And most of all, never attack first. Yet how could she obtain the sword without attacking? Perhaps she should have just gone to John Travis and thrown herself on his mercy, asking pretty please to borrow the sword. But she suspected his reaction would have been the same as his son’s—scorn and disbelief. And always, Takeo’s stalwart little figure hovered above every karate precept. She’d had no choice but to give Kai the blade if it was the only way to free her son. With time for nothing but reflection, she stopped in front of the tiny window, looking at the patch of blue above her head. It reminded her of the porthole that had decorated their cabin on the yacht they’d used to sail the Aegean. How many years ago now? Six, at least. One of Kai’s allies had loaned it to them shortly after they became lovers. She usually avoided thinking of that time, for that was when she’d fallen deeply in love with the boy who seemed as wrongly outcast as she felt. She couldn’t reach the window, but she put her palm flat against the wall beneath it, tears coming to her eyes despite her best efforts.
