Alarmed by the absolute horror in Kaz’s eyes even if his face remained passive, Milo twisted around to see what inspired such a reaction. A few yards away stood a handsome Japanese man in a coal gray suit, complete with vest—buttoned up. A well-groomed goatee framed his lips. His skin was a few degrees darker than the usual Asian paleness Milo was used to, almost similar in coloring as Kaz. It gave the man such a striking appearance.
“You’re a hard man to track down, Kazuhiko,” he said in Nihongo.
Milo turned back around. “Kaz, do you know him?”
With an almost imperceptible shift in his seat, Kaz relaxed his shoulders and said, “Maybe because I don’t want to be found.”
“Hiding is futile. You should know this by now. When Father calls, you answer.”
Father?
Milo’s eyebrows rose as he c
