Chilled by Death (24 page)

With a shrug, he said. “Could be either.”

Now it was her turn to look around the area to make sure they were alone. But she was hoping the police were driving up to ask more questions. Instead, the snowy area was calm, the air still. Nothing moved but the two of them. “We need to get this to the police.”

“I know. I wasn’t so sure I should let the others know what I found.”

“Thank you for that.” She smiled wryly. “And for trusting that I’m not the bad guy here.”

“I never suspected you,” he said. “It’s not your way.”

“Really? You don’t think I could freeze someone to death?” she joked. “Look, he’s even making it easy on them by drugging them first.”

That gaze latched onto her face and narrowed. “Put that way, I wonder if that was the end that he hoped for the rest of us.”

“On average, most poisoners are women.”

“But we weren’t poisoned,” he said. “We were drugged.”

“And for some people, there is no difference.”

He looked at her. “So do we have a woman then? Are we back to thinking it was Yvonne?”

“No.” Stacy stared down at the cabin. “I actually don’t.”

“Why is that?”

Yeah, why did she think that? She studied the cabin, thinking about the sequence of events even as she tucked the small bag into her coat pocket. “I don’t think she’d have left her gear behind like that. I can’t see a motive for turning on everyone just because she was upset at you.”

He protested. “She wasn’t upset.”

“Maybe she just didn’t show it.”

His hand whipped up and ran through his hair in a gesture she was starting to recognize as his instinctive reaction to stressful news. “She wasn’t upset,” he reiterated. “I do understand women, and she was not coming on to me seriously and she was not feeling rejected.”

“On the off chance you are correct, what do you think happened to her?”

He glared at her. “I am correct.”

After studying the look in his eyes for a long moment and wondering how any woman could not feel affected by a brush off from him, Stacy willed it to the back of her mind and shifted her gaze away. “Fine. That doesn’t change the fact that she is missing.”

He took a step forward and grasped her face between his hands. “I need you to trust me.”

Her gaze locked into his. Searching. “I never said I didn’t.”

“No, you haven’t.” He stared at the sky over her head as if wrestling with something. “But I don’t hear that you do either.”

That magnetic gaze of his locked onto hers again, willing her to give him what he wanted. Needed. She wanted to pull away but somehow found it impossible to break the hold he had on her. “I do trust you.”

“Do you? You’re out here in the woods with me, but do you trust that I wasn’t the one to tamper with the wine? I had the opportunity. You did too. I trust you. But if I did it, of course I would. And you’d never know.”

There was something hard in his voice. Almost mean. As if she’d done something to piss him off. Instead of making her nervous by his harshness or the tension in his hand, anger soared. She leaned forward and glared at him. “I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t trust you.”

The light in his eyes deepened. In a surprise move, he lowered his head and blocked the bright sun from her eyes. The cool touch of his lips surprised her. But the banked heat didn’t. It had always been there. Barely leashed, sitting just under the surface. Waiting to ignite. She shivered. Her body remembered the touch of his hands, the tone of his muscles. The warmth of his breath.

He deepened his kiss, heat flaring between them as he bent her over his arm. Her arms clutched him tightly as her world spun inside and out. She moaned deep in the back of her throat.

Suddenly she was back on her feet and set apart from him. She struggled to keep her balance in the world suddenly gone awry. She gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry,” he finally got out, his chest heaving, his breathing raspy and deep. He rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She blinked, struggling to adjust to the sudden change in his manner. She’d have done a lot for him to grab her and kiss her again, but…he looked guilty. Why? “Why did you, then?” she asked in what she thought was a reasonable voice.

“Because I wanted to, damn it.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh for God’s sake. You know how I feel about you.” He threw up his hands and turned away.

It was hard to know what to say. She decided the truth might be the best way forward. “I don’t know how you feel about me.”

He spun and glared. “Bullshit. Of course you do. Hell, everyone does.”

“I’d heard something from a couple of people, but more of a joke—”

“It is a big joke to them. They all know.”

“Know what?” she asked, her voice steady, her gaze direct, questioning. She had to know. Had to get to the root of this. It was too important to just gloss over.

He snorted, then threw up his hands again and turned to glare at her. “Never mind.” He motioned to the gorgeous scenery around them. “Take your damn pictures. I’ll stand guard.”

Shit. She wanted to push the issue. Get him to open up and say exactly what he wanted from her. But a tiny part of her didn’t really want to know. She’d kept him out of her life by pushing him away and slamming the door between them closed.

Because she didn’t want to open it.

Hadn’t wanted to open it.

Keeping it closed had been easier.

And slamming him for his behavior had given her righteous logic for keeping the door closed. Excuses to not let him into her heart.

Because he’d break it.

And she was so weak she didn’t want to be hurt again. So she kept the door closed.

She was a coward.

*

Really? They were
standing on the hillside in a lover’s clinch. For everyone to see. As if they were a couple. As if they had a right to such a relationship. Bull. They had the right to nothing.

Sunshine shone down on them like a lover’s kiss, and he hated it.

She was not for him. He was not for her. Neither should be allowed to live. That was obscene. Royce went with anyone. He was a rabid dog in heat. Everyone knew that. But even that bastard should have standards. Obviously he didn’t.

Disgusting.

And out in the open like that.

Oh wait, what’s this? Trouble in paradise. He watched as the two separated, as if Royce flung her away.

“Good boy, Royce. I knew you had more sense than that.” He chuckled at the temper showing in the line of Royce’s shoulders and back as he faced the cabin. Stacy stood behind him, her hand out toward him.

And Royce ignored her. Good. He couldn’t see them clear enough to see the expressions on their faces or hear the words exchanged, but he could see their silhouettes and that was enough. For the moment, that was enough.

This might be a winter paradise setting here, but there was no paradise on this mountain today. This week. This lifetime. At least not for them.

Only for him.

*

Royce refused to
turn around. He locked down the emotions he’d stuffed inside a long time ago. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Not because of her, but because of him. The taste of such sweet honey, a passion so thick and wild – once tasted, it was hard to forget, and having stirred it all up again would make it that much harder to stomp back inside again.

Bitterness clawed at his throat. He didn’t know if he wanted to beat her or make love to her until they were both stupid.

Of course he knew which he wanted but as he knew it wasn’t going to happen, there was no point in wishing that things were different.

He’d tried so damn hard to be there for her. Now look – it was all gone again. Resolve stretched inside him. He needed to turn a new leaf after this nightmare. He needed to walk away forever. Be friends with her, sure, because he wasn’t going to lose his best friend, George. But it was time to grow up. Realize some dreams were hang ups from previous days. Previous years. Previous lives.

No, it was time to move on.

And leave her behind.

He took a deep breath, feeling better as the cool air hit his lungs.

Bullshit. He felt worse. Fresh air wasn’t going to make any difference in his life. There was only one thing that would.

And that wasn’t going to happen.

Then he felt a hand slide into his and lace their fingers together.

His resolve, his anger, his bitterness dissolved in an instant, and he knew he could no more walk away from her than he could walk away from his heart.

It was impossible.

They were the same.

S
tacy stared down
at her hand. Had it actually crept out and done what she thought it might have done? Betrayed her? His hands squeezed over hers so tightly she thought he’d surely break something. But it didn’t hurt. Instead, it was as if by that very pressure, something inside of her was building, an inner tension that needed him to squeeze harder and harder. Maybe finally breaking through the barriers she’d erected against him so long ago. Against the world so long ago. Against fate so long ago.

He turned slowly, and she almost gasped at the pain in his gaze as he studied her. His eyes open, full of hope and yet expecting so much less.

Damn, she was a fool. And a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shuttered his gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. He nodded. “Not to worry. I’m a big boy.”

He went to drop her hand, but she hung on.

“No,” she cried. “You don’t understand.”

He stilled then slowly turned back to face her. “What don’t I understand?”

“Why I’m sorry.”

A light opened in his gaze, letting her see inside for the first time. Not too far in. But maybe enough.

She dropped her gaze. “It was hard for me. That weekend. I was desperate to know there was a purpose to living. To have a reason to get up every day. When I lost my friends, well, my world collapsed. When I lost them, I was like a ship that had run aground. No way to float away.”

She shivered against the chill inside.

“Nothing to do but be beaten by the times of change, and I felt like I couldn’t move. When I saw you that weekend, something clicked. I needed to be held. Needed to be connected at least in some way to someone else. To the rest of the world.” She stopped, unsure of what to say next and a little embarrassed by the outpouring already. But she needed to get it all out. “I was looking to find a purpose to continue with life. I wasn’t suicidal – I didn’t feel anything.” She gave a small, deprecating movement. “I don’t mean to make so much about it, but I thought if you understood how I felt, maybe you’d understand my reaction.”

When she didn’t continue for a long moment, he nudged her gently.

“And your reaction afterward?” he asked cautiously. “I do understand your reasons for that weekend. We’ve all had that need to be close to someone. But afterward…” Sadness once again glanced off his voice. “What was that all about?”

Instinctively she tried to pull her hand away, only he held her fast, letting her know he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

She opened her mouth then closed it. He narrowed his gaze at her. She gave him a lopsided smile and the truth. “I was scared.”