Supposed to be Chapter 17 but I forgot to upload it so. I'll just make it as a bonus chapter so there you go I'm sorry.

Hotaru carried a Brazilian Fireworks to her kitchen sink and wondered when and where this weird, irritating conversation with Kokoro Yome would end. She turned on the faucet, aware of the senior FBI special agent watching her from the table. The door man, none too happy, had called ten minutes ago to announce her unexpected "guest." Koko had requested a bit of her time to ask her few questions, and when she'd say okay – what other choice was there? – He'd parked himself at her table and told her to continue with what she was doing.

Watering plants.

Since Koko was from Tokyo, he had to know that even a small apartment on the upper west side was still an expensive undertaking, well beyond what she could afford. It was great by suburban standards. The building had a fantastic location, it has an elevator and a doorman – what was not to like?

And, for her, it was damn near free thanks to a generous friend who was in L.A. for some theater project and offer her the apartment for a very low price.

She'd explained the friend in L.A. before Koko even asked, which she regretted. It made her sound defensive, as if he had reason to think she was on the take or something.

He fiddled with an unlit cigarette. "All these inventions are your?"

"All mine."

"You like Tokyo?"

"I like the work I'm doing here."

"You were here first before Agent Nogi."

She wanted to ask Koko what the hell her relationship with Ruka had to do with whom freaking shot him in Central Park, but decided that wasn't the way to go. Stay cool. Answer the agent's question. She squirted more water down into the Brazilian Fireworks' soil. "I've been in Tokyo for eighteen months. Ruka got here in February. It was hard to pretend I'm not as driven as I am when we were working out of the same district. We called it quits in March."

"Not that I asked," Koko said.

She glanced around at him. "You were going to."

"How did you two meet?"

"Ruka came up here from Kanagawa to collect a prisoner."

"It'd be tough, I think, being married to someone doing the same job as me. My wife's a fashion magazine editor."

Hotaru sighed. There'd never been talk of marriage with her and Ruka. "Good for her."

"Hardest job in the world. You just hurt for some of them. Shit lives, shit choices." Koko rolled his cigarette between his fingers. "Nogi. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

"Maybe. But he grew up with the Sakuras not with the Nogi, Sakuras aren't rich. They're not poor, either, but the father doesn't come from money. He was assistant secretary of Japan once, but, hell, I don't think he made much more than we do."

That drew a half smile from Koko. "Have you ever made it to the family home in Kyoto? Northern Woods, sounds like a nice place, doesn't it?"

"No." She gave the Brazilian Fireworks a final, hard spray. "Never made it."

"Sore subject?"

Ruka had invited her down for weekend in March, a month before his vacation in Paris. Said they could get a jump on spring. She'd worked instead. She could have gotten off 0 they both knew it.

End of romance.

"Not at all," she told Koko. "Just didn't work out."

"Natsume Hyuuga's down there with the sister. You get a feel for her when she was up here?"

"Nice. Smart. Pretty. Impulsive. Agent Yome –"

"She got an anonymous letter in the mail."

Hotaru grabbed another plant, an orchid she was surprised it wasn't dead yet. As much as she loved plants, they had to be hardy to survive her lifestyle.

Koko carefully returned his cigarette to his pack, but she noticed it was bent, bits of tobacco spilling out onto the table. She'd let him smoke. She didn't care. But it broke the house rules.

She set the orchids in the sink. She forgot what kind it was, but it wasn't that pretty when it blooming and was truly ugly when it wasn't. She gave an audible sigh. "Okay, is this where I'm supposed to ask 'what anonymous letter'?" But she immediately regretted her irritable remark. "Sorry. I guess I'm as nerved up about this whole business as anyone."

"Feel like you're next?"

"No, goddammit. What a thing to say."

He shrugged, then told her about the letter. Mikan's call. Natsume's flight to Kyoto. How she said she'd torn the phone apart the phones looking for taps. Hotaru smiled at that one – she had a feeling that, never mind the delicate gold rings and brunette good looks, Mikan Sakura would do just anything.

"You think this letter's for real?" Hotaru asked.

"Lab guys are checking it out. It was postmarked Tokyo."

"What, you think one of us sent it? Ruka, Natsume, me? The chief agent?"

Koko didn't answer.

Hotaru groaned. Her and her mouth. "Any more questions?"

"Nah." He got heavily to his feet. "Thanks for your time, Agent."

After he left, she banged her head on the door a couple of times just to see if she could knock some sense into herself. Jesus. How not to handle an FBI interrogation.

That was what it was, too. Koko had asked her if he could talk to her. She'd said yes.

It wasn't a courtesy visit. He was an FBI agent in charge of high-profile investigation. The man was just doing his job.

And he'd been very deliberate about it. No slipups. He'd told her only what he'd wanted her to know what he wanted to see in her reaction.

He'd played her beautifully.

But who cared? She had nothing to hide. He had to work all the angles of the investigation at once. Crazy ones, even. Like maybe Ruka or Natsume had screwed up and done something that'd gotten them shot. Like maybe she had a vendetta against Ruka and had hired someone to take him out.

Except he hadn't died, and neither had Natsume. Maybe dead wasn't the point. Maybe dead or wounded was the point.

Why?

The letter Mikan received… what was that all about?

"Not your problem."

Hotaru flipped all the locks on the door and picked up an ivy plant with crispy leaves. She must have missed that one on her last go-round with the spray faucet. But it still showed signs of life. Her brother would tell her she was losing her touch – she'd always had a green thumb.

She noticed a little goldfish belly-up in one of the tanks.

Damn.

She set the ivy on the sink and found a slotted spoon, scooped out the dead fish and flushed it down the toilet, then flipped the lid and sat down.

"Oh, shit."

But she couldn't stop the tears. For the first time since she'd heard the news about the shooting, she sat and cried. She'd loved Ruka. Totally. And it hadn't worked out, just like all her other relationships. Then he'd almost died. He was still in rotten shape. Miserable, in pain. He had to be scared out of his mind for his sister.

Would he turn to her for help?

Hell, no.

She looked out the windows at the window and listened to the gurgle of her aquariums. This was it. She was going to spend the rest of her life with a bunch of plants and fish for company.

And her work. God knows she'd have her work.