked Logan.
She told him, and he looked at her in surprise. "How does a small woman like you survive in such a place?"
"I'm stronger than I look."
"Are you paid much for your courier position?"
"What's it to you?"
Makoto liked her feistiness. "I can see that you are given a higher position in the Clan. Better living arrangements."
Logan wasn't sure what she thought of that. "I'll think about it. Right now I just want to go home."
"Of course." He gave the directions to her apartment to the driver.
Logan leaned back in the seat and watched the silhouettes of buildings rush by through tinted glass.
Two days later, Logan's daily workout was interrupted by a sharp knock at her door. "Flamin' hell," she muttered. "I paid my damn rent."
She flung the door open, surprised to see Makoto. He bowed. "Good afternoon."
"Uh, good afternoon. Why are you here?"
Makoto reached out and put a white orchid behind her ear. "I wished to see your beautiful face again."
Logan wanted to kick herself when she realized she was actually blushing. "Well, here it is, handsome." Makoto smiled.
"I also wished to extend an invitation to dine with me. On Saturday night." Logan did a double take. Being asked on actual dates wasn't something she was used to.
"Sure—I mean, yes. Yes, I'd like that." Makoto inclined his head.
"Very good. A car will pick you up at seven." He bowed once more and retreated down her hall. Logan basked pleasantly for a moment, then panicked when she realized she had nothing to wear.
Logan fidgeted with the collar of her cheongsam as the driver of the ubiquitous black Cadillac ferried her deep into the Shinjuku District in the heart of downtown Tokyo. Past posh department stores and five star restaurants Logan could see the Imperial Palace erected during the Tokugawa regime. She checked her hair in the rearview mirror, done up with chopsticks and Makoto's white orchid, preserved in her refrigerator.
The car came to a stop on a side street, in front of an intimate restaurant done in traditional Japanese style with shoji screens and straw mats on the floors. Logan stopped nervously in the entryway. What if he wasn't there? What if she'd been stood up? What if she was dressed completely wrong?
"You look lovely." Logan turned with great relief to see Makoto.
"Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself."
Makoto stood a little taller, as if he was preening. He did look handsome, in his black suit with a red tie. Logan noticed it complimented her own dress and smiled.
They walked into the restaurant, and everyone immediately fell into place, going out of their way to cater to Makoto's ever whim. Logan reacted with mild surprise, wondering just how high up in the clan this man was. He definitely was ranked higher than petty street thug…
"What was your life like before you came here?" Makoto asked after they had eaten and a waiter had brought sake.
"It wasn't exactly sunshine and puppy dogs," said Logan. Makoto smiled.
"Your eyes say that you have led a hard life."
"They're right."
"But they are very pure also—they look like the sea off Osaka." He took a sip of his sake. "I have a summer home there. It's my favorite place in the world."
"It must be nice to have a place to escape to," said Logan wistfully. Makoto nodded.
"More than you know." Logan noticed that while he had been perfectly attentive throughout the meal, his eyes never stopped scanning the restaurant.
"Are you nervous about something?" Makoto gave her a startled look.
"Am I being that obvious?"
"Only to someone with military training." She didn't bother to qualify her statement. "I wouldn't worry—those bodyguards at the tables around us seem pretty tough." Makoto's mouth twitched.
"You are a woman of many talents, Logan."
"You have no idea, handsome."
Makoto leaned in closer. "Would you like to show me these talents?"
Logan winked. "Your place or mine?"
"Uh, mine. Yours frightens me."
Logan laughed, and Makoto found the sound refreshing. It was a genuine laugh, not one meant just to charm him.
Makoto snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared. Check.
No check necessary. The waiter said with a low bow.
Makoto nodded. He got up, then went to help Logan out of her chair. She walked from the restaurant on his arm.
Logan would be lying if she said she wasn't impressed by Makoto's penthouse. It was lavishly appointed in mostly black, with a huge, raised bed being the focal point. Makoto removed his jacket and shoes, and Logan also left hers on the mat next to the door. He noticed her staring.
"Do you like it?"
"Looks like a prince lives here." Makoto smiled slightly.
"The bed belonged to a member of the Tokugawa family—they say it was used mostly for his concubines." His smile changed to a wicked grin. Logan returned it.
"Looks comfy." Makoto ushered her over.
"Please, lie down." Logan raised an eyebrow.
"You're movin' a little fast even for me, Makoto." He laughed.
"I didn't mean it like that. You must lie down to experience this bed." He loosened his tie and flopped backwards, his slim body sinking down into the black satiny coverlet. "Come on Logan—don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid of you, handsome," said Logan as she landed next to him. Makoto hadn't been lying—the bed was the most comfortable thing she'd ever lain on. He looked over at her, black eyes hooded.
"Well?"
"It's great," said Logan with a soft moan of comfort. "Can I never move again?" Makoto reached over and traced a hand gently down her cheek, over the swell of her breasts and down her taut stomach.
"That would be fine with me, Logan." He bent his head to hers and kissed her, gently but full of passion. Logan returned his kiss eagerly, and didn't resist when he began to undo the clasps on her cheongsam. She began to undo the buttons on his shirt in kind, for some reason wanting to keep the slow, steady pace he was setting rather than race ahead. Makoto drew a breath when he saw her pale skin illuminated in the low light of the bedroom.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Logan smiled up at him. Makoto certainly wasn't ugly—he had a muscular torso with brilliant tattoos cascading up his right arm and over his chest. His shaggy black hair fell in his eyes as he bent to kiss her again, more insistent this time. Logan responded to him, letting him take the lead. "I want you," Makoto breathed against her neck. Logan shivered as he slid his body over hers, echoing the sentiment.
"Take me."
Logan propped up on her elbow, tracing her fingers down the tattoos that covered his arm and chest. "You must be pretty high-ranking to have all these."
Makoto shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I am."
"What do you do?"
"Uh…a lot of things."
"Are you an assassin?"
"This is not the type of thing I should discuss with a woman…"
"What, are you afraid it will upset me?" Logan asked with a smirk. "I'm not exactly frail and delicate, you know."
Makoto smirked. "I noticed." He sighed. "I am the son of the leader of the Clan Yashida."
Logan's eyebrows shot up. "You're Shingen Yashida's kid?!" Makoto nodded.
"Hai." Logan flopped backwards and groaned. "What's wrong?" said Makoto anxiously.
"I can't believe this," Logan muttered. "It just figures…"
"Logan, have I upset you?" Logan sighed.
"Makoto, I…I just wasn't prepared to hear that."
"I cannot help who I am."
"I know," said Logan. "It's just…I have this bad habit of sleeping with the wrong kind of men—the kind that never give anything back." Makoto looked down at her.
"Logan, my father does not define who I am. I made love with you because I think you are charming and beautiful—no other reason." Logan tried to smile.
"I'm sorry to imply that you weren't being honorable." He kissed her.
"No harm done, my dear. Now please, rest." He turned off the lights and wrapped his arms around Logan, his breathing soon evening out into sleep. Logan lay awake for a long time, watching the skyline of Tokyo from Makoto's massive window. This wasn't how it had happened before—this felt good, to be here with someone who wanted her. She didn't want to leave. Makoto stirred slightly in his sleep and Logan relaxed. She didn't have to.
Logan fell asleep.
"Makoto, will you please just tell me what's going on?"
"What, and spoil the surprise my dear? Not likely." Logan smiled as Makoto closed his hands over her eyes and guided her into the elevator of his building.
"Will I like it?"
"I almost guarantee you will." He kissed the top of her head as he stood behind her.
"Makoto?"
"Yes, Logan?" Logan sighed.
"This is the longest I've ever been with anyone." She cursed herself silently. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. And certainly not in an elevator when Makoto was taking her to his penthouse for a romantic evening.
"Really?" Logan knew what would come next—angry accusations and resentment.
"Well…yeah."
"Then I am honored." Makoto didn't give Logan a chance to react—the elevator stopped and he propelled her down the hall to his door, although Logan could have navigated perfectly well by scent. "Alright—are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, handsome." Makoto pushed his door wide and took his hands from her eyes. The first thing Logan saw was an armchair—her armchair. From her apartment. There were more things of hers scattered throughout the mostly open space. In fact, it looked as if everything she owned was now in Makoto's penthouse. She turned to him.
"What is this?" He took her hand and kissed it.
"Welcome home." Logan frowned.
"I have a home."
"You mean that hole in the wall? My dear, you can't be serious." Logan pulled her hand away.
"For your information, I liked that hole in the wall. You had no right to do this, Makoto." He looked confused.
"But Logan…I thought…"
"Just because we've been dating for a while doesn't make me your property." Makoto drew himself up, his eyes angry.
"Fine. If you still don't trust me to treat you with respect, then that is not my problem." He turned away from her. "I love you, Logan, but you are a difficult woman."
"Screw you." Makoto gave a mirthless laugh.
"Oh yes, because that is a safe way to assure you never actually have to face your feelings for anyone." He paced towards her, his finger extended. "You can only run so far and so fast, Logan. Sooner or later you are going to find yourself a lonely, bitter old woman with no one who cares for you."
Logan knew if it had been anyone other than Makoto she would have cut her losses and taken off, but instead she felt almost wounded. His words were true—even if she didn't want to admit he was right. Makoto crossed his arms and looked down at her. "I am sorry to have offended you. I'll have a man bring your things back and restore you to your old apartment."
"I'm sorry," said Logan almost inaudibly.
"What's that?"
"Sorry," said Logan louder. "I…well…you scared me. I'm not used to letting myself get close to anyone." She reached out gently and took his hand. "I do trust you, Makoto. I know you're an honorable man."
Makoto reached up and touched her face, drawing her slowly into one of his hot, mind-bending kisses. "Do you really want to leave?" he whispered. Logan smiled and kissed him again.
"No. I'll stay."
Logan poked at her lunch with a chopstick. "What was your childhood like?"
Makoto looked up, his eyes betraying surprise at Logan's question. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm curious, I guess."
"My mother died when I was young. I have only my father."
"Oh. Any siblings?"
"Half brother. He's a little crazy. One of those mutants." Logan froze for a moment until Makoto added, "Not that I have a problem with that."
Logan let out the breath she'd been holding.
"It's funny that you would be curious about my family, since they relate to what I wished to discuss with you at lunch this afternoon."
"What's that?"
"I would like you to accompany me to my family's compound in Osaka to meet my father."
Logan started. "You want to bring me home to your father?"
"Yes."
"I…I didn't know I meant that much to you."
Makoto reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I love you, Logan—more than I ever have any woman in my life."
"I love you, too. I…"
Logan stopped when Makoto got up. He reached behind him, and Logan knew he was reaching for his guns. "Makoto, what's going on?"
"Get down, woman."
Suddenly, Logan felt something hot shoot through her back. She jerked spastically, the bullets pounding thought her. She heard Makoto scream and return fire as she slumped to the ground.
When she came to, Makoto was kneeling on the ground, holding her in his arms. He was looking at her with anguish, her blood covering his designer suit. Logan gave him a tiny smile. "Why so sad, handsome?"
Makoto jumped, dropping her to the ground. Logan hit the floor with a thump. "Uh, ow."
You're alive! Makoto exclaimed in his native language.
"Yeah," Logan muttered, sitting up. "Takes more than a few dozen rounds of semi-automatic fire to get me down." She looked around the restaurant, seeing the bodies of the men who had shot her laying on the ground. "Aw, honey, you avenged my death."
"How…how is this possible?"
"I'm a mutant. I heal real fast."
Makoto reached down, offering Logan a hand to help her to her feet. I thought I'd lost you, he said softly.
I'm right here.
Makoto kissed her passionately. Don't scare me like that again.
I'd rather not get shot again myself.
"Let's go home," said Makoto, holding her close. Logan nuzzled against his neck.
"Yeah, let's go."