He drove over the rise and started down the steep little road that led to the sheltered summerhouse below. There were no lights at the end of the road—a surprise. His grandfather had told him he’d have the caretaker open up the place for them. It was getting colder, and there was the smell of snow in the air.
He stopped the car in the middle of their descent, so abruptly it skidded for a moment, and stared at the elaborate house through the misty darkness.
“We’re walking?” Jilly said, reaching for her seat belt.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. The road to the summerhouse was deliberately narrow, to keep the approach quiet and soothing, and he was damned if he could think of a place to turn around, even in this tiny car. He stared down at the bathhouse, then shoved the car into Reverse and began backing up the steep, winding road as fast as he could.
Lights flared on at the seemingly deserted house, and then he heard the pop, pop, pop of what could only be gunfire a
s the wheels spun. A moment later one shattered the windshield.
“Get down!”
Jilly was fumbling frantically with her seat belt, trying to refasten it, and he couldn’t afford to give her even a moment of attention. “Forget about it,” he snarled, pushing her down into the well of the car as he turned to guide the car back up the incline as fast as the damned thing would go.
He could see headlights of another car now, down at the house. They were coming after them, and whatever they were driving was bound to be faster than the anonymous piece of shit he’d stolen. If he didn’t figure a way out of this, they were going to die.
She was crouched down, and all he could see was the top of her blond head. He swore under his breath as he backed the car up, the tires spinning on the dirt road, faster, as the lights in front of him were getting brighter.
“When I tell you to, I want you to jump out of the car, roll into the bushes and stay there.”
“Do what?” Her voice was finally getting a panicky edge to it.
“I’ll slow down. There’s a curve up ahead, and we’ll be out of sight for a few moments. You’ll jump out of the car and hide in the woods until I come to get you.”
“And what if it’s not you who finds me?”
“Then I’ll already be dead,” he said. “And you’ll be on your own.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
If he had the time he’d think about the odd tone in her voice, the way it hit his stomach. Maybe later. If there was a later. “You don’t have a choice. If you don’t jump I’m shoving you. Be ready.”
They were almost at the curve. The car was gaining on them, fast, and it was going to be a close call. He rounded the curve, slammed the car into the turnaround, opened the passenger door and got ready to shove.
She was already out, diving into the bushes before he could touch her. He shoved the car into Drive, spinning the wheels as he headed up the winding road, going forward. A moment later the headlights appeared behind him as they rounded the corner, never slowing down. They didn’t realize he’d dumped her.
The day he couldn’t outdrive Russian mercenaries on his own turf was the day he deserved to die. Even in this piece of shit he outclassed them. He shoved his foot down harder on the accelerator, the cheap tires spun, and he was gone, the Russians trailing behind him.
5
Jilly scrambled into the bushes, flinging herself over a slight rise and then sliding down the other side into a narrow depression. She froze, barely breathing, as she heard the cars from up above. If they stopped she was screwed, if they kept going she was safe. Until Reno came and found her.
The sound of the car was heavier than the small car Reno had stolen, and she heard the heavy groan of the engine as it shifted into a lower gear. It sped up, the small amount of light fading, and she was suddenly alone. In a forest in Japan in the middle of winter, with nothing more than a sweatshirt for warmth and thin sneakers on her feet.
She let out her pent-up breath, leaning back against the outcropping behind her, and closed her eyes. He’d come back for her. As soon as he lost the Russians, or whoever they were, he’d come back. He said he would. He might find her a pain in the butt, an inconvenience disturbing his perfect life, but she couldn’t doubt his sense of responsibility. Could she?
At the very least, she had no doubt that Reno’s cousin, Taka, could be a very scary man indeed if crossed, and he wouldn’t like it if Reno abandoned her. All she had to do was wait.
Unless the Russians caught up with him. The stolen car was underpowered, and even if Reno seemed frighteningly efficient, he was hardly immortal. The people of the world her sister married into were living dangerous lives—she’d seen that firsthand. What if Reno wasn’t able to outrun them?
They’d come after her. It was that simple, that finite. If he didn’t lose them, come back for her, then she’d die. All because she’d run off to Japan without thinking it through. She’d just wanted to put the embarrassment of her one lousy night of sex behind her, one stupid mistake with an un-caring jock who looked just the slightest bit like someone who was turning out to be a walking nightmare. She wanted her sister, she wanted to immerse herself in the magic-strewn Heian period of ancient Japan. And she’d wanted to get over any lingering fantasies about Reno, the ultimate bad boy.
She’d accomplished that much, and the unpleasant night with a graduate student should seem more like a comedy than a tragedy. As for the rest of it, she wasn’t ready to die because she’d been impulsive. If she was going to die, she wanted it to mean something.
She opened her eyes. It was cold—the scent of snow was on the air and ice was sinking into her bones. She’d spent most of her life in Southern California—her blood was too thin for winter in the mountains.
Was he coming back for her? What if he didn’t? What if the Russians killed him? Was she going to wait here and let them find her and kill her? Or was she going to sit here and freeze to death?