Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [81]
“Touch her and you die,” Reno snarled.
“And how are you going to manage that, young hothead? You have no weapons, you’re outnumbered. Miyavi, Kobayashi, do as I ordered. Unless the oyabun has something to say.”
Hidden behind Reno’s back she could barely see a thing, but the old man gave a slight, imperceptible nod that might have been a reprieve. Except that the nasty-looking Miyavi kept coming, and Kobayashi was approaching, as well, and she and Reno were both going to die.
With a swift push, she went flying backward, into Kobayashi’s waiting arms, and Reno kicked out in a blur of motion, knocking the knife out of Miyavi’s hand, another kick landing to the side of his head. He collapsed in a boneless heap, and Reno scooped up the knife, grabbed Hitomi and pressed it against his throat before the rest of his men could make a move.
She didn’t understand his barked-out words, but the message was clear. Come any closer and Hitomi would die.
Kobayashi released her, setting her carefully aside, and moved back to the oyabun, his head lowered in an attitude of obedience.
“You should never underestimate the house of Shinoda, Hitomi-san,” the old man said in a quiet, commanding voice. “We don’t take well to threats, whether our honor or our women are threatened.”
She understood that statement well enough, and so did Reno, and she half expected him to push Hitomi away and announce to the world and to her that she wasn’t his woman. But Reno didn’t move, his face a blank mask of rage, and there was a thin trickle of blood beginning to slide down Hitomi’s neck and onto his expensive shirt.
“It won’t do any good to kill me, Oyabun,” Hitomi said in a cool voice. “There will be others who follow me. Your time is done—the world has changed and there’s no place for you in it. Hiromasa will only have time to kill me before my men open fire, and then you will all be dead, and…”
She saw the movement of the oyabun’s hand. Even Ojiisan was missing parts of his fingers, and she watched with stunned detachment as he brought his hand down. And then everything was a blur of noise and fire and blood—moving so swiftly her brain couldn’t comprehend it, moving so slowly every moment was etched on her eyeballs.
Reno drew the knife across Hitomi’s throat, slicing deep, letting the body drop as he jumped out of the way as the oyabun’s old men opened fire.
Someone pushed her down on the floor—she wasn’t sure who, and she lay facedown on the thick white carpeting, her arms over her head, trying to shut out the noise, the smell of death that filled the air with such a miasma of dark evil that she wanted to choke. She thought she was screaming, but noise thundered around her and she may have only whimpered.
The gunfire suddenly stopped, and all was eerily silent. Someone was on top of her, and when he released her, she didn’t move, didn’t want to see. From a distance she heard Reno’s voice, talking to his grandfather in frantic Japanese.
If she just stayed like this, she wouldn’t have to see, she told herself. The guns had stopped—no one was likely to shoot her at this point. If she didn’t move…
“Get up,” Taka said, and the sound of his voice was enough of a surprise that she lifted her head. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
The room looked like a scene out of Hamlet. Bodies were everywhere, staining the deep white carpet with dark pools of blood. She let Taka pull her to her feet, looking for Reno amid the carnage.
He was kneeling by his grandfather, who lay across the leather couch, held in loving arms by the loyal Kobayashi, who had tears streaming down his broad face. The old man’s suit was dark with blood, but there was a peaceful expression on his face, and Reno leaned forward to catch his soft words, nodding and answering just as quietly.
“We need to get out of here, Jilly,” Taka said, impatient. “The rest of Hitomi’s men are on their way—I