Fire and Ice

  “I know how to turn it off,” she said, starting to get up, but he put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back, hard.

  “You’ll stay here or I’ll tie you up.”

  “Promises, promises,” she muttered. “And you can just stop throwing me around and hurting me. I’m fragile.”

  “Ha! You’re as fragile as a sumo wrestler. And trust me, I’m pulling my punches. I could hurt you a lot more.”

  “If that’s what turns you on,” she snapped, grabbing at the loose jacket he was wearing.

  He swore, foul and dirty, pulling out of the jacket and moving away. “Coward,” she said, mocking.

  He froze. The dusty, deserted pool house was silent, the windows so dirty she could barely see the huge house beyond it. He turned to look back at her for a long, thoughtful moment, then headed for the door.

  She was tempted to throw the jacket at his head, tempted to find something, anything, to hurl at him, but she simply sat there on the mattress, defeated.

  He didn’t open the door. He locked it. And then he turned back to look at her in the dusty stillness.

  “What do you want from me, Ji-chan?” He sounded older, tired, not the smart-ass, smirking punk she was used to. He sounded as wounded as she felt.

  Your head on a platter? Never to see your face again? For you to be eaten by hungry tarantulas? Nothing was bad enough.

  She looked up at him, opened her mouth to rip him a new one. But only one word came out. “You,” she said.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected. Was he going to walk away from her? Bring the force he’d threatened? He moved across the deserted pool house to the mattress, squatting down beside it, close enough to touch her. “Someone is trying to kill you, Ji-chan,” he said softly. “I haven’t had sex in three weeks, not since you left, and I’m not the kind of man who goes without sex easily. You need to let me go and try to save your life, because otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

  “Why haven’t you had sex in three weeks?”

  “Because you weren’t there. And unfortunately I don’t want anyone but you. Now, let me go and find a way to keep you safe.”

  She reached up her hand and touched his face. His skin was smooth, warm, and the new, shorter hair was in his eyes. She pushed it away. “Safety is overrated,” she said. And she leaned up and kissed him.

  For a moment he didn’t move, and his mouth was hard, stubborn beneath hers. Then something seemed to break inside him, and he pulled her into his arms, his mouth open, devouring hers with a hunger that was both startling and just right. It didn’t matter that her body ached from the accident—she melted against his hard strength and warmth and wanted to sink into his bones, his skin, disappear inside him.

  She pulled him down onto the mattress, the mattress where she’d daydreamed about her perfect lover. She pulled her demon prince down with her, pushing at his clothes, reaching for his zipper with fevered hands, and he was yanking her pants off, throwing them across the room. He pushed her trembling hands away and released himself, fully erect, and she wanted to touch him, to put her mouth on him.

  “If we’re stupid enough to do this, we’re going to do it fast,” he muttered, pulling her legs apart.

  “But I want—” He pushed inside her, one hard, deep thrust that filled her, so powerful that she was shaken, hot, and the first orgasm hit her.

  He withdrew, just enough, his hands cradling her head, his luscious mouth skimming over hers. “You want what? This?” He thrust all the way in again, hard enough that she almost bounced off the mattress, hard enough that another small climax washed over her body.

  “I want—” Another thrust cut her words off once more, as prickly waves of sheer, gorgeous lust took over. “I want I want I want…”

  He was moving fast, his narrow, hard hips driving like a piston, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper still, twining her arms around him, kissing him, her mouth open, her legs open, her heart open. She wanted all of him inside her, every way he could take her. She wanted to lock him tight in her body and never let him go. She wanted to suck his cock and take him up the ass and anything she could possibly think of, and then do it all over again.

  He was hot, sweaty, and so was she, their bodies slapping together in the stillness, and she could feel the final explosion building, and she knew she was going to scream, that nothing could stop her, she was going to shatter and cry out….

  He’d braced himself with his hands on the mattress as he drove into her, and she grabbed one hand, slapping it over her mouth, over her lips, as the last barrier shattered, and she was gone, dissolved in a white-hot flash of pure response, and she could feel him jerk inside her, spilling into her, and she wanted more.

  And then there was nothing left. She collapsed on the mattress, unable to catch her breath, letting the last remnants of orgasm tease her body, and she closed her eyes. Every bone in her body had melted, and when he pulled away from her, she couldn’t even summon the energy to pull him back. She just lay there, sprawled on the mattress, her shirt still on, in a state of such perfect bliss that it ought to be illegal.

  The perfect bliss was shattered when she was hit in the face with her discarded pants. “Get dressed, Ji-chan,” Reno said. “We could have gotten ourselves killed.”

  She opened her eyes. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want to move. She wanted him to come back. But the cold Reno was back, and she sat up, reluctantly doing what he’d told her to do.

  His back was to her, and he was flexing his hand, wrapping something around it. She managed to get to her feet, though there was no question her legs were shaky, and moved over to him. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, and a trace of Reno’s old smirk crossed his face. “Never put your hand in the way of a bitch in heat.”

  “No, you throw cold water on her,” she said, feeling as if she’d been slapped. She took a step back from him, the color flooding her face, when he caught her and pulled her back, up against his body, ignoring her indignant struggles, wrapping his arms tight around her. “I like you in heat,” he said softly. “And you can bite me anywhere you want.”

  She wasn’t appeased. “I think I’d be happier punching you.”

  “You can try,” he said, his voice light. “You aren’t going to stay here and let me see what’s going on, are you?” He sounded resigned.

  “No.”

  “Then at least stay back. I didn’t bring you this far to lose you now.”

  The moment his grip loosened she pulled herself out of his arms. “I’m not yours to lose,” she snapped.

  “Aren’t you? We’ll see about that.” And he unlocked the door, pushing it open into the smoke-filled air.

  “The fires must be spreading,” she said, coughing. “The air wasn’t this bad before.”

  “Maybe someone’s helping.”

  If anyone was left inside the main house, he was probably dead—there were no new lights to spear through the gathering darkness. She headed for the kitchen door, knowing Reno was behind her, knowing he was ready to throw her to the ground and out of the way of danger at a moment’s notice, but she refused to think about it. The kitchen door had locked automatically when she ran out, but she knew the code by heart and punched it in. The lock clicked open, and she stepped back. “On second thought, I’ll let you deal with it,” she said.

  “On second thought, I’m not letting go of you.” He caught her arm, and his hands hurt. He pulled her into the house, turning on the kitchen lights. The yakuza hit man was where she’d left him, rivers of blood pooling beneath him. His throat cut.

  “I thought you said you hit him,” Reno said, not loosening his grip.

  She froze, staring down into the man’s sightless eyes. “I didn’t use a knife,” she said in a low voice.

  “Someone did.” He leaned down to take a closer look, and since he wasn’t letting go of her she was forced closer, as well. The smell of blood and d
eath was overpowering, the smell that had haunted her for what seemed like forever.

  “Please,” she said, trying to pull away.

  He ignored her, turning the man over, ignoring the blood. “Shit,” he said.

  “Shit what? Do you know him?”

  He took the gun from the holster under the dead man’s arm and handed it to her. “Don’t use that on me,” he warned her.

  He looked at the man for a moment longer, then finally moved away, and she allowed herself to breathe again. “He’s Hideto Nakamura. He’s never been part of the Japanese branch of my grandfather’s family—he’s always lived here—but he has a connection. One that’s impossible.”

  “You want to explain it to me?”

  “He’s dead,” Reno said, his voice flat. “This doesn’t make sense. You need to do exactly what I tell you—”

  “How many times have I heard that?” she said.

  He frowned at her. “I’m going to get you out of here before I get rid of the body. We don’t want anyone asking questions that you aren’t going to want to answer.” He dragged her through the kitchen, ignoring her struggles.

  She tried holding back, but it was useless. He was too strong. “I don’t mind talking to the police. Why don’t we call them?”

  “The phone lines are cut, and the cell-phone signal’s been jammed. Nakamura was always good with electronics. The question is, who hired him?”

  “And who killed him? And where is he?”

  “I am here, Lovitz-san.”

  Reno swore, spinning around. Kobayashi had loomed out of the shadows, calm and gentle as always. Even splattered with blood.

  “I thought you died with my grandfather, Kobayashi-san,” Reno said in a calm voice. He’d finally released her, and she knew what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to run. She didn’t move.

  “I wanted to, Hiromasa-san. It would have been my great honor. But I knew I had to avenge him before he died.”

  “Why would you need to avenge him? Hitomi and his men died in the explosion.”

  “The girl,” Kobayashi said, his voice mournful. “If she had not come, this never would have happened. I hoped my nephew would take care of her, make certain the blood price had been paid, that my master would be avenged, but he failed me. Not once, not twice, but three times.”

  “What do you mean?” Jilly said, still in shock as she looked up at the gentle giant with blood on his hands.

  “He was to push you in front of traffic. When that failed, he tried to drive you off the road, but instead you were rescued. And he let you escape today. He has dishonored me. Such carelessness had to be punished. But it is my fault, as well—the task should have been mine to complete.”

  Reno stood very still. “Are you going to kill me, as well, Kobayashi-san? You know my grandfather loved me—he would never have wanted you to hurt me. And you heard what he said to Ji-chan before he died. Are you forgetting that?”

  Kobayashi’s broad forehead wrinkled for a moment, and Jilly realized at that moment that Ojiisan’s bodyguard was bat-shit insane. “She is supposed to die. Someone must pay for the master’s death.”

  “But why her? She had nothing to do with it.”

  Kobayashi blinked. “Everything was good until she came. The oyabun knew what Hitomisan was trying to do, and he had it well under control. Until she came into things and destroyed everything. She must die.”

  “You know you have to kill me first,” Reno said, his voice soft, implacable.

  “I will do what I have to do.”

  Reno moved away from her, toward Kobayashi, and his eyes glittered in the shadowy hallway. “You can try.”

  Kobayashi stood still, his massive body blocking the exit. “It won’t do you any good, young master,” he said. He was holding something in one meaty hand, something small and delicate. It was the digital tape recorder her supposed interviewer was going to use. He clicked it, and Jilly closed her eyes, expecting a thundering explosion. Nothing happened. Until she heard the crackling.

  “My nephew already set the charges. He thought we were going to leave before the house burned, but that was never my intent. We will all die here, and join my master….”

  “Ji-chan, run!” Reno shouted as he leapt toward Kobayashi.

  He was like a spider on a giant warthog. Reno was tall, but bone-ass skinny compared to Kobayashi’s massive bulk, and the big man tried to shake him off like the annoyance he was.

  But Reno was clinging, slamming his elbow into the man’s neck, and the two of them were crashing against the furniture, Reno’s wiry strength little match for Kobayashi’s massive determination.

  Suddenly she realized what she was holding. Nakamura’s gun. It was too much like the gun she’d used in Reno’s apartment, and her stomach lurched again. “Stop it!” she cried, but her voice was drowned out by the grunts and thuds of their uneven battle.

  And then Reno was down, smashed against the floor, unmoving, and Kobayashi turned to her.

  She could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the heat begin to build. Smoke was billowing around the outside of the house, and the drapes in the living room caught, bursting into flame. She pointed the gun at Kobayashi, but her hands were shaking so much she could barely keep it still.

  “A bullet won’t stop me,” Kobayashi said gravely. “This is what must be. You and the young master will die, and be reborn….”

  She cocked the gun. She wasn’t even sure how she knew how to do it, but she pulled back the slide, hearing the chamber click into place. “I’m not ready to be reborn,” she said, her voice as shaky as her hands. “Get away from Reno. We’re getting out of here.”

  He started toward her, keeping between her and Reno’s unmoving body, and there was no way she was going to run out and leave him. It was all or nothing.

  “I’ve killed before,” she warned him, but the gun was shaking even more, and all she could see was the man she’d killed in Reno’s apartment, his head blown half off.

  Kobayashi said nothing, he just kept coming. If his hands had been around Reno’s neck, she could have pulled the trigger. Anything short of that and she was helpless.

  She saw Reno move, just a tiny bit, and knew she had to get Kobayashi away from him. She threw the gun at him, then took off across the marble floor, heading for the long, sweeping staircase that was her mother’s pride and joy.

  The fire was spreading, rapidly, moving through the first floor of the mansion. The nephew must have used some kind of accelerant to make it go so fast, and the heat was coming at her in waves, thick and deadly, following her as she ran up the stairs.

  She could hear the fire engine sirens, but they were far, far away. She moved fast, scrambling up the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain in her ankle. As she raced by the first landing she looked out the window—the fire engines were trying to get through the gate that was blocked by the crashed Hummer. She’d sealed her own fate.

  Kobayashi was coming up the stairs after her, faster than she would have imagined the big man could go. Flames were already licking their way up the wallpaper at the top of the staircase, dancing across the landing to the bedrooms. The bedrooms would go quickly, and then there’d be no escape. And Reno was down there in that inferno.

  Why the hell had she thrown the gun at him? Why hadn’t she just capped Kobayashi between the eyes and dragged Reno’s unconscious body out of harm’s way? She’d picked a hell of a time to get squeamish.

  And then she saw Reno, taking the stairs three at a time, racing to catch up with them, just as Kobayashi caught hold of her loose T-shirt, hauling her backward.

  She lost her footing, her sprained ankle buckling beneath her, and she struck out at him, but he was too big, too strong. She felt him pick her up, carry her to the edge of the marble railing, and she knew she was going to end up smashed in a bloody puddle on the marble floor almost two flights down, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  She kicked uselessly, she scratched at his face, but he
was impervious, carrying her to the edge as if she were a sacrificial cow.

  And then Reno reached them, and his headlong charge left all three of them sprawled on the hard stone stairs. Reno kicked at Kobayashi’s head, but the solid blow didn’t slow him down, any more than the follow-up hits to his neck and kidneys. Kobayashi was simply beyond feeling pain, and he was dragging Reno toward the railing along with Jilly, impervious.

  He was hauling her across the marble steps, painfully, and she looked up at the huge man, clenched her hand into a fist and slammed it into his testicles.

  Kobayashi let out a high-pitched squeal, momentarily taken off balance, releasing Jilly, and Reno took advantage, slamming his leg up high against Kobayashi’s head, again and again, until the big man fell across the wide stone railing, momentarily dazed, trapping Reno’s body beneath his, pinning him there.

  Reno shoved, as hard as he could, but Kobayashi didn’t move, and the flames had spread down below, filling the stairwell, starting to eat their way up Lianne’s organic-grass stair runner.

  “Get out of here!” Reno shouted, his voice muffled as he struggled with the huge man’s weight.

  Jilly didn’t hesitate. She took a flying leap at them, and a moment later Kobayashi went over the side, landing on the marble floor two flights below with a sickeningly wet-sounding splat.

  Blood was pouring down Reno’s head, and he was cradling his arm, but he managed to get to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”

  The flames had reached the bedrooms, billowing out of the open doorways above them, and the smoke was getting so thick she could barely see him. They hadn’t gotten this far only to burn to death. “You’re supposed to be the rescuer,” she said, choking on the thick smoke. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”

  “It’s your goddamned house,” he said in a raw voice. “You tell me.”

  “Come on.” He was too busy cradling his arm with his other hand, and he couldn’t drag her and haul her anywhere. The blood was getting in his eyes, and she took a moment and tried to wipe some of it away. His blood, on her hand. Proof of life, she thought. They weren’t ready to die.