Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [62]
Reno looked at him for a long, silent moment. And then he bowed. “Tell Hitomi-san I’m coming,” he said. “And if he even touches her little finger, I’ll rip his heart out.”
For a moment Kobayashi looked disapproving. “Your grandfather will never approve. Look at the shame and trouble your worthless mother brought to the family. If you choose to marry a gaijin like your father—”
“I’m not marrying anyone!” he protested, truly horrified.
Kobayashi did not look appeased. “Your grandfather will be very unhappy. His days are not long, and you are his favorite grandson.”
“I’m his only grandson,” Reno said. “And I’m not going to let anything happen to the old man. Or to Jilly Lovitz. Is that understood?”
Kobayashi bowed in agreement, lower than Reno would have expected. Maybe it was true that the old man would eventually die, but that wasn’t going to happen for many years, no matter how frail he’d suddenly become. He’d outlive Hitomi-san and his fellow traitors—hell, he’d outlive them all.
“Tell them I’m coming,” Reno said wearily.
“They already know, young master.” He jerked his head toward the black sedan waiting by the curb, one of many at the upscale hotel.
No time to get in touch with Kyo, no time for backup of any sort. If he was going to keep Jilly alive, he was going to have to walk into the lion’s den, just like that stupid story he’d learned in the Bible class he’d been forced to go to to learn some of his mother’s culture. A waste of time, even if there were occasionally good stories.
He nodded. “Let’s go, then.” He yanked his long red braid from underneath his jacket, letting it hang loose down his back, put his sunglasses back on his nose and composed his face into a faint sneer. And then he strolled toward the sedan at a leisurely pace. Ready to do battle.
Why didn’t she ever learn not to run away when things were difficult? Jilly thought. Not that there was anything else to do but think—she was tied up and dumped in some kind of a storeroom, filled with boxes and one narrow cot. Just to make sure she couldn’t investigate, they’d tied her to the cot, and while she could probably hop across the room, dragging the metal bed with her, it didn’t seem to be worth the effort.
How stupid could she have been? Almost three years ago she’d done the same damned thing in California. She’d run away from people sent to protect her, straight into the arms of a madman, and if it weren’t for Isobel Lambert and the Committee she would have been brainwashed or dead or both.
And now she’d done it again. No matter how hurt, how angry she was, she still should have stayed with Reno. He was the only one who had managed to keep her relatively safe, from everyone else, if not from him. She could have given him the cold, silent treatment. Reno was unbelievably tough, but even the strongest man eventually cracked under the silent treatment. Even her ruthless father quailed.
But no, she had to run out of the room, straight into the arms of what could only be Hitomi’s men. She was learning to tell yakuza from a distance—they wore garish suits and had carefully arranged hair, the polar opposite of Reno’s red-dyed mane and black leather. But there was no mistaking the coldness in their eyes, the way they carried themselves.
She hadn’t even gotten to the elevator. In fact, she couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. Someone had put a cloth over her face, and everything went dark. They must have used chloroform or something equally nasty, because the next thing she remembered she was alone in this cold, dark room, bound and gagged. Presumably back in the huge cement warehouse that provided the front for Ojiisan’s headquarters.
Were they going to kill her? If so, why were they waiting?
At least Reno would be relieved—she was no longer his problem. If she had any sense at all, she’d be much more upset