Snow (11 page)

That only emboldened her further—she slid her hand past her panties to sink her fingers into the slippery, eager heat at the apex of her thighs, and let out a long groan. The handcuff forced his hand closer to her, the back of his knuckles brushing her bare thigh.

He took in a sharp breath—she swore she heard him—but still outwardly showed no sign that he paid any attention to her at all.

Her hips were rocking off the bed now, fingers gliding up and down her folds. If only he’d touch her—just drop the book and roll over, push her hand aside and sink his fingers into her pussy. His mouth would find hers, the kiss would be slow but firm, taking over her completely. If she closed her eyes, she could picture it perfectly, imagine his body heavy against hers, his cock hard and eager as it pressed into her hip.

But she didn’t want to close her eyes—didn’t want to stop watching him
not
watch her. The air between them crackled with tension, an electric charge she could feel right in her veins. She continued rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, imagined how much firmer he’d be, just the right amount of roughness that would drive her wild. Her fingers moved swiftly against her pussy, running up to swirl about her clit and then down again. God she wanted to feel him inside her, driving in and out, his thickness stretching her with every delicious thrust.

Climax came for her swiftly, waves of pleasure building and building. She panted, arched her back, openly watching him now, her eyes practically begging him to stare back at her. Her focus narrowed onto the brief bit of contact, the back of his hand sliding across her thigh with her own movements. When the dam broke at last, she cried out and came hard, her back bowing.

The orgasm subsided and Liliana slumped, licking her dry lips and blinking as her mind returned to her.

O’Hara still hadn’t moved.

She expected sanity to return to her as well, for her to inwardly kick herself for that display, but it never came. Instead she was wryly amused that he remained so stoic, so unaffected by an attractive woman masturbating three inches away from him while porn played in the background.

Liliana rolled onto her side to face him, her head sinking into the pillow. She could probably slip into a nap easily but instead she focused on O’Hara, deciding to poke him a little. “You know, if you need a little release yourself, I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine.” His voice was clear and smooth. Still apparently unaffected.

She looked pointedly along his body, skimming his torso to his groin, which was shadowed by his knees being drawn up. He hadn’t moved a muscle—maybe if he did, she’d find him hard.

“So do you have a girlfriend?” She dragged her fingers idly up his arm that lay between them, brushing the back of his hand which had been against her thigh just moments ago. “Wife?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend? Husband?”

“Not gay.”

“Want to order a hooker?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response.

“I was just thinking, this is probably getting pretty dull for you. If
you
want to sneak out and get some, I don’t mind. I’ll remain chained up in here waiting for you, if you want.”

“No thanks.”

“It could be weeks that you’re stuck here, locked up”—she lifted her wrist and his with it—“with just me.”

“I’m
fine
.”

“Is this celibacy by choice or is there something wrong with you? Weird kinks and fetishes? Tragic past?”

“I’m just content to spend my time reading.”

No matter how she baited him, he didn’t take a bite. “It’s too bad. We could hit a bar. Maybe each pick up someone to play with for a night. Not really a foursome, not if we kept things separate, but still it’s an option.”

“I don’t fuck random women.”

She blinked at him, not expecting
that
. “Why not?”

“Just not an interest of mine.”

Her cheeks heated but she continued to stare up at him. “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

“I don’t fuck women I don’t care about. An old fashioned position, maybe, but it’s the truth.”

Hmm. Maybe he
did
have something wrong with him. Or some tragic past. A dead wife. Murdered girlfriend. A woman he protected but who died anyway. Some story worthy of a big Hollywood movie. A movie she’d never be in.

Liliana yawned, her eyelids heavy as she blinked sleepily. “So why do you hate
The Bodyguard
?”

“I prefer happily ever afters.”

She chuckled. He didn’t. Huh, she suspected he might be serious.

“I think I’ll nap,” she said. The moans on the TV drew her attention again, and she fumbled behind her for the remote controller. Once she grasped it, she left it with him. “There, if you want to change the channel. Or find a porno more to your liking.”

Without looking at her, he lifted the remote and shut the television off.

Liliana shut her eyes, relaxed at last. “Glad you’re fine with everything. Oh, and O’Hara?”

“What.”

“You’ve been on that page for ten minutes straight. I didn’t think you were that slow of a reader.”

Liliana grinned and rolled over before she drifted into a pleasant nap.

****

Mike was seriously rethinking the handcuffing situation.

She might run if he unlocked them. And steal the car. And leave him screwed and unable to follow. It would be very unfortunate.

But the throbbing in his cock made him tempted to risk it.

Every ounce of self-control he had—and some he
didn’t
know he had—was wound tight and focused on keeping him from reaching for her. She seemed to be making it intentionally difficult for him, and not just when she openly touched herself beside him, as if daring him to join her. It was the little glances, the teasing smile, the swing of her hips when he unlatched the cuffs throughout the day so she could head to the washroom, the nearness of her when she leaned across him to pour a drink as they stood near the coffeemaker.

The night passed and he barely slept; even when his eyes were closed, he could picture her there beside him, aware of her even breaths, the slight murmur she made while dreaming when she finally slept herself. He didn’t allow himself a moment to look at her, to lean over and breathe in her scent, or anything else that might tempt him.

The only way to survive Liliana White was to keep as far from her as he conceivably could—despite being handcuffed to her—and to not allow himself any indulgence.

He strongly suspected she was on to him but thankfully didn’t push any harder than she already had.

The next day passed with her making a few suggestions to have someone deliver a gaming console or at least checkers so they’d have something more to do, then growing silent when he handed off the book he’d finished so she could read that while he picked another. After picking at the food supplies Gina had brought throughout the day, they opted for a hot dinner and he called for Chinese.

After eating, Mike pulled the key from his pocket, intending to unlock the cuffs.

“Oooh, do I get to be a free-range witness for a few minutes?” She batted her eyelashes at him dramatically.

“I’m just going for some fresh air.”

She glanced at the door and he hesitated unlocking the cuff, wondering if it might be better not to. It might be her excuse to take off.

“I’ve been cooped up here all day. Well, like three now. Can I come?”

He set the key down and nodded instead.

They rose together, each shoved their feet into a pair of shoes, and Mike unlocked the door. No sign of anyone outside—the parking lot was silent and snowy.

“I’m making a call to a member of my team,” he said as he pulled out his phone.

She nodded and stood next to him, letting out a long sigh. Despite the cold bringing a burst of goose bumps to her bare arms, she grinned up at him, like she was pleased to be out there.

Maybe if the next few days were okay, they could take a few walks. There were woods around the motel, void of people and safe to be out in. He’d see how it went.

Reception wasn’t great in the area but his phone had two bars, at least, and despite some static on the line, Benji picked up a few rings in.

“Any news yet?” he asked immediately.

“Belle might have a lead on Hartley,” Benji said. “Kristof’s on it too. They’re tracking his mother’s accounts—she wired some money to someone last night and we’re not sure who, but it seems likely it’s someone who will pass the money to him.”

Unless it was to the Huntsman, like she was paying expenses. Maybe he got a daily fee. But Mike shoved that thought from his mind. Benji wasn’t stupid and if it was money going toward the contract killer, it would be a significant enough of an amount to raise even more red flags. Like it was a thousand or two, cash someone would give Jimmy to keep him going while he was out of touch and unable to go near his own accounts.

Mike moved from foot to foot, shivering. Liliana did as well but seemed far less bothered by it than he was. Snow fell steadily, the car in front of their room piled with a good four inches now. Flakes clung to her hair, her lashes. She was still grinning and for a moment he nearly lost himself gazing at her as she stared up at the sky, breathing in deeply.

The night outside was silent and still, no other cars driving past and no one else in the lot.

“How are things there?” Benji asked cautiously. “Still driving you nuts?”

Mike glanced away from Liliana.
In a manner of speaking
. “It’s fine. I’ll arrange for some more supplies in a few days.” His gaze narrowed on the car again and he shifted to the right, glancing over the snow piled up around the tires. Someone had walked by it recently—not within the last few hours, no, but at some point during the day. Snow had covered the tracks but enough of the dips in the drifts remained for him to be certain.

His eyes tracked across the parking lot. The place delivering Chinese had parked two spots over. He easily saw the footprints and tire tracks there. The delivery guy hadn’t gone near his car.

“So you’re staying at that location a bit longer?” Benji asked.

His stomach turned. Something wasn’t right.

“Mike?”

Mike stepped forward cautiously.

“O’Hara?” Liliana asked at his side. “What is it?”

He said nothing to either of them, not Benji on the phone or her at his side, just continued toward the car. The faint steps stopped near the front wheel, didn’t go past it toward the room. Might’ve just been the manager checking out the vehicle. Might’ve been someone checking to see if he’d left the keys in the car.

He scanned the car door, the handle. No sign anyone had touched anything.

“O’Hara?” Liliana’s voice had taken on a fearful edge.

He should reassure her. Just head back inside, tell her it’s nothing, that he was just being paranoid.

But his gut said something was wrong here.

Mike knelt in the snow, which forced her down with him, and peered beneath the car.

A red light flickered against the white snow under the vehicle.

Shit
.

“We’re compromised,” he said into the phone and hung up immediately, stuffed his cell in his pocket as he rose and pushed Liliana toward the motel. “Inside,
now
.”

“What’s—”

“Now, Liliana,
move
.”

She did, at least, rushing ahead of him without asking more questions. He pushed her inside, slammed the door shut behind him, and snapped both the deadbolt and chain lock closed, though fuck all it would do for them.

He didn’t give the room so much as a glance, instead moving for the small locked box under the bed. The combination lock spun beneath his fingertips and a moment later the lid popped open.

Liliana was trembling beside him, her hands grasping his arm. “What the hell is going on?”

Mike turned back to her as he withdrew the pistol from the box. “There’s a bomb under the car.”

Chapter Nine

Liliana blinked up at him. “A bomb?”

“A bomb.” He brushed past her toward the window. The curtains were drawn still, had been since they first came. He pushed them aside and peered into the parking lot.

Her gaze went from him to the gun. “A bomb.”

“There’s someone out there. Don’t freeze up on me, keep focused—”

The lock on the door exploded, bullet punching through the deadbolt and spitting wood splinters and metal shavings on the floor.

Son of a
— Mike grasped her arm, pulled her in the direction of the bathroom. Past the bed, the supplies stacked to the side—all they had was some food here, they were in no way prepared for a siege.

“Lock the door,” he said when they were in the bathroom, and she did so without question, though they both likely knew it would do nothing to keep anyone out if they wanted it. Mike scanned the bathroom, went for the rod holding the shower curtain. It wasn’t sturdy like in a better hotel room, and a firm pull jerked the tension rod out of place.

The shower curtain crackled under their feet as they shifted around. Mike wedged the rod between the toilet and the door—it wasn’t much but might buy them a few seconds.

“So now we’re trapped,” Liliana whispered.

At least she wasn’t in a pile sobbing on the floor but right now shock was setting in. He had to keep her moving, had to keep them
both
moving.

He pulled a towel from behind the door and stepped over the edge of the bathtub toward the window. “Help hold this in place.”

She did so—didn’t have much of a choice with their wrists chained together still, he knew, but at least she didn’t freeze up on him. They held the towel over most of the window, her pinning it in place.

“The window’s not big enough,” she warned.

It was, he’d measured when they first arrived. Mike slammed the butt of the gun against the towel-covered glass pane until he heard it crack, then double checked the safety was on the gun and wedged the weapon in his waistband against his back. Should’ve grabbed the holster but it would have to do.

He used the towel to clear out the glass—if the Huntsman was in the next room, and by now he likely
was
, he’d hear that.