Blank Slate

by Snow, Tiffany

  No. It was bullshit. All of it. She lied for a living. It shouldn’t surprise him that she was good at it. Telling the truth would be more of a stretch for O’Connell than lying.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t believe you. And I don’t care. You just pulled a gun on me. Why the hell would I believe you? What’s important to me now is getting out of here before more of Solomon’s men show up.”

  Something akin to hurt flashed across her face and was gone. She nodded wordlessly.

  “You’ll probably want to put a new bandage on that,” Erik continued. No way was he doing it again. She could just learn to stand the sight of blood without passing out. “I’m going to get your stuff out of the car.” It had occurred to him, albeit belatedly, that her bags might have clothes that fit her.

  “I have stuff?” she asked, perking up.

  She looked so hopeful, it almost cracked his shitty mood. Instead, he snorted, going to collect the gun from dead guy number two before heading outside. A few minutes later, he was back.

  “Here,” he said, depositing her two duffels on the floor. He’d searched them and removed two guns and a knife. No sense handing her another weapon to use on him. “Don’t bother looking for your guns. I took them.”

  O’Connell glanced up from where she was crouched next to the bags. “Whatever,” she said before resuming her examination of the bags’ contents. Erik watched for a moment. She pulled out clothes and other items, electronics and a laptop, looking at each as though she’d never encountered it before. Frowning, she turned a gadget over in her hand, seeming unsure of what it was.

  “I’ll check the garage for snow gear,” Erik said, interrupting her perusal. “Just in case.”

  She didn’t reply, so he left her sitting on the floor surrounded by her stuff.

  As he’d hoped, the cabin’s owner was well prepared for the climate. In short order, Erik found a high-altitude tent, two down sleeping bags, snowshoes, and other assorted items necessary for survival outdoors in a Colorado winter. While he didn’t plan on having to use them, it was best to be prepared.

  When he came back into the house, O’Connell was gone. For a moment, he panicked, then he heard the shower running in the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, she emerged, dripping wet and wearing only a towel.

  “Where the hell are your clothes?” he snapped, watching as she crossed to her duffel and began rummaging. The towel pulled up the backs of her thighs as she bent, stretching tightly over her—

  Erik jerked his gaze away, hurriedly turning his back to her.

  “I didn’t like what I picked,” O’Connell said, matter-of-factly.

  “So you’re just going to prance around here half-naked?”

  When she didn’t reply, Erik chanced turning around, then wished he hadn’t. She was facing him now, and his eyes were drawn to the little bit of towel tucked between her breasts. One tug and the whole thing would fall. He swallowed.

  “Prancing? Really?” The dry sarcasm in her voice made his gaze jerk up to hers in time to see her roll her eyes.

  “Just, hurry it up,” he barked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We don’t have all day.”

  “Geez, you’re a grouch,” she muttered.

  Erik breathed a sigh of relief when she disappeared back into the bathroom. It was bad enough that he couldn’t seem to get the image of her out of his mind. He didn’t need to add wet skin and a barely there towel to the gallery.

  Jerking on his coat, Erik loaded the back of his SUV with the supplies he’d found, along with nonperishable food from the kitchen. By the time he was done, O’Connell had reemerged from the bedroom, this time respectably clad in jeans and a black, oversize sweater. She looked vaguely irritated as she pulled on boots and a coat.

  “What?” he finally asked.

  She shrugged. “The mirror was disappointing. I have red hair and freckles.”

  Erik paused while holstering his gun, looking askance at her. Her deeply scarlet locks and ivory skin contrasted markedly with the dark sweater, making her appear striking. The freckles dotting her complexion softened the sharp bone structure of her face.

  “We all have our crosses to bear,” he mocked. If she was searching for compliments, she could damn well search someplace else.

  She shot him an irritated look, her lips curling in a smirk. “And yours is being a complete jackass?”

  Her insult did nothing for his mood. “You bring out the best in me,” he shot back, then turned on his heel, leaving her to repack her things while he went outside. And no, he wasn’t running away so he could have the last word, dammit.

  Searching the SUV the men had arrived in yielded nothing of use, though Erik did grab the cell phone one of them had carried. It had no signal, but he was hopeful it would contain data that would help track down Solomon.

  Erik loaded the dead bodies into their black SUV, the sweat from the exertion instantly freezing on his skin. The cold temperatures would serve to keep the bodies from decomposing before he could get someone from the field office out here to pick them up.

  Back inside, he saw O’Connell picking up her duffels. She winced, her face going white, but didn’t so much as let out a peep as she endured their weight.

  “Give them here,” Erik said roughly, taking one bag from her and shouldering the other one. God knew why in the hell he was being nice. She’d shoot him with his own gun if he took his eyes off her or let down his guard.

  As they stepped outside, O’Connell paused, frowning at the sky.

  “I don’t know if leaving now is such a good idea,” she said uncertainly. “It looks like it’s going to snow again.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Erik said, dismissing her. “It always looks like that here.” He tossed the bags in the back.

  “You know this?” she asked, getting in the passenger seat and glancing his way.

  “Trust me,” he replied. The engine turned over immediately, the quiet purr reassuring him. The snow began to squeak under their tires as they pulled out.

  A few hours later, his hands were white-knuckled as they gripped the steering wheel, the blizzard of flakes falling from the sky a white curtain that prevented him from seeing more than three feet in front of the car.

  They should have been out of the mountains by now. Erik was sure he’d know in the daylight where they were going. But the storm obscured everything, and he had no idea if he was getting somewhere or just traveling around in circles.

  “Please,” O’Connell said, her voice tight with stress. “Can we please go back? Just until the weather clears. I swear I won’t try anything.” Her eyes were glued to the windshield.

  Erik’s lips pressed tightly together as he maneuvered the SUV at a crawl through the snow. Talk about forfeiting his man card. He was going to have to tell her that they were completely lost, that he didn’t even know the way back to the cabin, not in this storm. Hello, cliché.

  At least she hadn’t said “I told you so.”

  Erik brought the car to a stop. “I don’t think we can get back, not in this.” No sense telling her just yet that they were lost.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I brought some stuff that’ll get us through until the storm blows over. We’ll just hunker down in here and wait it out.”

  “Wait it out?” The screech in her voice made him flinch. “You have no idea where we are, do you?”

  “It’s a little hard to see right now.” He gestured to the storm raging outside.

  “I told you it looked like it was going to — ” she began.

  “Don’t,” he warned, holding up a finger.

  Her emerald eyes flashed at him, but her mouth closed, thank God.

  “Listen,” he said, “I have sleeping bags in the back, food, water. We’ll be fine. Once the storm passes, we’ll get out of here.”

  “Am I supposed to ‘trust you’ about that?”

  “Maybe you could lose the sarcasm next time, rath
er than the memory,” he bit out. “It’d be more helpful.”

  “Go to hell,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

  “I’m already there,” Erik muttered, turning off the car before climbing into the back. They had to conserve fuel, so he couldn’t leave the car running. They’d just have to use the sleeping bags to stay warm.

  It was getting dark, night came early this time of year, and the storm didn’t help matters. Erik grabbed a glow stick from his stack of supplies and broke it, filling the car with a weak golden glow.

  “You’ll have to come back here,” Erik told her. He’d laid the backseats down to have room for the sleeping bags.

  “Why?” O’Connell asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Because we need to conserve body heat,” he explained, striving for patience. “But if you want to wait until you’re freezing, by all means, be my guest.”

  Ignoring her, he spread out the down-filled bags, climbing into one before rummaging some more in the supplies.

  Clarissa watched Langston with apprehension. She hated this. The confines of the car combined with the darkness felt like a physical weight on her chest. Snow was quickly layering on the windshield, obscuring the view outside. As she tried to make out the shapes of trees through the glass, it seemed to press in, making the inside of the car smaller.

  “I have to…go outside first,” she stammered.

  “Why?” He sounded suspicious. As if she’d try to make a run for it in the middle of nowhere, during a blizzard.

  “Why do you think?” Clarissa snapped back.

  Langston rummaged in the back until he produced a roll of toilet paper. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “Absolutely not,” Clarissa argued. God, how embarrassing.

  “With the storm, it’s easy to get lost,” Langston replied, climbing back over the seat.

  “I am not about to have you watch me while I…I…” Good lord, she couldn’t even say it.

  Langston seemed amused. “For a woman who walks around wearing only a towel, you seem bizarrely shy about normal bodily functions.”

  “That’s different,” Clarissa spluttered. “And I don’t want to discuss it. Just wait here. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Before he could say anything to further mortify her, Clarissa climbed out of the SUV.

  “Don’t go far,” he called out as she shut the door.

  The snow was a blurry mass of swirling white, making her squint against the onslaught. She took a few steps toward the other side of the narrow road. Trees were there. She could find a spot among them.

  It took longer than she would have thought to make her way against the wind, snow, and drifts to reach the stand of trees. Luckily, once she did, the wind was somewhat abated by the thick evergreens.

  Clarissa paused to catch her breath, glancing back at the car. If she could see it, then Langston could see her. This was going to be a pain in the ass enough without doing it for an audience.

  Pushing her way farther into the forest, she kept walking until she could turn and not see the car. Good. Now, to find an adequate spot.

  Clarissa vowed to never again take indoor plumbing for granted. By the time she’d finished, her ass felt like a block of ice and she was cussing a blue streak. Oh, to have a penis at times like these.

  Still cranky, she’d just started to make her way back to the car when a noise made her stop. Frowning, she turned, searching the woods.

  Nothing. It must have been her imagination.

  Taking another few steps, she heard it again. This time, the noise was unmistakable.

  It was a growl.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature raced across her skin, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  Slowly, Clarissa turned to face the direction the growling had come from. Eyes glowed in the semidarkness. A wolf stood about fifteen feet away, staring at her.

  Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

  Keeping her eyes on the wolf, she took a step backward. It didn’t move. She took another step. This time, it did.

  As it came into the clearing, Clarissa got a good look at it. The gray fur was matted in spots, and it looked too skinny. Too hungry.

  And if there was one wolf, there were probably more.

  Oh God.

  She had no choice. She was going to have to make a run for it.

  Before she could change her mind, Clarissa turned and took off. Funny how panic and fear could propel you through snow quicker than a full bladder.

  The wolf howled behind her. An answering howl to Clarissa’s right made the blood ice in her veins.

  A branch lay on the ground ahead of her. It must have broken off from the weight of the snow. Clarissa snatched it up, glancing behind her to see the wolf coming at her.

  She screamed as she swung, a piercing shriek rending the air. To her shock, the branch connected with a solid thunk. The wolf yelped and fell back.

  Clarissa stood her ground, the rough tree branch clenched in her grip. She held it like a baseball bat.

  The wolf eyed her more warily now, its tongue lolling outside its mouth. Its teeth looked sharp, and there were lots of them. It paced a few feet away, not intimidated enough to retreat farther.

  Suddenly, it came at her again. Clarissa tightened her grip, ready to swing—

  A gunshot broke the quiet, and the wolf stopped, falling to the ground. Red stained the pristine snow underneath its body. It didn’t move.

  Clarissa whipped around to see Langston standing a few yards away, gun still at the ready. She let out a relieved breath.

  “Come on,” he ordered. “There’s probably more of them.”

  No need to tell her twice. Dropping the branch, she hurried toward him, surprised when he took her elbow in a firm grip.

  “I told you to not go far,” Langston bit out, his eyes swiveling, watching for danger.

  “Can you wait until we’re back in the car before you start yelling at me?” Clarissa retorted. She’d nearly been dinner for a hungry wolf, and not the two-legged kind.

  They were nearly at the car when another howl broke the stillness of the night. Langston stepped up the pace, nearly dragging her through the snow.

  He jerked open the car door and motioned her to get in, keeping watch around them as she climbed inside. Clarissa hurriedly scooted over to her seat, not breathing properly until Langston was in the car and had shut the door behind him.

  More howls sounded outside, sending a shiver through Clarissa. The sounds were lonely, terrifying, and beautiful all at once.

  Langston sighed, swiping a hand tiredly across his face. It suddenly occurred to Clarissa that she owed him a thank-you.

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing at him. “I think you saved my life.”

  “I know I did,” he snapped. “If you’d done what I’d said, it wouldn’t have been such a close call.”

  Now Clarissa’s temper was rising. “It wasn’t like I was trying to get into trouble. I didn’t know there’d be wolves out there. And it scared me out of my wits, so I don’t need you yelling at me about it!”

  Langston looked at her, his jaw clenched tight and his lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Besides,” Clarissa added, her temper abating somewhat. “I did something I’m going to regret.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I dropped the toilet paper.” Which really, really sucked.

  Langston didn’t say anything for a moment, then made a noise. Clarissa looked up at him, curious, and was stunned to see him actually grinning. He was laughing. At her.

  “Yeah, it’s just a ball of laughs for you,” she grumbled irritably. She couldn’t be mad at him, though. It was the first time he’d smiled, and it took her breath away. He had dimples. Hard-ass FBI Agent Langston had honest-to-God dimples. Clarissa thought he probably had no problems at all getting women, not with those e
yes, that body, and his smile. She bet he just crooked his finger and they came running.

  Slutty bitches.

  Okay, stop right there. Jealousy of imaginary women over a man who was more interested in her rap sheet than her…feminine assets…was just ridiculous. Clarissa shook her head in chagrin even as Langston seemed to regain control, his laughter fading.

  Shooting her one more look, he climbed into the back.

  “You coming or not?” he asked.

  Jerking her gaze away from the windows, she turned to the back. Langton seemed blithely unconcerned, ignoring her presence entirely as he chewed on something. By the smell, it must be beef jerky. He was sitting inside a sleeping bag, another laid out beside him.

  The seats being down made the inside of the car larger, but Langston’s size negated that. He wasn’t a small guy, Clarissa guessed he was maybe six three, and he had to slouch so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling.

  The cold had begun to seep into the car, and Clarissa shivered, eyeing the sleeping bag with longing. She wanted to climb into it, but something held her back, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. The light from the still-lit glow stick reflected off the windows, making them appear opaque.

  “Looking at it won’t keep you warm,” Langston quipped, interrupting her thoughts.

  Steeling herself, Clarissa climbed over the seat, which was a hard thing to do. Of course, Langston had made it look easy.

  Clarissa’s foot caught on the gearshift, and she lost her balance, toppling headfirst into the back. With a muffled Oof! she landed sprawled across Langston.

  “Ow,” she muttered, wincing at the ache in her side.

  Langston’s arms were around her, and Clarissa realized he’d caught her to some extent, not that she’d given him much choice.

  “Sorry about that.” She struggled to get up and suddenly found her wrist in a viselike grip.

  “Watch where you’re pushing,” Langston said roughly.

  Clarissa’s face grew hot, realizing that in her haste to get off him, she’d accidentally touched places she shouldn’t.