Fire & Ice (23 page)

The hands reached out from behind, hard, hauling her back, and she kicked out, instinctively, panicked. A moment later she was slammed up against the stone wall, staring into the face of an angry stranger, dressed in loose khakis and a work shirt. A tall, angry stranger, with black shoulder-length hair and red tears tattooed on his cheekbones.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Reno demanded.

She didn't even question his presence.

“I'm trying to get the hell out of here. I don't know whether I killed the man in the kitchen or not, but I'm not staying here a moment longer.” And then it hit her. “What did you do to your hair?” she demanded, horrified.

“You should be asking me what I'm doing here.”

“Okay, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What do you think I'm doing? Trying to save your life. Again.”

“So how did a yakuza hit man get past you?” she said, cross. “You're doing a lousy job of saving me. And I certainly don't need any favors from you.”

“I'm not. This is for your sister.”

There wasn't room enough to hit him, and she wasn't going to cry. “So who's trying to kill me this time? And why? I thought I was safe once I got out of your country.”

“Damned if I know. Taka got word that you were being watched, and he sent me to check it out. I was looking for a back way out when your friend got in. Who have you managed to annoy now?”

“Were you at the hospital two nights ago? “What hospital?”

She should have known that part was still a dream. “Why are the yakuza still after me?”

“What makes you think it's the yakuza?'

“The man in the house is missing part of his fingers. It's either an industrial accident or he's part of your organized-crime family.”

“All members of my grandfather's organization are dead. He has to be from some other family.”

“Then what's he doing here?”

She'd forgotten how cold and dangerous Reno could look. The shorter black hair was all wrong, everything about him was wrong, and what the hell was he doing there, making her hurt all over again?

“I want you to find someplace to hide while I check this out. The garage is secure—I checked it out yesterday. Go in there, lock it, and don't open it until either I or the police tell you to.”

“Go to hell.”

“You're not going to give me attitude, are you?” he demanded, wearily.

“That's all I've got for you.” She brought her knee up, hard, fighting dirty, but he jerked out of the way in time. Leaving her room to run.

She took off across the wide, manicured lawn, running toward the house. She needed to grab her cell phone, call 9-1-1, and the hell with Reno and everyone else who was placed on this earth simply to make her completely insane.

He caught her by the swimming pool with a flying tackle that sent her sprawling on the grass, and a moment later he was on top of her, rolling her over beneath him so that she could look up at him in the smoke-filled dusk. He was staring down at her, and the expression on his face was unreadable. Was it anger? Disdain? Hatred? Or something else?

“You're going to get up and do exactly what I tell you to do,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “Or I swear to God, I'll let them kill you.”

“I'm sure you're tempted,” she shot back, squirming. “But then you'd have to come up with a good excuse for Taka, and I don't think you have it in you. Get off me!

He didn't move, straddling her, ignoring her struggles. It only took her a moment to freeze. He was turned on.

“You sick bastard,” she said, fighting it. Not him. Fighting the heat that had pooled between her legs.

He climbed off of her, hauling her up beside him, his grip like iron. “Healthy,” he said. “Are you going to do what I tell you/

“Fuck, no.”

Before she could stop him he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She beat at his back, but he was impervious, skirting the pool, heading for the garage.

The moment they were in the shadows he veered to the right, to the pool house, kicking the door open and shutting it behind him. The pool house had been closed up for years—Lianne preferred to spend her time in the sun, and no one had ever really liked the place but Jilly. There was an old mattress on the floor, and she used to curl up there and read, safe and secure and hidden just on the rare chance that Lianne or Ralph would remember she existed and start to look for her.

It hadn't changed—if anything it was dustier, but the mattress was still there, and he dropped her down on it, making no effort to cushion her fall.

“Goddamn it!” she said, furious. “I was just in a car accident. You might at least be a little gentle.”

“I'm not feeling gentle right now,” he growled. “If I stay around you a minute longer I'd probably strangle you. I'm going to check the house, see if your supposed yakuza is really dead. And then I'm going to have to find a way to get you out of here. You screwed up the front gate, big-time, and the service entrance has been locked from the house. We can't get out that way, either, unless I disarm it.”

“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 death 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.”