by Anne Stuart
She went up the last few steps of the massive staircase, into the fiery heat, knowing he was following her. “Keep low,” he shouted at her, and she ducked as the smoke swirled overhead.
The only windows that opened in the house were those in her bedroom—Ralph and Lianne Lovitz preferred their air processed. The fire was just beginning to eat through the wallpaper on her bedroom wall, the awful girly stuff her mother had chosen, and she watched it go with mixed feelings. She headed for the casement windows, ready to shove them open when he stopped her.
“Wait,” he said, panting. “It could cause a backdraft and burn us to a cinder.”
“We don’t have any other choice,” she said. “The swimming pool is down below. If we can just jump out far enough, we’ll be okay. Otherwise we’ll both be dead, so we might as well go for it. Just answer me one question.”
“I’m not answering anything…”
“What did your grandfather say to me before he died.”
“You speak Japanese!” he snapped.
“I couldn’t hear him.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“What did he say?”
Exasperated, Reno ran his hand through his thick hair. “He said ‘Welcome to the family, Granddaughter,’” he snarled.
“In that case, maybe it’s worth living after all,” she said.
He moved away from her and shoved her door closed with his shoulder, cursing as it burned through the rough shirt. “That should slow it down.” He caught her hand in his, and shoved the casement windows, leaning over to look down at the pool below. He turned back, and there was an odd light in his eyes. “Did I ever tell you that I can’t live without you?” he said.
“No,” she said. “You can tell me about it when we survive.” She could barely breathe, death was eating its way toward her, and she wanted to laugh out loud with the joy of it.
He shook his head, and then grinned at her, Reno, even with the shorter black hair, the bad boy who liked to live dangerously. “Come on, Ji-chan. We don’t have all day.” He grabbed her hand, and they ran, throwing themselves through the open window with all the force they could muster.
She lost her hold on his arm as she went sailing through the cool, smoky air, and then the water went over her head, and she was choking, her feet touching the bottom of the swimming pool and then pushing up, up, until her head broke the surface.
“Reno!” she screamed.
He bobbed up beside her, and he looked as if he’d just taken his favorite ride at Disneyland.
“Right here, Ji-chan.”
“Bitch in heat?” she said. And she punched him in the jaw as hard as she could. Watching with satisfaction as he sank back down beneath the chlorinated water.
23
“We’ve been seeing a little too much of you lately, young lady,” the emergency-room doctor said. “Twice in three days is not a good thing.”
Jilly tried to summon a smile, not quite sure if it was working. Her sprained ankle felt as if it was broken, though they assured her it wasn’t; she had burns on the left side of her body, bruises just about everywhere else; and it was sheer luck she hadn’t drowned.
“Have you been depressed? Feelings of worthlessness? I can arrange for someone to talk to you.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I’m not suicidal. Someone was trying to kill me.”
He patted her hand. “Let me call the social worker.”
“I don’t need to talk to someone. I need to go home.”
“The police are wanting to talk with you, as well. You’ve been through a shock—it’s no wonder you’re disoriented.”
“I’m not disoriented!” she said. “Where’s Reno?”
“North of Las Vegas, last I heard,” he said.
Kicking him would send her off to the psych ward immediately, so she restrained herself. “The man who was brought in with me. Where is he?”
“Mr. Shinoda? He was treated and released.”
Of course he was. Gone without a word. Probably halfway to Tokyo by now, and unless some other maniac surfaced to try to kill her, she wouldn’t see him again.
Of course, she could always egg someone on. He’d assured her that anyone who spent time around her would wind up homicidal. That hadn’t happened until she ran afoul of him, but if it was that easy, she could doubtless get someone to try to strangle her if it would bring Reno back.
She was out of her mind. He was gone, and good riddance. “I want to go home,” she said again.
“I’m sorry, Miss Lovitz, but right now there’s no home to go to. Your house is gone, and the entire neighborhood has been evacuated. You must have some friends in the area, someone you could stay with for the time being? The police have been in touch with your parents and they’re flying home, but in the meantime you need—”
“In the meantime I need to get the hell out of here,” she said. She smelled of smoke and chlorine, every inch of her body ached, and her heart, already smashed into little pieces, had somehow managed to re-break. Falling in love had to be the stupidest thing imaginable. Reno was right—if you feel it coming on, you just lie down until it passes.
“Would you like us to call someone for you?”
“I need a taxi to take me to the Beverly Hilton,” she said. “Nothing else.”
“Wait right here and the social worker will be with you.”
He disappeared before she could make another protest, and she bit back a snarl. One that she swallowed, as she suddenly realized the name tag on the elderly doctor’s coat. Dr. Yamada.
Dr. Yamada had climbed into bed with her and held her, kissed her, and it certainly wasn’t that annoying old man. There was an observation window overlooking her cubicle, and she could see the good doctor in earnest conversation with a policeman and a woman who looked like a jail-house matron. Probably the social worker, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out.
She slipped off the table, wincing as she put her weight on her sprained ankle, and began moving toward the back of the cubicle, when the enveloping curtains were pulled back. He was there after all, a bandage across his forehead, his arm in a sling, his bad-boy smile in place, despite the fact that she’d managed to split his lip when she’d punched him.
She managed not to throw herself into his arms. She froze, looking at him. “You never told me. What happened to your beautiful hair?”
“I needed to blend in. You can’t guard someone if you stand out like a parrot.”
“You cut it for me?”
She was waiting for a denial, but none came. “Someone was following you. I needed to make certain you were safe. I got here a little late, though. You were already in the hospital.”
“And you were there, too.”
He didn’t deny that, either. “You want to get the hell out of here? They were talking about putting you under psychiatric observation when I went by.”
He was going to kill her. He was going to break her heart all over again, in tiny little pieces. She should just lie down and wait for it to pass. But she only wanted to lie down with him.
“I thought you’d be halfway to Tokyo by now,” she said, stalling.
“Not without you.”
Oh, man, she was so screwed. He was bad enough when he was giving her shit. Right now he was looking at her as if she was the most precious thing on earth, and she knew what she looked and smelled like. The world had turned upside down.
“I don’t suppose you love me,” she said. “Even a little bit?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Ji-chan. Why else would I be here? Now, do you want to stay here or do you want to prove you’re really crazy and come with me?”
“Will you grow your hair again?”
“If you want me to.”
“Then tell me.”
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you? Su-chan warned me about you.”
“She warned me, too. Tell me.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Aishiteru,” he
muttered.
“In English.”
“I love you.”
She beamed at him. “I love you, too. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Holy motherfucker, yes!” he said, relieved. And a moment later they were gone.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1606-2
FIRE AND ICE
Copyright © 2008 by Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge.
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