by Anne Stuart
He’d be back. The only reason he wouldn’t be back was if he’d been killed. One man in a cheap car against an SUV-load of mercenaries who already held a grudge. She was an idiot to think he had a chance in hell of making it.
She should get to her feet. Try to walk out of here, but her feet were numb and she was shivering too badly to get to her feet. She needed to stop crying—the tears would be freezing to her face before long. She rubbed them away with her sleeve. He was dead, she was abandoned, and she didn’t know which was worse.
“Are you crying?”
The voice was annoyed, impatient, and came from the hill below her, as Reno appeared from a thick stand of trees.
She didn’t stop to think, she simply flew from her huddled spot and leapt on him, knocking him flat as she wept all over him.
“I thought you were dead!” she sobbed. “I thought they’d caught you and killed you and I was going to die alone in the woods.”
He lay still beneath her for a moment, then pulled her arms away from his neck, pushing her up so he could look at her. “I’m hard to kill,” he said. There was an odd expression in his eyes, one she couldn’t read. But she could guess. Annoyance.
“Sorry,” she said, scrambling to her feet, slipping a bit on the icy ground. He jumped up, effortlessly, catching her arm as she slid, holding her upright.
“Come on,” he said after a long, awkward moment. “The truck’s down below.”
“The truck? Where’d you get a truck?”
“I stole it.”
She sighed, the sound shaky as she pulled herself together. “You’re lucky your grandfather’s a gangster or they’d throw your ass in jail so fast. Unless stealing cars is considered a minor crime.”
“I wouldn’t call Ojiisan a gangster,” he said, starting down the steep hill, one hand clasped on her hand. “And I’m not sure I’d call myself lucky. I think he’s got a traitor in his organization. Your Russians have had inside information—there’s no way they’d know about the summerhouse unless someone told them.”
She skidded, and his hand tightened on her arm. She was going to have bruises, she thought. Unless her flesh was too frozen to show them. “You said he owned the place. Maybe they just made an educated guess. And they’re not my Russians. They’re after you now, too.”
“I don’t believe in educated guesses.” He tugged at her. “Hurry up. We need to get out of here before the snow gets deeper.”
“I’m t-t-trying,” she said, unable to control her shivers.
He halted. “Idiot gaijin,” he muttered under his breath, stripping off his leather jacket. “You could have told me you were cold.”
She didn’t want to accept it, but he wasn’t giving her any choice. She felt the warmth wrap around her, his body warmth, as he shoved her arms inside and pulled it tight. He was skinny, she had boobs, but at least he managed to zip it up, cursing the whole time. And even if she felt the accidental brush of his hand across her breast, he didn’t notice.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her teeth still chattering as the warmth sank into her bones. He was only wearing a dark T-shirt, and somehow, in these dire circumstances, she managed to notice that for a skinny punk he certainly filled out the T-shirt well. She also saw the dragon tattoo snaking down his arm. How fitting.
“I’ll survive,” he said, starting the steep descent once more, dragging her after him.
The hike down seemed endless, but at least she’d stopped shivering. Her sneakers kept slipping in the thin layer of snow, but Reno, in his smooth-soled cowboy boots, seemed to be having no trouble at all. His bright red hair was a beacon in the moonlit night—probably keeping him warm, she thought grumpily. When they finally came out onto the deserted mountain road, the small, narrow delivery van was waiting.
“Thank God,” she breathed, heading for the passenger door.
Only to have him catch her, hauling her back. “Right-hand drive,” he reminded her, opening the door.
Now that they’d finally reached their destination, her muscles decided not to work. She tried to climb up into the van, but her legs refused to obey her, and her hands were too numb to haul herself in.
He picked her up effortlessly, which was a shock, and put her in the seat, closing the door before coming around the other side. He reached beneath the dashboard and the engine roared to life, the headlights spearing through the darkness down the long, narrow road ahead.
“Aren’t you afraid the Russians are going to find us?” She fumbled with the seat belt, finally managing to fasten it.
“No.”
“Why?”
He shot her a look. “You don’t want to know.”
“You killed them? How many people have you killed?” she demanded, shocked.
“Their car went off the road. I don’t know whether they’re dead, and I don’t care. At least they’re not a problem right now. And as for how many people I’ve killed, you don’t want to know that, either.”
She should feel sick. Horrified, stunned. But the horrible truth was, she felt fine. He killed. He killed to protect her. And some ancient, atavistic streak inside her wanted to preen and purr. She was one sick puppy.
To cover the silence she leaned forward, fiddling with the knobs. “Is there any way to turn up the heat?”
“Probably not. Stop bitching. I gave you my jacket.”
“I didn’t ask you to. And I’m not bitching. I’m just not used to winters.”
“I forgot—you’re a California girl.” He made it sound one step removed from the village idiot.
She started to unzip the jacket. “Take your goddamn coat…”
His arm slammed out, stopping her. “Leave it on,” he said. “I don’t need it, and you do.”
As a matter of fact, she wished he would put it back on. She could see him too well in the reflection of the dashboard lights, and his muscled arms were…disturbing.
Get over him, Jilly, she told herself sternly. He thinks you’re a pain in the ass.
“Okay, I give up,” she said. “Take me to the airport and I’ll get the first plane out. I won’t fight you.”
“It wouldn’t do you any good if you did fight me. You’re getting out as soon as it’s safe. Until I find out what’s going on we’re on our own, and I’m not going to let you walk into a trap.”
“I’d be grateful you’re looking out for me if I didn’t think you were simply afraid of your cousin.”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “I can hold my own against Taka. Remember, I grew up with him. But you’re right, I don’t want to piss him off unnecessarily. Besides, I like your sister.”
“You do?” She was astonished. “My sister told me you hated all American women.”
“There are exceptions.” He didn’t look at her this time, and his voice was cool. While she sincerely doubted she was one of the exceptions, she wasn’t going to push it.
“So you’re not taking me to the airport?”
“No.”
Staying in Japan was hazardous to her health. Staying with Reno was asking for trouble. So why was she relieved? Because she’d gone out of her freaking mind, that’s why.
“Why are you shaking your head?”
She jerked, startled. He must have been watching her. How often had he watched her when she hadn’t realized it? And what had she given away?
“Just disbelief about this stupid situation,” she said in all honesty. He wouldn’t know that the stupidity was her reaction to him.
“You walked into it. You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Are you always this sympathetic?”
To her surprise he laughed. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard him laugh before. She certainly hadn’t seen him smile. “Are you always such a pussy?” he said.
She almost choked. “Believe it or not, I’m not used to running for my life.”
“You managed once before.”
“Isobel was a lot nicer.”
“True enough. I’m n
ot very nice.”
“I noticed,” she grumbled.
He laughed again. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was enjoying this. But he couldn’t be. He was saddled with a major irritation, and they were on the run for their lives. He could hardly be having a good time.
She settled back into her seat, folding her arms across her chest. Hugging the jacket around her, as if it were his arms around her, protecting her. At least he wouldn’t realize what she was doing.
Maybe, when she finally got on a plane back to California, he’d let her keep the jacket. It probably had American female cooties on it. Maybe it would remind her of what an idiot she’d been.
Or maybe it would remind her of how his warm, hard body had felt beneath hers when she’d knocked him over in hysterical relief.
Even without the jacket she was going to have a hard time forgetting.
She needed to get laid. It was that simple, and it was only her ridiculously semivirginal state that was making her crazy. Obsessed with Reno. She needed to get back to California, choose the first nice, good-looking man she could find and get it over with. Someone with more discretion, patience and sympathy than the wretched Duke. And then she’d be completely immune.
Because there was no room in her life for a Yakuza punk samurai.
Or to be honest, there was no room in his life for her. And the sooner she accepted that fact the better off she’d be.
She hugged herself anyway, snuggling deeper into the leather. If that was the only kind of embrace she was going to get she might as well enjoy it. It was going to be over soon enough.
The crazy, fucked-up thing was, he was enjoying himself. On the run for his life, with a gaijin tagging along, and he was feeling more alive than he had in a long time. Taka would kill him.
Reno looked over at her. She was huddled into his jacket, her face turned away, and he knew a moment’s regret. He would have much rather been the one to wrap around her, but he had too much regard for his life to risk Taka’s wrath. He was going to keep her in one piece, unmolested, no matter how tempting she was. It wasn’t as if there weren’t a thousand other women in the world.
Besides, even worse than Taka, he didn’t want to upset Su-chan. Women were like that—able to make you feel like a total shit with just a look, and he’d made a promise. He’d prefer it if Taka took a swing at him.
No, things would be much better all around if he just left her alone. Taka and Su-chan would be happier, Grandfather would be happier, he and Jilly would be happier. If she’d just stop looking at him when she thought he didn’t notice.
If he could just stop thinking about the erotic possibilities of her mouth and her long, curved body.
He needed to concentrate on the business at hand. Who had told the Russians where to find them? Someone close to his grandfather, someone the old man trusted, and the old man didn’t trust many people.
At least the Russians were taken care of, in a twisted heap of metal at the bottom of a cliff, and instinct told him that was the last of them.
Unless someone decided to take the two of them out for the fun of it, and mercenaries kept business and pleasure far apart. If they kept coming it meant that someone else was paying the bills.
He glanced over at her. No one was getting to her, no one was going to hurt her. He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about an irritating stranger, but he did. No one was going to hurt her.
Not even him.
6
Takashi O’Brien stood on the narrow porch of the old inn, staring out at the Pacific Ocean. It was off-season on the island of Hokkaido, and most of the places were closed for the winter. No one knew that he and Su-chan were hidden up here in a place that had once belonged to his grandfather. They’d arrived at the small inlet by boat, with enough food to keep them going until they heard it was safe to come back. But Taka was getting edgy.
“Is something wrong?” He heard his wife’s sleepy voice behind him. He turned to look at her—she was wrapped in a duvet, her long hair in her eyes, her mouth as delicious as always.
He went to her, pulling her into his arms, keeping the duvet wrapped tight around her naked body so the cold winter wind wouldn’t bite into her. “I should have heard something by now.”
“But we don’t get cell-phone service out here. At least, my phone didn’t work.”
“Cell phones don’t work. My PDA works on a different frequency. Peter won’t use it until he knows it’s safe, and there’s no word.”
She leaned back against him, and he could feel her warmth sink into his bones. It was easy enough to stop thinking and lose himself in her, but he’d let things go on for long enough. “You think they haven’t been able to stop the Russians?” she asked.
“It should have been an easy job. My great-uncle’s organization is very efficient—there was no need for anyone else to be involved. But it should have been dealt with days ago. Something’s wrong. They shouldn’t keep on coming.”
“Are we going back, then?”
“I’m going back. You’re staying here where it’s safe. There’s more than enough firewood, and the food will last long enough if you ration your Diet Coke habit.” He could feel her stiffen in his arms, and he kissed the top of her head. “Trust me.”
“Like hell,” she said sweetly, pulling away from him. “You know you can’t make me stay here.”
“You know I can.”
She just looked at him. He’d seen that look before, and it always meant trouble. It was a good thing he was going to be out of reach for the next few days. She’d build up a good head of steam, probably come at him with a knife, and then there’d be mind-fucking sex.
“Let’s get our things,” he said in his most resigned voice.
“I’m glad you’re learning,” she shot back, turning and heading into the empty inn. Dropping the duvet on the floor as she headed to the bedroom.
He picked it up, following her, wondering if there was enough time for sex to lull her into a false state of security. Probably not. Once on alert, he didn’t dare waste time.
She went into the bedroom, he tossed the duvet after her, then slammed and locked the door. If he moved fast, she wouldn’t realize there was a way out the back of the room, smashing through the paper screens.
He could still hear her yelling as he ran out of the building, down onto the beach and the boat they’d hidden. He was well out into the water when she finally appeared on the beach, stark naked, screaming at him. For a moment he was afraid she’d try to swim after him, but even in her fury she had enough sense not to jump into a winter ocean.
“I’ll be back as soon as it’s safe,” he shouted to her, but she was too busy screaming curses at him to hear. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was making sure no one could get to her. He’d been counting on his great-uncle to take care of things. Clearly he was going to have to do it himself.
And then he was going to have to spend a lot of time making it up to Summer.
“You sadistic son-of-a-bitch asshole!” she shrieked. “Get your scrawny butt back here!”
But he simply gunned the motor, loud enough to drown her out, looked forward and sped away, as her cries of anger disappeared into the foggy morning.
Reno drove fast, as he always did. If the police stopped him, it might be the best thing—they’d take both of them into custody and no stray mercenary would be able to get within a hundred feet of them. Of course, that would mean his grandfather would have to pull a few strings to get them out, but that would be child’s play to a man like his grandfather.
Unless, of course, he delegated the job to whoever had ratted them out.
No, maybe the police weren’t the answer. He hated to admit weakness, but he was tired and hungry, and more than anything, he needed a few hours of sleep before he could figure out what the fuck he was going to do.
Heading back toward Tokyo was a no-brainer—whether or not he was going to stop or keep on straight to Osaka remained to be seen. He’d
need to ditch the delivery truck and find something with a little more power. He could buy something, but that would leave a paper trail, and right now he and Jilly needed to disappear. Ojiisan was going to have to make a lot of amends by the time Reno was ready to head back to England.
If he was going back. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that if he’d stayed in Japan his grandfather wouldn’t be nurturing a traitor in his midst. Not that the old man had gotten weak. He’d be a powerhouse until he died, but lately he’d been passing on a lot of his power to his subordinates. The business had changed, he’d told Reno. Where there’d once been a code of honor, now there were just hoodlums and drug dealers. Ojiisan had always steered clear of the drug trade. He’d made a good enough living from the more respectable business of gambling and protection. He dabbled in counterfeit designer goods, as well, but never enough to disturb the police, who turned a politely blind eye to him and his business.
But the heads of Yakuza families didn’t retire. The oyabun retained their power until they died, and were mourned by their kobun, their loyal soldiers. But one of his grandfather’s soldiers wasn’t so loyal, and that could spread among the younger men who wanted the kind of money drugs and weapons could bring in. Grandfather was right—there was no honor left.
He glanced over at her. She was staring out into the darkness, and in the darkness he couldn’t see her clearly. It didn’t matter—what she was thinking made no difference to him. His way was clear. In the meantime he was going to have to resort to drastic measures. And he didn’t think his unwilling hostage was going to like it one tiny bit.
She was doing her best to ignore him as he sped through the night, but when he pulled out his cell phone and started pushing buttons, she almost shrieked.
“Is that legal? To talk on the phone while you drive?” she demanded, clutching the seat.
He glanced over at her. “I’m driving a stolen car, Ji-chan. I think the cell phone is the least of my worries.” And he began speaking into the phone in rapid Japanese.
