Fire & Ice Read Online Free PDF

for the last two years—there was no reason things were going to be any different. Especially now that she was all grown up.
    He turned right, heading away from his grandfather's compound. He needed to dump the Harley—it was too conspicuous. He needed to find a salaryman's car, something cheap and practical and anonymous.
    The very thought made him shudder. Maybe being conspicuous was the safest way to play. There'd be too many people watching for anyone to try a snatch and grab with his passenger.
    Or was she his hostage? He wasn't quite sure.
    In the meantime, he needed someplace safe and anonymous to spend what little was left of the night. There were traditional inns to the north—they would be off the grid and no one using modem technology would be able to find them.
    And a ryokan was a definite buzz kill, with thin futons on the floor rather than a hotel room with a big, inviting bed to tempt him. It was the smartest thing to do. Too bad he didn't feel like being smart. He'd do it anyway.
    He was coming down from the adrenaline rush. He didn't want to think about what he'd had to do back at Taka's house. It was a waste of time brooding about it. They were professionals, and he'd had no choice. Right now he was dead tired, and she must be just as jet-lagged as he was. They needed someplace safe so he could get a few hours' sleep. And figure out what his next move was.
    * * *
    Jilly was beyond cold, beyond feeling as she clung to the only thing safe in a crazy world. She put her head against his black leather jacket, closing her eyes, breathing in the smell of the night.
    She had no sense of time or space—it felt as if she were riding a dragon, clinging to the only thing solid and safe. A man who had just killed three people and didn't seem to notice.
    Summer had never given her more than a brief outline of what happened when she first met Takashi O'Brien. People had died. People had shot at her while she escaped with Isobel Lambert.
    But she'd never actually seen death. Never had to wrap her arms around someone who'd just dealt it.
    She turned her face to breathe in the smell of leather. It was oddly comforting. She didn't know how long she been riding on the back of the motorcycle—it could have been one hour or five. Her body ached, her arms and her thighs were numb and she wanted him to stop this mad, hurtling pace and rest. She wanted to ride forever on the back of the dragon.
    When he finally stopped, she almost fell—he caught her easily enough, with cool impersonal hands.
    The street was dark, the building in front of them darker still. A row of small flags draped the entrance to the house, but she was in no shape to figure what they meant.
    “Come on,” he said, impatient, as she stared up at the building.
    “Where are we?” She didn't recognize her own voice—it sounded as if she'd been screaming and she'd hardly said a word. She must be in shock, she thought.
    A ryokcm” He clearly wasn't about to explain further. And part of her was willing just to follow him, mindlessly.
    She pulled herself together. “Why? Why here?”
    “The people looking for us would track us down if we went to one of the big Western-style hotels. We can spend the rest of the night here, sleep and figure out what the fuck we're going to do.”
    “We?” she echoed.
    “If they don't know I took care of the men in Taka's house, it won't take them long to find out. I don't think they're going to bother with revenge—mercenaries are too practical to kill for anything other than profit, and their paycheck has dried up. Once they realize there's nothing to be gained, they'll leave Japan and we'll be safe.” He tried to take her arm, but she yanked free.
    “I'm not going anywhere until you explain what the hell is going on. Who are these Russians? Why would they want to kill Taka? And who's paying them?” Her voice was stronger now, and she looked into his eyes, meeting his cool, assessing gaze head-on.
    “I'm not going to