“I…” She stopped again. “After Miyasato died, after Takashi took Yamato and forced me to work for him, it felt like I didn’t have anyone. I was on my own. I was scared. And Katsuro is Takashi’s son. And so I let him…” She looked down. “I let him think that perhaps I had feelings for him.” She looked up at him, anxiety on her face. “I don’t. It’s not like…”

“Not like us?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, her eyes sparking.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m not saying anything. I’m not judging you.”

“I’m glad,” she said sarcastically. “You’re not qualified to do that, not until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes.”

There was a steeliness in her expression that had not been there before. Milton could say whatever he liked, but he could see that she would need to be persuaded that her admission about Katsuro and her made no difference to him. That would have to wait, though; he needed to understand what they were facing so that he could plan a way to keep her—and himself—safe.

“Tell me about him.”

She waited until her temper had died down. “He’s crazy… and dangerous. He doesn’t think the rules apply to him.” She gave a shudder. “There was one time—the second or third time I made the run to Bali—when one of the premans we were selling to made a move on me. It was nothing—he put his hand on my leg—but he did it right in front of Katsuro just after he’d introduced me as his girlfriend. I was watching Katsuro’s face when he did it. He laughed it off, but there was something in his eyes…” She shuddered again. “The next time I came back, that guy wasn’t there. I remembered his name, so I Googled him. He’d been murdered the day after he came on to me. The newspaper said he’d been stabbed more than fifty times and left at the side of the road. I told Katsuro. He told me he did it. Straight up, made no effort to pretend it was anyone else. He said I was his—‘You belong to me’; those were his words—and that he’d do the same thing to anyone who didn’t respect that. He’s a psychopath.”

Milton could see that recalling these memories had frightened her, and there was no need to ask for more tonight.

“All right,” he said. “Get back to sleep.”

“You too?”