Fire & Ice (2 page)

The men following him, his grandfather's men, were some of the best. Grandfather would tolerate nothing less. It was going to be too bad that they lost him, and if he were a better person, he'd let them catch up with him. Mistakes weren't tolerated.

But he hadn't spent enough time in England to become sentimental. He took the last turn heading into the heart of the city, slowing down just enough to lull his followers, and then took a sharp left, disappearing down an alleyway too narrow for his grandfather's cars. The air was crisp and cold, and he threw back his head and laughed from the sheer exhilaration of the day. He was back home, he'd managed to lose his grandfather's men and he was riding a Harley-Davidson. What more could he ask?

He took another left down the next alleyway, leaning into it, and then came to an abrupt halt. There was no mistaking the white stretch limousine that blocked his way- No mistaking the two black cars that pulled up on either side of it, effectively cutting off any escape. The headlights glared from both sides, filling the trap with an unearthly light.

He climbed off the motorcycle, pulled off the helmet he'd worn more for disguise than safety, shook out his hair and waited.

He recognized the driver of the limo as he lumbered his way out of the front seat. Kobayashi was a former sumo wrestler and his grandfather's personal bodyguard. He was huge, powerful, but not very fast, and Reno figured he stood a good chance of taking him in a fight. He wasn't about to disgrace his grandfather, however, and he simply stood still, waiting for Kobayashi to open the limo door and his grandfather to emerge.

Reno bowed low, and his long tail of hair swung forward, hitting the street. Unfortunate—Grandfather disapproved of the dyed hair and the tattoos almost as much as he disapproved of Reno's new name.

“Hiromasa-chan,” he said sternly, merely dipping his head in return. He had always been a small man, but he looked even more frail in the cold winter light. He was getting old. “What are you doing here? Have your new employers dispensed with your services?”

Belatedly, Reno whipped off the sunglasses his grandfather despised, knowing the tattooed, blood-red tears on his cheekbones would be almost as offensive to the old man's sense of what was proper as the heir. “I've come back for a reason.”

“I had no doubt you would have thought of some excuse. I wonder why you didn't think it was necessary to inform your grandfather that you'd decided to disobey his orders and return home.”

“It concerns the sister of Taka-chan's wife.”

“And you didn't think your grandfather was capable of seeing to the family honor?” His grandfathers voice was soft, deadly.

Reno bowed again. He'd almost gotten out of the habit in the short time he'd been in England, but his grandfather was enough to scare the shit out of anyone. “We didn't wish to disturb you, Ojiisan. We thought it was a matter for the Committee—”

“We?” his grandfather interrupted. “It is only by my kindness that I allow you and your cousin to work for this...Committee. But when it comes to matters of family I am the one who decides what needs to be done.”

Shit, shit, shit. Peter Madsen liked to think he was scary—he was nothing compared to the Old Man. Another goddamned bow. Apparently she's come to Japan to visit her sister.”

And Taka-chan and his wife have gone to the mountains until the Russians can be dealt with,” his grandfather said smoothly.

Reno wasn't surprised he knew so much—it would have been more astonishing if he didn't. “We don't know for sure that they're Russians,” he said.

“Yes, we do. But the arrival of Su-chan's sister is something new. Surely Taka would have told her not to come once he learned of the danger.”

“Apparently it was an impulse. She didn't tell them.”

The old man's expression signified his opinion of the younger generation, gaijin and impulses. “When is she arriving?”

“I don't know, Ojiisan. She may be here already.”

And where would she be staying?”

If it weren't so cold, Reno'd be sweating. The wind was whistling down the alleyway, but compared to his grandfather it was tropical. “I don't know.”

“Did you check the hotels?”

This was the tricky part. “I don't know her full name. It's Jilly...something. She's Su-chan's half sister and her family name is different.”

The sigh his grandfather emitted was so soft that the wind could have whipped it away. But Reno heard it. “Her name is Jillian Lovitz.” He snapped his fingers, and one of the men who'd emerged from the black cars hurried to his side. This was someone new since Reno's banishment. His grandfather said something under his breath, and with a low bow the man returned to the car.

“Hitomi-san will find out what he can.

In the meantime, you will come back to the compound and I will see what I can do—”

“No.”

The silence was absolute. His grandfather froze.

“No,” Reno said again, this time in a steadier voice. “Finding and protecting her is my duty, my responsibility. I don't work for you right now, Ojiisan. I work for the Committee, as does Taka-san. I owe it to my employers and to my cousin to protect his sister-in-law.”

Kobayashi could come over and crush his bones, Reno thought, if his grandfather gave the signal, and the old man looked tempted. But he'd be damned if he'd run. “It's my duty,” he said again, hoping to sway his grandfather.

A tiny motion of one hand, and Kobayashi relaxed. And it is merely a coincidence that this young lady is a pretty young woman?” his grandfather said.

“I don't even remember what she looks like.”

“Do not lie to me. You forget that I raised you. Surely there were enough gaijin in England to keep you busy?”

He could be just as calm as his grandfather. He said nothing—he'd already said enough.

But Reno was up against a master. His grandfather was silent, looking at him out of wrinkled eyes, and the only sound was the traffic beyond the alleyway and the noise of the wind. A moment later Hitomi-san emerged from the black car, an electronic tablet in his hand, and whispered something in his grandfather's ear.

Reno would have given ten years off his life to know what the man said, but he'd be damned if he'd ask. He and Ojiisan were at a standstill—they would both freeze to the ground before either of them blinked.

And then, to his shock, his grandfather lifted his hand and beckoned him closer.

For a moment Reno didn't move. Kobayashi would never catch him if he ran—maybe Ojiisan was bringing him closer to give his sumo bodyguard a clear shot. But pride demanded he approach, and if his grandfather had decided to dispense with him, in the end there wasn't much he could do about it.

He stopped just in front of the frail old man. “The girl arrived earlier today. She hasn't checked into any of the hotels—either she's gone to Taka's house or she found herself a ryokan. And I don't think a gaijin would appreciate the beauty of a traditional Japanese inn.”

He wasn't about to protest. He had no idea what Jilly Lovitz would appreciate or not. And why the hell did her name have so many fucking L's in it? She'd probably done it on purpose, just to annoy him.

“Three Russian nationals with ties to the old KGB also landed in Japan, at Kansai airport a few days ago. We haven't tracked them yet, but unless they had information as to where Taka and Su-chan went, they'd head to Tokyo. Putting your little gaijin in danger.”

“Not so little,” Reno said. “She's as tall as I am. And not mine.”

“You've claimed responsibility for her. She's yours now, at least until you get her home safely. After that you will concentrate on your new work with the Committee until I call for you.”

Reno blinked. His grandfather was giving in—he'd expected more of a battle from the stubborn old man. He'd even been prepared to escape if Kobayashi hustled him into the limo and back to the compound against his will.

But the old man had accepted his choice. “Are you sick?” Reno demanded, suddenly worried. “Dying?”

His grandfather made a face. “You've only been gone six weeks, Hiroma-sa-chan. And if I were dying, you'd be the first to know, and you'd be back here, taking your proper place in the family, not playing spy like your cousin Taka-chan. You say Jillian is your responsibility and you refuse my help—so be it. I would suggest that you don't fail. If you think I'm difficult, then you have forgotten how ruthless your cousin can be. He wouldn't like the sister of his wife to be in any danger, and he wouldn't hesitate to express his displeasure if you let anything happen to her.”

“I'm not going to let anything happen to her. That's why I'm back here, against your instructions. I'll find her and send her back home, and then I'll return to England and continue my new work.”

If his grandfather didn't find that a pleasing prospect, he didn't say so. “Don't take too long, Hiromasa-chan.”

“I expect I'll find her at Taka-chan's house and we'll be out of the country by tomorrow.”

“I wasn't talking about the girl. I have no doubt you'll find her quickly. I'm talking about something else entirely. I'm not going to live forever.”

He looked down at the little old man who had always scared the hell out of him. “Yes, you will, Ojiisan,” he said softly. “You're too old and mean to die.”

“Disrespectful,” his grandfather sniffed, looking pleased. “Go find the girl and keep her safe. And whatever you do, do not fall in love with her. We've already had too many gaijin in the family. You need a nice Japanese girl to marry. I'll make the arrangements myself.”

“I don't want to marry anyone. At least not right now. And I don't believe in falling in love.”

“Just remember that,” his grandfather said. He reached up and put a hand on Reno's shoulder, and his grip was still powerful. “And cut your hair,” he added, peevish.

To hug his grandfather would have been very bad form, particularly with his men watching. Reno had to make do with a deep bow, moving back as the old man climbed into the limo.

He waited until his grandfather's army left before he went back to his Harley. It started with the guttural roar that was one of his favorite sounds in the world, and he took off into the growing darkness. Looking for someone he wasn't sure he wanted to find.

Jilly awoke suddenly, the developing darkness like a blanket over her head. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't remember where the hell she was.

It only took a second for the memories to come flooding back. She was in Japan at her sister's house, and it was sometime in the middle of the night.

She forced her breathing to slow. She could still feel her heart slamming against her chest—the momentary panic had been unexpected and powerful. She closed her eyes again in the inky darkness. And then she heard it.

A noise beyond her closed door—someone was moving around in the front bedroom, quietly, so as not to disturb anyone.

Taka and Summer must have returned. She scrambled to her feet, relief flooding her. She hadn't allowed herself to worry about them; Taka was the kind of man you could count on to face down an army. Summer would always be safe with him.

She reached for the door, then hesitated. She was wearing flannel boxers and a tank top to sleep in—a little informal for company. It would have to do. Taka would politely avert his enigmatic gaze, and Summer would find her something to wear, make tea and comfort her.

It wasn't until she opened the door that she considered the extremely unpleasant notion that it might be someone other than her sister and her husband. She could see the refracted beam of a flashlight dance around the room at the end of the corridor. Why would Taka use a flashlight? He knew where the lights were.

And why weren't they talking? If Taka had come alone, why was he trying to be so quiet?

She froze, all her latent instincts swamping her. She knew this feeling, remembered it far too well. She'd been trapped once before, held captive by a very dangerous group of people just two short years ago. Isobel had rescued her, but Isobel was far away, and the Committee would have no reason to worry about her. No one even knew she'd come to Japan, unless her sister had decided to check for messages. This time it was going to be up to her to get out of whatever mess she got herself into.

There was no way out the way she'd come—the windows in the back room were high and narrow. There was no place to hide back there, either. If someone was searching the place, they'd find her.

And maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all. Now she could hear low murmuring voices, and she strained to hear enough to translate.

But they weren't speaking Japanese, they were speaking Russian, and she was in deep shit.

She took a step backward, her bare feet silent on the tatami mats, when something came at her from the darkened cavern of the bedroom, swooping down on her like a giant bird of prey, clamping a hand over her mouth before she screamed, holding her back against his body in an iron grip.

And it was a “him.” Taller than she was, and much, much stronger. Any attempt she made to struggle was swiftly countered. She kicked her long legs back, and one leather-clad leg caught hers as he pulled her back into the bedroom with rough hands, closing the door, trapping them in there.

“Hold still!” a voice hissed in her ear. She didn't know the voice—she'd barely heard him speak in the past, and then it had been in Japanese. But she knew who it was, with an instinct just as powerful as the ones that told her she was in danger.

She immediately stopped struggling. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, like an iron bar, pressing against her ribs. He loosened the pressure slightly as he felt her stillness.

“If you make a sound, you'll die. Do you understand?” he whispered in her ear, so quietly it was almost soundless. For a moment Jilly wondered who was the threat—the men beyond the closed door or the one holding her clamped against him?

She nodded, as much as his smothering hand would let her, and he slowly began to release her.

She wondered what would happen if she screamed. Would he snap her neck and leave her for his cousin to find?

He stepped back, soundlessly, and she turned to look at him. Her eyes had started to grow accustomed to the inky blackness. It was Reno, all right, closer than she'd ever been to him. In the darkness she could see the glitter in his eyes and not much more.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

She didn't have a choice. He pushed her out of the way, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

For half a minute she was tempted to try to escape. There was noise now—thuds and bumps and a sound, almost like a cry, cut off before it even began. And then silence.

He was dead, and there was nothing she could do but wait there until they found her. The only thing she had to defend herself was her backpack, heavy with books, and she picked it up, ready to fling it at the head of the first man who came through her door.

The footfalls were loud as they approached the bedroom, and she knew she was screwed. Reno had been silent as a ghost, and no Japanese would enter a house with his shoes on.

The door opened, and she slammed the backpack toward his head with all her strength.

“Holy motherfucker,” Reno said in a disgruntled voice. “What are you doing?”

He switched on the light, and for a moment she was blinded. He closed the door, shutting them in, shutting whatever it was out.

She blinked. How could she have forgotten? The flame-red hair, the tattooed cheekbones, the faint sneer on his admittedly beautiful mouth.

“You probably don't remember me,” she said, nervous. He was taller than she remembered, older than she remembered, wilder than she remembered. As dangerous, as exotic, as mesmerizing as her embarrassingly adolescent fantasies, and she faced the truth. She hadn't come here for her sister's comfort or for a look at the Heian-era pottery. She'd come back for him. And it had been a mistake.

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice cool and emotionless, his English perfect. “Why do you think I'm here?”

“Visiting Taka and Summer?” she said.

“Taka and Su-chan are in hiding where no one can get to them.”

“Why? Are they in danger?”

He looked even more irritated. “Everyone who works for the Committee is in danger. Do you usually show up uninvited? Because I know Taka would never have forgotten to warn you.”

Now that her initial fear had faded, she was starting to get pissed off. Whatever had been threatening her was gone, fain-tales were over, and she wasn't about to let this almost-stranger bully her. “I am always welcome at my sister's house,” she said in a frosty voice. “She's been wanting me to come.”

“I don't think so. She wanted you as far from Japan as she could get you.”

“Why?”

Reno blinked, his face giving nothing away. “Ask her when you see her. In the meantime we have to get you out of here before the Russians send someone else.”

“Russians? What are you talking about? What Russians?” she demanded.

“Paid mercenaries,” he said briefly. “It doesn't concern you—you just got in the line of fire. I'll put you in a taxi to the airport and you won't have to worry about it—”

“Oh, hell, no. I'm not getting back on a plane.”

“I'll tie you up and put you on it myself.”

Had she ever thought he was fascinating? Beautiful? He was an obnoxious bully, and it was a good thing she found out now before she let her adolescent fantasies get out of control. Or more out of control, since they'd already given her a good run.

“I don't think so,” she said with deceptive calm.

He cocked his head to one side, looking at her for a long, silent moment. “You'd better get some clothes on,” he said. “Unless you want to go out on the streets of Tokyo in your underwear.”

She'd forgotten her skimpy attire, and she could feel her fair skin flushing. Which was ridiculous—he was making it patently clear that he had no interest in her.

So much for daydreams.

She scooped up her scattered clothes. “I'll be ready in a minute,” she said, heading for the door.

Only to have him reach out and slam it shut. “You can get dressed here. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

“If you expect me to get dressed, you're going to have to.”

He simply leaned back against the door, folding his arms across his chest.

She made a low, growling noise. He didn't move. With a frustrated sigh she turned her back to him, reaching for her bra.

Putting it on while she was still wearing the tank top was tricky, but she managed, turning back around triumphantly when she finished. Only to find he wasn't even watching her—she could've ripped off her shirt and flashed him and he wouldn't have noticed. He was staring at his cell phone, reading a text message.

She yanked her jeans on over the boxers, pulled a long-sleeved T-shirt over her head and shoved the last of her things into the heavy backpack. He didn't move, still staring at the tiny screen.

Then he glanced up at her, almost as if he'd forgotten her existence.

“Trouble,” he said.

People like Reno and Taka wouldn't use that term lightly, and Jilly froze. “Is it my sister? Has something happened?”

He was texting back, his long, slender fingers flying over the keypad, ignoring her. He glanced up at her. His eyes were a deep rich brown—for some reason, she had thought they were green. “Are you ready? Where are your shoes?”

“In the entryway, of course.” If he was surprised that she knew proper etiquette, he didn't show it. Are you going to answer my question? What kind of trouble?”

“Read for yourself,” he said, tossing the phone to her. He was lucky; she just managed to catch it. It wouldn't help either of them if it shattered on the hard floor. She looked down at the text message.

“Very funny,” she said, resisting the impulse to throw the phone back at him. She placed it carefully in his outstretched hand. “I cant read kanji.”

“I know.” He shoved the phone in the pocket of his pants, making the leather pull against his crotch for a moment.

And what the hell was she doing, noticing? It had become clear quite quickly that Reno was the enemy, and the smartest thing she could do was to get away from him as soon as possible, or she probably would find herself on a plane back to L.A., and she wasn't going anywhere until she saw Summer. Of course, escaping from someone on their home turf was great in theory, but tricky in practice. She could try reason, though the man standing in front of her didn't look particularly reasonable. He looked annoyed, bored and impatient.

And to think she used to lie in her bed at her family's mansion in the Hollywood Hills and fantasize about him. Them. Together.

Her sister had warned her about Reno. And she had no doubt that she and Taka had done their best to keep her away from the punk black sheep of the family.

Big mistake on their part. Ten minutes in his presence and she was so over him. A little exposure therapy would have taken care of the problem long ago.

She took a deep, calming breath. “We're on the same side, you know. I just want to find my sister. Just let me talk to her.”

“I don't know where they are. Perhaps my English isn't that good or maybe you just aren't listening. They're in hiding—people are out to kill them, and they'll use you to get to them. So you're going back to your safe life in Hollywood and leaving the professionals to take care of things.”

“Professionals? You don't strike me as Committee material. Not if Taka and Peter are anything to go by.”

The insult went right past him. “Stop stalling. We need to get the hell out of here.”

“Not until you tell me what was on the cell phone.”

For a moment he looked as if he'd toss her over his shoulder and haul her ass out of there. She'd like to see him try. They were close to the same height—five feet ten inches, and she wasn't built along the whipcord lines he was.

Maybe he thought better of using force. “Three Russian operatives arrived in Japan four days ago to kill Taka-san and his wife. They were forewarned and went into hiding. Five more Russians arrived at Narita airport several hours ago, and they're going to want to catch up with the first three.” And?”

“And the first three are dead. Or close enough that it won't matter. The newcomers don't seem to know that their paycheck has dried up. As soon as they do they'll go on to their next job and we'll be safe. Unless they decide to take revenge for the loss of their friends. Whatever the case, we need to get the hell out of here before someone finds them.”

“Them?”

“The first three Russians,” he said impatiently. “Come on.”

He moved away from his spot against the door, opening it. He turned off the light, plunging them into darkness once more, and he took her hand in an unbreakable grip. “Just stay with me and look straight ahead,” he growled.

“Why did you turn off the lights? I thought we were safe.”

“There are some things you're better off not seeing.”

Enough was enough, Jilly decided, incensed. Reno was old-fashioned and sexist, the polar opposite of his cousin. “I can judge that for myself,” she said, switching the light back on before he could stop her.

She saw the pool of blood first, then the body of the man.

His head was at a strange angle, and the blood was coming from his mouth and his ears and his slashed throat. Beyond him was another body, eyes wide-open and staring, lying spread-eagled in a pool of blood, dead, as well.