The Hunt for Snow (5 page)

My heart pounded with fear and indecision. I didn’t want to shoot him. He took a step in my direction, then one more. I raised the gun at his chest level. “Don’t make me do this, Max.”

A flicker of indecision crossed his face. He blinked, the redness gone temporarily. His body shook with effort. “I cannot help it,” he said through clenched teeth.

I took the opportunity of his coherence to step around and behind him and slap my palm on the button again. He stood stock-still, allowing me to do so, and shuddered again. I had maybe seconds before Naomi’s influence took over again. So I did the only thing I could have done to ensure my safety. I raised my hand up as high as it could go and cold-cocked him in the back of the head with my gun.

Max fell like a stone, and I took a deep, shaky breath. That had been way too close.

I watched him for any movement and then leaned down closer to make sure he was breathing, although I knew it would probably take much more than a blow to the back of his head to take him down, especially when Naomi was amping up his natural power. His breath was shallow, but there.

“Good,” I muttered, tucking the gun back into my waistband, and straightened to await the opening of the elevator doors. When the glorious ding of the elevator finally came I exhaled with effort, stepped over Max’s body and almost ran right into Giles, our old family butler.

One silver eyebrow rose as he took in my disheveled state and the unconscious Huntsman at my feet. “Well,” he said dryly, “at least you didn’t shoot anyone this time.”

I heard the elevator doors close behind me as I gave Giles a shaky smile. “He started it,” I said. It was something I always said when I found myself in trouble with him. His good nature had saved me from some spankings when I was little, especially when Mother came around and would want to know why I was scratched and dirty. Usually it involved me getting into a scrape of some sort with a village boy, but nine times out of ten Giles would cluck his tongue and tell her I’d been playing in the barn again and fell or I was chasing chickens through the courtyard. Of course, I was always doing that, too, but I never managed to come home quite as dirty or disheveled as I did when I’d been beating up one of the villagers. If Mother didn’t believe him, she never let on. Instead, she’d give me one long, stern look, or if she was in a good mood, she’d wink and tell me to get cleaned up for spinning time. I always hated learning those princess lame crafts, but I always enjoyed spending the time with my mother.

My lower lip trembled, and Giles held out his arms. “Come here, sweetkin.”

I allowed myself to be wrapped in Giles’ strong arms, and inhaled his comfortable gingerbread scent. “He really did start it,” I mumbled against the soft cotton of his vest. He patted my back and chuckled.

“They always do, don’t they, Snow?” He squeezed me for good measure and set me away from him. Giles stared at me with a critical eye, taking in my worn jeans, soft blouse and pageboy haircut. He nodded once. “You’re just as beautiful as always. Although, you could do with some more hair, couldn’t you?”

I frowned at him and awkwardly patted my hair. “Hair is a weapon,” I said. “If it’s short, no one can grab hold of it and use it as a weapon.”

He gestured at me to walk with him. “Be that as it may, it also prevents you from finding a proper husband.”

My thoughts flicked back to Max. He was no proper husband, but he sure would be a fun distraction until someone proper came around. Giles cleared his throat, and I blushed at my train of thought.

“Did you hear me?” he asked, giving me a quizzical stare.

“Uh, no. What was that?” I gave him a bright smile and slapped an innocent expression on my face. “Sorry, preoccupied brain, and then that whole thing in the elevator wore me out a bit.”

He didn’t believe me. I could tell. “I asked if you brought a ball gown.”

I nodded. “Cinderella picked it out.”

His face brightened. “Ah, Cyndi. How does she fare?” He took my elbow and steered me down the hall.

“She fares well. She’s downstairs right now. I can bring her up later, if you wish. Belle is here, too.”

“Delightful!” He fumbled for his key, slid it into the lock and opened the door into a large suite.

“Damn, Giles. Moving on up, aren’t you?” I stepped in ahead of him and cased the room. Even though it was Giles, I still wasn’t feeling all that trusting today. Whoever put him up here must have spent a fortune. My footsteps stilled and I spun toward him. “Who are you working for these days?” I asked, hoping against all hope I was wrong.

The smell of lilacs greeted me, along with the voice I heard often in my nightmares. “Giles serves me now, darling Snow White. Aren’t you a sight to behold?”

My mouth dried out and terror seeped through my body. I schooled my features into a perfectly blank expression. Naomi stood, regal and proud, in the living room of the suite. Gone was her normal red ball gown evil queen attire. Today she’d settled for a red power suit and stiletto nude heels. I hated the fact that she was a redhead and could actually wear red. It was against the laws of nature…or at least the laws of the color wheel. Her hair streamed down her shoulders in long vibrant curls. She looked gorgeous.

And every bit as evil as I remembered. I glanced at Giles, who shifted uncomfortably. At my accusing stare, he met my gaze with no apology, just regret. I couldn’t be mad at him. Where else was he to go? My mother died, then my father, and, I, the only rightful heir was chased out of the realm. Giles had no choice but to stay. It was and was not my fault. But I couldn’t blame him. Life went on, with or without me.

Knowing Giles, though, working for her rankled him right down to the edges of the starchy white shirt he wore underneath that ever-present vest of his. I blanked my thoughts because I never knew what kind of tricks she had up her sleeve and pasted a polite smile on my face. “Hello, Naomi.”

She blinked. A small motion, but one that gave me immense satisfaction. Back home, Naomi insisted I call her Mother. Even though saying it made bile rise in my stomach, I acquiesced to her wishes to keep peace in the castle and to keep my father happy. When he died, and I tried to call her Naomi, it resulted in beatings. But I was no longer a scared child or a weak teenager. I was a full-grown woman and stronger than ever.

“Really, darling. Naomi? Since when did you get comfortable with being that familiar with me?”

I bared my teeth. “Since you had your henchman try to murder me. I say that puts us on a first name basis, don’t you?”

She came a little closer to me. “I am your mother. And mothers have to make hard choices to benefit all instead of just one.”

I scoffed. “What threat was I, Naomi?” I drawled out her name with rancor.

“Do you really have to ask that question? You were the heir to the throne. To my kingdom. Getting rid of you was the only way to clear that path.” She studied a shellacked red nail. “But, unfortunately, my Huntsman failed.” She stared at me, secrets swirling in the vivid black depths of her eyes. “I underestimated the power a pretty face would have over him.”

I stilled, said nothing, hoping she would keep talking. Bad guys were always good about spilling their secrets when they thought they had a captive audience.

“But now,” she continued, “we’re here to finish what I started.”

I knew it. The Accords meant nothing to Naomi. She was willing to start war over one girl. Admittedly, one who had the potential to screw up her plans in a huge way, but still just a girl. “And the Accords?” I asked, already knowing her answer.

A brilliant smile split her face. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the Accords, Snow. You and I will have our day.” She turned to Giles. “The Huntsman is due back from lunch. Can you fetch him?”

Giles’ face became a blank slate. I waited for a moment to see if he would betray me. We both knew the only lunch the Huntsman had was the dirt on the elevator floor when he face-planted into it. I fought to keep the smile off my face. “At once,” Giles said. “Is he in the hotel restaurant?”

Naomi gave him a dismissive nod, and Giles walked past me on his way out. Once his back was turned to her, he gave me a little wink and swept out the door. My lips twitched, but I was able to fight the grin that threatened to spread over my face. So, I could count on one dissenter in Naomi’s court.

It was just her and me in the room now. “Is there anything else you wanted?” I put my hands on my hips in a bored gesture, praying she couldn’t see the fluttering heartbeat I could feel pulsing in my throat. “If not, I’d like to leave. I mean, you have the entire rest of the week to throw idle threats at me.”

She laughed. “Rest assured. My threats are much more than idle.”

I nodded. “We’ll see,” I said, and turned to walk out of her suite.

“Snow,” she called. “Just for the record, I know the feelings my Huntsman has for you. If you were as pure as everyone says you are, you’d leave him alone. Every time he gets around you, it only makes my compulsion to kill you stronger.” Her mocking laughter followed me for too long down the hallway.

By the time I made it back to my room, Cyndi and Belle were already there and frantic with worry. I waved off their concerns, kicked off my shoes and padded over to the balcony. We still had a couple of hours until the mixer.

They followed me outside and we sat on the dusty outdoor furniture staring at the idyllic scenery outside. I stayed silent for a few moments, pretending I didn’t see their curious stares.

“I saw Naomi today,” I finally said.

Cyndi inhaled a great gulp of air and started coughing. Belle sat there, unsurprised. She nodded. “It was bound to happen,” she said matter-of-fact. “But you’re here in one piece, so it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Depends on her version of not that bad. Being within twenty feet of that woman was enough to ruin my day. “Giles is working for her.” I skimmed over the incident in the elevator, not wanting my friends to know just how much I wanted Max or just how much he seemed to both want my body and to stab me. It was romantic in a horror movie sort of way. Like a bad case of Stockholm syndrome or something. I never did anything easy, that was for sure.

Cyndi brought up the Accords. I shook my head. “She doesn’t care about them, just like I suspected. Naomi is here for revenge.” I looked back inside our room, feeling suddenly like a sardine smashed inside of a can. Easy pickings. I should have brought more guns.

Belle brushed an errant strand of hair from her face and pushed her glasses up in that geeky, endearing habit of hers. “I have an idea,” she said and leaped up from her seat. She rushed back into the room, rummaged for her laptop and brought it back out. She plopped it open on the table, sent a small yellow tendril of will through it and began to type furiously. A few moments later, a wide grin split her face.

I raised one of my eyebrows in curiosity. I had no idea how technomancy worked, but I knew it was pretty cool watching Belle work her mojo on gadgets. She turned the laptop in my direction, showing me a screen full of numbers, lines, and lots of things I couldn’t understand. At my blank look, she rolled her eyes. “I’ll make this simple. Data is everywhere.” She gestured up to the air and back at the room. “People use cell phones, land lines, computers, everything. And, they’re hooked on them.”

I stared, waiting for her to get to the point. “Naomi is inside a hotel room. She has a television in there, Wi-Fi, and a land line.”

I was slowly starting to get it. “So…”

Belle snorted. “So, I hacked into the hotel database to get her room number and then hijacked the signals in there. Anything she does or says in there we’ll know about it.”

“But Naomi doesn’t use technology, does she? She has magic.”

Cyndi nodded. “Right, but it doesn’t really matter. The fact that she’s surrounded by it still allows us to tap into the signals inside her room. Plus, Naomi won’t be wielding tons of magic while she’s here. She’ll do the majority of her business in the mundane way.”

“That means picking up the phone and calling people to do her bidding instead of that weird, freaky red thing she does.” I tapped my fingers on the patio table. “Interesting. Awesome job, Belle.” I gave her a speculative look. “You could probably make my job a lot easier at home, you know?”

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. “Probably,” she drawled slowly, and looked up at me over the rim of her glasses. “You offering me a job?”

Those words were pregnant with meaning. Did I want to offer her a job? “I couldn’t pay you as much as you’re making right now,” I said, wondering what her angle was. “But, maybe. It took you, what, thirty seconds to tap into Naomi’s room?”

She shrugged. “Twenty, give or take five seconds.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She huffed. “One should never be so casual about data.”

I sighed. “Fine. If you could work that hocus pocus techno woowoo back at home, I’d be able to blow through my clients much faster.” Especially the cheating spouses. Imagine, Belle tapping in to someone’s cell and intercepting dirty text messages before they made it to the other person. Visions of me rolling naked in a pile of money played through my head.

She thought about it. “Nothing illegal?”

I hedged. “Ummm…all’s fair in love and war?”

She gave me a disgusted look. “I’ll look up the laws when we get home.” I was familiar with most of them from the initial business set-up, but not so much with those concerning the use of technology in an investigation. “If we can do things above board and we can come to satisfactory deal, we’ll talk. Until then,” Belle’s attention left me and went back to her keyboard, “we need to focus on Naomi and the Huntsman.”

“Max,” I corrected and then bit my lip at the gleam in Belle’s eyes.

“Oh it’s ‘Max’ now, is it?” Belle’s lips twitched, but Cyndi burst into a belly laugh.

“This is the most twisted love story, ever.” She hooted. “Has he tried to kill you yet?”

I flushed, and Cyndi leaned forward, interested. “Geez,” she said, “I was only kidding.”

I studied my nails, not wanting to elaborate. Belle cleared her throat and made a get-on-with-it hand gesture. “We’ll sit here and stare at you all day if we have to. Spill the beans about
Max
.”

They would, too. “He caught me in a weak moment inside the elevator. I neutralized him.” I pinched my lips together.

“Neutralized?” Cyndi asked cautiously. “Can he still have children?”

I snorted. “I have no idea. He was breathing when I left him. It was enough for me.”

“Harsh,” Belle murmured. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met two more bloodthirsty people than you two.”

I stood up from the patio and walked back inside the room. “I need to figure out what I’m going to wear for the mixer,” I called out.

I heard a chair scrape back. “Wait for me!” Cyndi shouted and scrambled in after me. “I want to help you pick out something to wear.” She waited for me to pull my suitcase out of the closet, bend over it and start unzipping it before she gave me a sheepish look and said, “Umm, I might have messed with your luggage.”

My hands stilled and I straightened from my hunched over pose. “You. Did. What?”

Belle chose that time to come back into the room. “Oh, hell,” she murmured. “I told you that was a bad idea, Cyndi.”

Cyndi glared at Belle and then looked at me without fear. “You need help.”

I blinked. “Psychiatric? Yes, we all know that,” I said with exaggerated patience.

She huffed. “No, dummy. Wardrobe help. Makeup help.” She fluttered her hands at me. “Everything with…that.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

I squawked with outrage as I looked down at my attire. Comfy jeans, respectable, clean shirt and tennis shoes. “I look
fine
!” I yelled, starting to lose my temper with our prissy princess.

“You look like a
hobo
!” Cyndi shouted, tears filling her eyes.

“Why do you care so much about what I
look
like?” I bent back down, started rummaging through my suitcase, and felt rage pour through my body. Cyndi had literally unpacked everything I’d packed and replaced it with soft, feminine,
fucking pastel
clothing. I breathed deep, trying to tamp down the urge to murder her. I held up a heinous pink ruffled shirt. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Ask a prince to rescue me and carry me to his castle on his white steed? Jesus.” I threw the shirt across the room. “And these?” It was a pair of skinny jeans. “I like to eat, Cyndi. These look like I could put them on a toddler and they’d still be too tight.” One by one, I tossed clothing out, desperately searching for the clothes that made me feel comfortable and impervious to criticism.

“Snow.” The voice intruded on my clothing rage, and I tried to ignore it. “Snow.”

“
What
?” I screeched.

Belle stood over me, her lips thin. “Take it easy.”

“Take it easy? She violated my luggage and replaced everything with Barbie clothing!”

A sniffle. I turned swiftly to Cyndi. “Don’t you dare cry on me,” I said, shaking a poor excuse for a shirt in front of her face. “This is your fault.”

“I was just trying to help you,” came the wail.

My shoulders drooped. “And I ask you again, why do feel like you need to help me?” I let the shirt slip through my fingers.

Tears fell freely down her face, and her pert nose reddened. “Because you’re lonely,” she whispered. “I can feel it every time I look at you.”

Belle gasped. I flinched and stared at Cyndi, the silence in the room drawing out in a tight, taut moment. There were so many things I could say. So many hurtful, awful things I could tell her, and she might even deserve some of them after so heinously rummaging through my private things and interfering. But the problem here wasn’t Cyndi, and it wasn’t my clothing. It was me.

I finally shut my eyes for a brief moment, holding the frustrated, angry tears at bay, and then excused myself. I allowed the door to close quietly behind me, even though I wanted to slam it with the force of a grenade.

So where does a girl go when she’s hurt and upset? I don’t know, but this girl went back to the bar. I sidled up to it, grabbed a stool and gestured the big, friendly guy over. “Vodka, straight. Not the cheap stuff.” I had to give him credit. His eyebrow only rose a fraction of an inch before he rumbled his big body over to all the glorious booze and poured me a healthy shot. I took it back in one gulp, enjoying the slow burn of the booze, and gestured for another one. He obliged, so I knocked that one back too.

I asked him for a coke with a shot of vodka and watched his strong, capable hands while wondering what his story was. He slid it over to me with the ease of someone with years of experience in the same job, offered me a slight smile, and left me there to stew. Maybe for the best. I wouldn’t be very good company right now.

“Did someone take your Sig?” The cool voice intruded into my maudlin thoughts. “Tsk, tsk, it’s a sad day when a pretty girl like you sits at the bar crying over her lost hardware.”

I snorted and twisted in my seat to look at Robin. I picked up my drink and clinked it against his. “Cyndi feels sorry for me,” I said without preamble.

His brow crinkled adorably and he burst into guffaws. “Sorry? For you?”

I let him have his moment. I hadn’t confided in him in years, so he had no idea of the extent of my bone-deep loneliness. “She replaced all of my clothing with frilly garments. Pink. Purple. Pastel. Skinny jeans.” I made a gagging noise.

His laughter abruptly stopped. “Christ.” He turned a panicked look to me. “Did you kill her?”

“Not yet,” I said and took a healthy sip of my vodka and coke. “I haven’t got a damn thing to wear and we have this godforsaken mixer in the next hour.”

Robin gave me an appraising look. “Wear what you have on, darling. You look good enough to eat.” He gave me a lustful wink.

I chuckled. “Save all your pretty talk for someone who’ll listen.”

“You always ruin all my fun,” he said. “Say,” he reached over, took the drink out of my hand and set it on the bar. “Why haven’t you and I hooked up before?”

My mouth dropped open. “For real? Did you just say ‘hooked up’? Have you been hanging out in the ghetto again? No one over the age of eighteen says that.”

Robin looked almost offended. “Whatever you’re supposed to call it. No one uses the word ‘lovers’ here.”

“That’s because it’s lame.” I snorted. “You already know the answer to that question. First…” I held up a finger, noticing with amusement how it blurred. The vodka was taking effect. Good. “You have appalling taste in women. Second, you sleep with anything that looks like it might have working lady plumbing.” Robin blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand. “And third, we’re both kind of hot messes, wouldn’t you agree?”

He slumped and handed my glass back to me. “Guess I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But, we should give it a try, don’t you think?”

I laughed. “No.”

A grin spread over his face. “You’re going to be a real pain in the ass for some poor bastard soon, aren’t you?”

I rubbed my hand over my face and thought about his words. “Hardly. Cyndi thinks I’m lonely. She switched my clothes out to help me be more attractive, I guess.”

Concern flashed in his eyes, and a thoughtful look spread over his face. “And are you? Lonely?”

I shrugged and drained the rest of my drink. “I’ve been on Earth for ten years. No boyfriends to speak of, no other friends besides Belle and Cyndi. Maybe I am.”

Robin slung an arm over my shoulder and grinned. “See, that’s why we should sleep together.”

I laughed and pushed him off. “Idiot,” I said with affection as I ruffled his hair. “There are plenty of simpering females around here. Go find one of them.”

He shook his head and a serious look stole over his face. “I’m afraid there’s only one lady for me right now and, so far, she seems to hate everything about me on principle.”

I made a noncommittal noise, knowing full-well who he was talking about. I was going to try my best to stay out of this one, especially after seeing how pissed off I got at what Cyndi just did. I glanced at the clock above the bar and groaned. “Thirty minutes until the mixer. I don’t think I’m going.”

Robin groaned. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Snow. Go rummage through the case and find something suitable. Cyndi doesn’t have terrible taste, and you know it.”

He was right. Cyndi had fantastic taste, but if there wasn’t a shirt that didn’t have a trace of pink in it, I was going to have to strongly talk myself out of pepper spraying her just to get some aggression out. “That’s not the point,” I grumbled.

Robin threw down some bills and gestured at me to get up. “It’s taken care of. Now go upstairs, clean yourself up a bit, and come back down so we can make everyone insanely jealous of our ethereal beauty. And, just think of this as a chance to pay Cyndi back…in spades. I’m sure you can come up with something quite creative to get her back for this.”

I grinned and swayed unsteadily. “Thanks, Robin.” I patted him on his scruffy cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkled adorably as he smiled.

“If Belle keeps telling me no, I’m going to show up in your room naked one day in the future.”