Snow

by Asha King

  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 do
uble 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.

  “How are we—” she started.

  “You first.” He folded the towel over the window and grasped her around the waist. “Feet first.” Mike kept his voice calm, knowing the moment she panicked, they were both dead. “Take your time. You’re going to have to hold onto the window while I climb up. Okay? Liliana?”

  She met his eyes, inches from his face now as he held her. Terror waited in her gaze but she nodded, lips set in a stubborn, straight line.

  Relief crashed through him. Honestly, if he had to be in this situation with anyone other than a member of his team, he was glad it was her. She wouldn’t break on him.

  He helped Liliana get her feet through the window and slide downward. She breathed steadily, didn’t yelp or freak out. Her hands gripped the windowsill and then she lowered herself, keeping her right arm up so the cuff chain wouldn’t pull.

  Something slammed into the door behind him.

  Mike’s heart shot up but he remained calm, grabbed the windowsill and pulled himself up and through. He’d measured, sure, but it was still a tight fit and his shoulder caught something, pain lashing his skin. Liliana had the sense to step back from his path as he launched himself the rest of the way and landed in the snow beside her.

  The rear of the motel was dark but for the moonlight hitting the snow and reflecting against the white. Snow drifts arched downward and then tall, skinny bare trees filled the area ahead of them. Woods that would thicken the deeper they went. A creek about a kilometer beyond the motel.

  His fingers laced with Liliana’s. “Move. Fast.”

  She didn’t complain, crashing ahead with him as he started through the snow. They had a few blessed moments before the snow seeped through their clothes, soaking their pants and dripping into their shoes.

  “Won’t he follow our footprints?” she asked as they clambered through the trees.

  He would. Mike was hoping she wouldn’t think of that in the moment. “I’m counting on me knowing the area better than he does. We’ll lose him.”

  A flashlight would be good as they navigated the woods, the thick drifts of snow making running more difficult and forcing them to slow, but it would make them more of a target than they already were.

  Minutes passed with just their strained breathing as they ran and steps crunching against the snow. The moonlight peeking through the canopy of bare branches above was enough to navigate. Mike’s hands were cold—freezing as the wind picked up—and he absently grasped Liliana’s, squeezing her trembling fingertips between his. The creek sounded in the distance, sharp trickle of water guiding him forward.

  Eventually they hit the icy bank that gave way to running water. The creek shone like glass in the light, trickling over stones. It wasn’t deep but ice gathered around the edges near the shore, suggesting the temperature was freezing and only movement kept it from icing over entirely. The banks on either side of the creek were steep and difficult to navigate as they climbed down one toward the water.

  “We’re going to get hypothermia,” Liliana mumbled, blowing out a shaky breath.

  He had nothing reassuring to say to her. “Probably.”

  And with that, he tugged her straight into the water.

  The creek made for difficult walking, water pushing at their legs. Rather than simply cross it, he led her in the direction of the current. Water soaked their shoes, weighing their feet down, and numbing their skin. After several minutes of silence, Liliana stumbled beside him; he glanced at her to find her shaking from the cold, her big eyes meeting his.

  He wasn’t in much better shape himself but at least had training, enough that he knew his body wouldn’t up and quit on him, or go into shock at the wrong moment.

  He stopped at her side and scooped her up out of the water, one arm under her legs while the other awkwardly crossed her back. The cuffs were in the way but she shifted, got her arms around his neck to make it easier. Their combined body heat brought him a moment of reprieve from the cold and he kept going, pushing his legs as fast as they would go.

  “You’re l-lucky I’m too cold to sing Whitney Houston right now,” she mumbled, her teeth chattering.

  “Very grateful for that.”

  “Although with the water and t-temperature, it’s a l-little more Jack and Rose, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t like that one either.”

  “I p-promise not to breakout ‘My Heart Will Go On.’”

  “Appreciated. Because I’d cut off my hand and leave you here.”

  Ten minutes of trudging through the water, her clutched in his arms even as the cold got to him and he feared he’d drop her, and they came upon the small bridge at last. He knew now precisely where they were and could’ve collapsed with relief if he didn’t know how much farther they had to go.

  “I can walk, I think, just don’t put me in the water,” she said, and he obliged once they reached the bridge. Her feet touched down and she grasped the railing, held on as her legs wobbled. Mike got himself on the wooden bridge at her side and glanced around, taking stock of the woods around them. The trees thickened ahead and visibility would drop once more.

  There was no sign they’d been followed, but if this guy was as good at tracking him as he was supposed to be, they wouldn’t see any evidence of him. That Liliana was still breathing at his side suggested the confusion of the woods worked in their favor.

  He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore and it took two tries to grip her hand at last. They were chained together, it didn’t actually matter, but he felt better knowing they were linked through flesh rather than the metal ringing their wrists.

  Cold had settled down deep into his body, so cold he could barely feel it anymore. Which wasn’t a good sign. He quickened his pace and after a few minutes of walking, Liliana easily kept up. He was glad to keep her out of the water but the rest probably did her body more harm than good—the moment they stopped, it was so much harder to get started walking again.

  The ground dipped down and trees eventually thinned, enough that a large dark shape formed ahead.

  “C-cabin?” Liliana said in a low voice. Her arms wrapped around his, the weight of her hanging off of him. At least his shirt sleeves were longer, she’d come out in a T-shirt and was shaking now.

  He nodded, not trusting his voice. His teeth chattered too and anything he said would be stuttered, showing just how cold he was too. His body was weakening, the adrenaline long gone and a crash rapidly approaching. Darkness crowded around his vision.

  They started down the hill toward the snow-covered log cabin and his left foot slipped, body went down. Liliana hissed his name but he barely heard it. Just thirty, forty feet to temporary safety and warmth, but exhaustion weighed him down.

  “You’re bleeding!” Liliana’s voice cut in and out around him. “Damn it, O’Hara, why didn’t you say you were bleeding?”

  Probably because he didn’t realize he had been, the cold numbing his skin. He struggled onto his knees as she pulled at him, slipped in the snow again. Black crowded over his vision.

  Safety, she needed safety, but his cold, exhausted body wasn’t cooperating and he slumped forward limply.

  ****

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Liliana sent a futile glance at the cabin, then back down at O’Hara. She had no idea how long they’d been out there but away from the trees, standing over him, she saw the dark stain against his shoulder and arm. She felt around his shirt and encountered tears in the fabric. Did he get shot? Was it the glass from the window? Damn it, she had no idea, but he’d bled a lot. And then he’d carried her through most of the creek, no wonder he was fading.

  She crouched lower, got his free arm over her shoulder. It was awkward with the cuffs, cross
ing their other arms over their torsos to keep together, but she managed to get some of his weight on her and to encourage him to stand. His eyes were open but lids at half-mast, blinking like he couldn’t focus. If they had more light, she expected his lips to be blue—hers as well.

  No lights were on the cabin that she could see—this thick snow piling up suggested it was abandoned. He’d known it was here, maybe it was his. Either way, they had nowhere else to go.

  What should’ve been a quick sprint down the hill turned to a long, arduous trek as Liliana struggled to keep him on his feet. They slipped and slid every few steps and she had horrible visions of them tumbling and breaking limbs or bones, but thankfully made it to the bottom with nothing more than bruises.

  Snow down here, at the back of the cabin, was up to her thighs. She pushed through, past a tarp-covered wood pile, onto the cabin’s old wooden deck and around to the front door.

  O’Hara straightened a little as they got there, like maybe he was slightly less likely to pass out. He thrust his hand against the doorway and blinked a few times, holding himself up.

  Liliana reached for the doorknob. Please be open, please be—

  The door struck a little but wasn’t locked and a shove against it with her shoulder got them inside.

  Snow spilled across the dark floor. She felt around the wood-panelled wall but didn’t locate a light switch. Theirs steps echoed as they walked in, floorboards creaking with every movement. O’Hara managed to get the door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

  Liliana started forward, was stopped short by the goddamn cuffs again. She shivered, the room not that much warmer than outside; although they were sheltered by the elements, she faintly saw her breath fogging the air.

  “K-key?” she managed, lifting her arm to indicate the cuffs.

  “Fuck.” She couldn’t see him well in the dark but imagined his shoulders sagging. “Nightstand.”

  Wonderful. “Is there a l-light?”