Snow (8 page)

Mike stared absently at the coffee table without really seeing it as he thought, the photos blurry in his peripheral vision. “The problem there is that a clump of us will stand out. Two vehicles for the seven of us plus Liliana. Three to four rooms, depending on how we organize it, and grouped together it will draw attention. A huge amount of room service, no housekeeping. It wouldn’t take long for someone who knew what he was looking for to find us.”

Belladona drummed her nails on her knee, fidgeted in her seat. “You on your own is suicide, though. Don’t be stupid, Mike.”

“I didn’t say I was
on my own
here.” He looked up at both of them in turn. “We still pool resources on this. Track the Huntsman’s movements. The deaths of multiple police officers should be enough to start a manhunt for him, so send a tip to the local authorities.”

“If the heat’s on, he might skip town without taking out his target.” Belladona sounded doubtful but nodded anyway.

“Right. It’s worth a shot. Benji, go through communications not just by the Hartleys but anyone associated with them. If they were smart, they used a middleman for the hire. It might require some footwork, so that’ll be on you,” he looked at Belladona, “but be careful.”

“The Huntsman’s probably not working cheap, either,” she said. “He tortured and killed four people in two days—he’s probably on the clock. The longer you can keep Liliana hidden, the better.”

Mike nodded. He preferred, personally, to be a bit more proactive and on the offense in a situation like this, but waiting out their opponent might be better.

“Second problem.” Benji nodded at the file.

Right, Mike hadn’t entirely been through it yet. He turned the photos over and set them aside, then looked at the next stack of papers. Beyond the autopsy and police reports from the recent murders, he found surveillance shots of a man identified as Jimmy Hartley dated two days ago.

“That is the last time one James Leonard Hartley was seen,” Benji said. “He’s disappeared.”

Mike looked up sharply. “What?”

“Gone,” Belladona said. “Hasn’t been home, hasn’t been to his mother’s, hasn’t been by any of the family businesses. He’s a ghost. Slipped police surveillance before we got there ourselves. Not at any of his usual haunts. Benji can’t even track him online—we think he dumped his cell phone. His car hasn’t moved from the lot.”

That was not a good sign. Although a contract killer had been sent after Liliana, Mike figured that was the mother’s doing—Jimmy seemed more the type who would
want
to do the dirty work himself. Probably enjoyed the violence.

Now not only did they have a vicious hitman to worry about but this idiot, too.

And the problem was that Mike
couldn’t
entirely dismiss him as an idiot because while he might be brash and not as overtly threatening as the Huntsman, he had something the hitman didn’t.

Jimmy knew Liliana.

He knew the people connected with her. He knew her habits. He knew how she thought. And that made him just as dangerous if not more so.

While part of his mind pondered the implications of Jimmy Hartley on the run, the other part weighed the immediate plans he had. “We’re booked for two more days here but I was planning on moving her today to somewhere else. Reserved our room yesterday, it’s on the other side of the city.”

“But...” Benji filled in, obviously sensing plans had changed.

“But I don’t like being in this area. I know it, but not as well as I do other towns, and there are a lot of variables in the city to be accounted for.”

“Home turf?”

“You’d both stick out more in Midsummer,” Belladona said warily.

“
In
Midsummer, yes. Outside of it, not necessarily.” There were dozens of roadside motels, bed and breakfasts, and other vacation spots that were virtually deserted in winter. Send someone from his team to book the room and sign in, slip him the key so he and Liliana weren’t seen, and stay there. Order food for delivery rather than room service so anyone checking hotels wouldn’t know they were there. They might be able to stay four or five days rather than move after three. It would mean keeping entirely confined to the room the entire time, which would mean possibly securing the room so Liliana definitely couldn’t leave.

He could admit to himself, just barely, that he felt badly at the thought. Her trust in him was already pretty low over the forcible confinement and this would take that to a whole other level. Curtains closed all the time. Windows secured. He might need a second person there after all to watch the door in shifts.

Either that or he’d be chaining her to the bed.

Chair. He’d chain her to a
chair
. Why did his head immediately go to handcuffing her half-naked to a bed?

“Okay.” Mike pulled out his phone to do a quick search of the motels around Midsummer. A bed and breakfast would be nice but there was too great a risk of having a nosy manager and all he needed was for someone to tell a neighbor, who would tell another neighbor, and then God knows who would find out. There were a few possibilities—he skipped the ones that were too near the main roads and found a remote place. Poor quality but, again, he wouldn’t be ordering their food or letting housekeeping in. He and Liliana would have to keep the place clean for a few days themselves. Maybe he’d have someone from his team stock the room with non-perishables as well. “Benji, I’m sending you an address. Book us a room for seven days. Register, sign in, whatever. Stick the no housekeeping sign on the door, leave the place unlocked with the key in the room. We’ll be there by the evening.”

He thought over the supplies he currently had and what else he might need. Cash was fine. He had a pistol in a lockbox in his SUV—

The vehicle. It was also too obvious—it would stand out in the parking lot of a shitty motel in a back road area.

This was getting to be quite the pain in the ass.

“And a car,” he said. “Something maybe six or seven years old. Not traced to the company.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Belladona said.

Mike nodded and pulled out his car keys, which he tossed to her. “Exchange everything in the SUV to the car’s trunk and leave it in my parking spot here.”

“Key in the usual spot, got it. Give me two hours.”

They wouldn’t be leaving until later that evening, so that would be perfect. Very few things in the room left to pack and—

Oh shit.

He scooped up the photos and papers, closed the folder, and kept it in hand as he rose. “Anything else?”

Benji and Belladona exchanged a look. “No,” he said. “Is there a problem?”

Mike grimaced. “Just that, as I said, I left her changed to a shower curtain rod and she’s either screaming by now or has chewed her own arm off.”

Chapter Six

The hotel room was silent as Mike entered, so he was leaning toward “chewed her arm off”.

Of course if that had been the case, he would’ve expected blood, and there was none. Not even the shower ran anymore and there was no screaming, not even as the door clicking shut made it clear he’d returned.

He set the folder on the dresser, shoving its grim contents from his mind, and looked to the bathroom door where the orange light shone beneath, spilling over the carpet.

Shit, shit, shit
. He hadn’t meant to leave her in there, inwardly kicked himself for it. He didn’t want to have the meeting in her presence but should’ve simply delayed her shower when he had no idea how long he’d be down there. It wasn’t like him to slip up like that.

He twisted the bathroom doorknob slowly and eased the door open. “Liliana?”

Warmth and steam billowed out, slicking his skin. Silence, or at least mostly. Just the crinkle of the shower curtain. The ring of metal against metal, likely the cuff of the rod.

And the slightest sniffle that suggested she’d been crying.

Guilt rushed through him but he cleared his throat, tried not to let it show as he pushed the door open fully and stepped in the room. Immediately he glimpsed her face in the mirror where she peered around the shower curtain. Her eyes were red-rimmed and angry, mouth set in a straight line.

“I’m sorry,” he said swiftly, reaching for the key in his pocket.

Her glare was almost enough to stop him in his tracks and he’d received his fair share of scowls in a variety of circumstances. This was probably the first time an attractive naked woman in a shower with one arm handcuffed over her head looked ready to murder him with whatever she could reach, however.

He reached for the cuff on the shower curtain rod and gave the key a twist in the lock. The bracelet popped open and swung down. Her arm immediately dropped as if she couldn’t hold hit up any longer, and given that she’d been in the position for nearly thirty minutes, he figured that was accurate. She stumbled back out of view, the sound of her skin hitting the porcelain wall filling the space.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, tone genuinely conciliatory. He should probably just leave her but would feel better after ensuring she got out of the shower safely after being left standing for so long. He grasped a towel from the shelf above the toilet and let the thick terrycloth unfurl, and then passed it to her around the shower curtain.

She grasped it with her non-cuffed hand and jerked it out of sight. “You
left me
here.”

“I didn’t expect to be gone so long.”

Liliana snorted and muttered something he couldn’t make out, then the shower curtain pulled back. “Move. Please.”

He stepped aside.

She started forward, trying to grip the towel at her chest. Got one foot over the side of the bathtub and wobbled, her shoulder striking the tile as she fell.

Mike had darted to her side and grabbed her without thought—one second she was slipping, the next she was staring up at him with still angry eyes. His arm was around her lower back, steadying her, the water still clinging to her skin and dripping from her thick dark hair to soak the sleeve of his shirt. The heat from her body, from the confined room, warmed him, and the scent of coconut oil drifted up from her hair.

“Let me help you,” he said gently.

She probably wanted to argue—her lips even twitched as if she was about to. But instead she said nothing, just glanced away and made no move to push him aside. Mike eased her forward, supporting her while she stepped her other foot over the tub’s side. Her left arm dangled at her side, the open cuff swinging from the chain.

The towel wrapped around her was unsecure and about to slip, likely difficult to tuck in place using just the one hand with the other attached to a sore arm. When she was steady on her feet, he reached for the towel and slid it with care, watching he didn’t let it fly open as he better secured it under her arms.

It was maddening, this proximity to her. The way goose bumps rose and spread across her upper chest under his touch, the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath. He tucked a corner of the towel in place, tried not to let his hands linger, hoped she didn’t see the slight tremble in his fingertips. His control was wound very, very tightly, and he felt it coiled in him ready to pop at the slightest provocation.

And that was
not
going to happen. Not ever. Not even when her nearness or the scent of her freshly washed skin stirred his arousal—not even when his gaze zeroed in on her plump lips as they pursed and he wanted desperately to kiss her, to sink his tongue into her mouth and taste her at last, to pull the towel away and—

Jesus Christ, man. Get. A. Hold. Of. Yourself.

Mike stepped back, keeping a hand on her free arm.

She still glared at him and pulled out of his grip. “You left me in here.” Her movements were stiff as she walked past him, and she didn’t bother with her pile of clothes on the floor as she exited the bathroom for the main hotel room.

He checked the time on his phone before following. He was glad he hadn’t planned to leave for a few hours yet to give Belladona time to get the new vehicle, as there was no way he’d coax Liliana in a car with him at the moment, whether she was handcuffed to him or not. If they left by late afternoon or early evening, they’d end up at the motel after dark, which would mean navigating difficult driving conditions but fewer people to notice them when they reached their new room.

Mike followed after Liliana and found her sitting on the edge of the bed by the window. She hadn’t bothered with her duffel bag yet, just sat and rubbed at her arm that had been hanging.

“What the fuck would happen if someone came after me while you were gone and I was cuffed in the goddamn shower?” she snapped. Her breaths heaved, voiced rising with each word. “And don’t give me this bullshit about how it’s my fault because you can’t trust me—you can’t just leave me tied up like that! If someone came here, found me...I couldn’t run! I couldn’t fight back! I couldn’t...” The tears built in her eyes again and she blinked furiously against them.

She didn’t want him to see her cry—he could tell without her saying anything.

Still, as much as he knew she was right, the urge to argue with her rose—to drive home precisely how serious this was. He spun, grasped the folder on the dresser, and tossed it on the bed. The photos spilled out, fanning across the bedspread, glossy gore against the hotel flower pattern.

Liliana stared down at them, reaching gingerly to open the folder entirely and run her fingers over the crime scene photos. “I know him,” she whispered.

Mike leaned over the bed, yanking the photos from the pile to spread them out—all two dozen of them. “And him. And him. And
him.
This isn’t just about Jimmy anymore, Liliana. The Hartleys have hired a contract killer. The Huntsman. And he is hunting
you
. He tracked down all these men. He tortured them. Killed them. To find
you
.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, shoulders slumping. Tears dusted her long dark lashes, rolled down her cheeks.

He hesitated, wondering if he’d gone too far—hating himself a little. He felt like he should be shielding her entirely, hiding her not just from those who were after her but the ugliness connected to her that they committed as well.