Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [101]
“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.