Ice

by Linda Howard

  In the aftermath there was silence, but a silence in which they clung together, gulping in air and trying to regain some strength in legs that had none. His heavy weight crushed her into the wall; if it hadn’t been for the support of that wall, she suspected they would be on the floor of the shower. Her arms were wound around him, and absently she stroked the back of his neck, absorbing the feel of him naked against her. He was all hard muscle, every inch of him, and everything in her that was woman delighted in being pinned there with his penis still heavy inside her.

  He roused up enough to reach out and turn off the shower with a snap of his wrist. The water was cooling anyway, and the efficient gas heater had already warmed the bathroom to pleasantly toasty.

  Neither of them said anything. There would be a time for talking, but that time wasn’t now. For now, they just were, adrift in the moment.

  Gently he cupped one breast with his big, hard hand. His rough thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple and she felt that touch everywhere, tingling along nerve endings that hadn’t yet quieted. She pressed her lips to his wet shoulder, then with a soft sigh let her head rest there.

  Her thoughts drifted as relaxation spread through her bones. She loved this house, she thought drowsily, always had: the smells, the large rooms, the old furniture. Until tonight, all her memories in this place had been good ones. She didn’t want her last memory made in this house to have anything to do with Darwin and Niki. When she walked away, when she said good-bye, she wanted her final memories to be good ones. Gabriel had given her that, replaced horror with pleasure, bad with good.

  Lolly moved her mouth, tasted the wet skin of his neck and inhaled his heat. His breathing changed; his body shifted, but not away from her. He moved closer, deeper into her, and nothing had ever felt so right.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice gruff and steady and soothing.

  “Better.” She was wonderfully warm, wonderfully lethargic. They did need to get dried and dressed, but not just yet. She kissed his neck again. “You?”

  “Yeah. Better.” He paused. “Uh—Lollipop …”

  She smiled, hidden against his shoulder. “I’m on to you, now. You’re just trying to make me mad, calling me that,” she said without heat.

  “Well, yeah. That was always the point,” he said, as if that were obvious.

  “I had a terrible crush on you.” She would never have admitted that before, she would have been mortified if he’d ever suspected … and now it didn’t matter.

  He pulled his head back a little, looking down at her. “No shit?” He sounded pleased. “You didn’t act like it.”

  “Of course not. I was a teenage girl. I’d have died rather than let you know.” Thank God those years were behind her; no way would she ever want to relive the angst and raging hormones, the excruciating insecurity.

  “I liked fighting with you,” he admitted, his own mouth quirking in a little smile. “It got me going.”

  Men, she thought. They couldn’t be the same species. She sighed, so content she could barely move. In that moment, everything was all right; with Gabriel inside her, with the flush of pleasure still fresh, she was content.

  He stirred, reluctantly separating their bodies, and she let him. Her legs unlocked from around him, her thighs sliding down his until her feet once more touched the floor. He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “Are you on the pill?” His voice rumbled in his chest, deep and gruff.

  She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s a little late for that question, isn’t it? But the answer is, yes, I am.”

  “That’s good.” He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “We can do this again.”

  “Right now?” she asked, startled, and he laughed.

  “Fifteen years ago, yeah, but now it’ll take me a couple of hours to recover. Come on, let’s get dry.”

  Her legs weren’t quite steady, but she felt much better, almost normal. She felt a bit self-conscious at being naked in front of him, which was a little silly at this point, but her cheeks heated as she stepped out of the shower and quickly headed for the linen closet, where she grabbed two towels. She tossed one to him and briskly began drying herself, standing close by the wall heater.

  “I have a few cans of soup in the kitchen,” she said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

  “Sounds good to me.” Gabriel scrubbed the towel over his hair, then paused to glance at the cold, wet clothes on the floor. “I don’t suppose your dad left any clothes behind.”

  “No,” she said. “They cleared all their personal items out a couple of years ago.” Then she laughed. “He’s six inches shorter than you, and his waist is probably ten inches thicker. I don’t think any of his clothes would have fit you, anyway. We’ll hang your clothes in front of one of the fireplaces; they should be dry by morning.”

  “Great.” His voice rumbled. “Guess I’ll be bare-assed naked until then.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said, and smiled at him. “But we have blankets, several wall heaters, a couple of gas fireplaces, plenty of candles, and those cans of soup I told you about. I have some instant coffee, too.”

  His eyes lit at the mention of coffee, even instant coffee. “That’ll do.”

  “I’m starving,” Lolly said, realizing as she spoke how true those words were. She also realized that she wouldn’t mind if she and Gabriel were stuck here for a few days. After what had just happened in the shower, so quickly and naturally that she’d barely had time to think, she didn’t wonder at all how they’d pass the time.

  Life took some astonishing turns, she thought. She never could have anticipated this, never thought she’d be so comfortable with him, or that making love with him, of all people, would feel so right.

  Good Lord. Gabriel McQueen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Niki huddled on the floor in a dark corner of the kitchen, listening to the water running upstairs as she tried to force herself to throw off the chill. She strained to hear more. It wasn’t certain that Lorelei and the big guy would be together, though it was likely. One of them might be in the living room, in another room upstairs … right around the corner.

  Did they know she was here? Had they heard her?

  In their earlier exploration of the house, before everything had gone to shit, Darwin had checked out the mud room and the back porch for portable stuff they could pawn, when the money they got from the Helton woman ran low. He hadn’t found shit, naturally, but at the moment that didn’t matter. What mattered, what she’d counted on as she’d crawled up an icy slope and made feverish plans for the night, was that he hadn’t bothered to relock the door when he’d come back in. She’d entered the dark house through the back door, into the mud room, into the kitchen, cold and shaking and hurting all over. She’d felt her way to this corner, cowering and listening. That’s when she’d first heard the water running and realized that at least one of them was upstairs.

  The water stopped, and a moment later she heard faint voices, two of them. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but those voices assured her that no one was waiting around the corner; they were both upstairs. Relief washed through her; she could breathe again. She could think.

  There wasn’t much of anything in the house that could be used as a weapon, now that all the ammunition was gone, but what better place to find a weapon than the kitchen? Niki forced herself to stand, pushing past her pain and the lingering chill. Her hands were so cold, her entire body was so cold she could barely move. Now that she was inside that iciness would fade, but it wasn’t happening fast. Once she had the place to herself she’d light a fire, kick back, take a hit, and relax. She’d earned it tonight.

  Slowly she opened a drawer, then another, cautiously feeling around and not bothering to close them since that might make too much noise and she wasn’t yet ready to face her enemies. She couldn’t see much, but her eyes had adjusted to the dark and there was a touch of light, reflecting off the ice, coming through the kitchen window. There
was just enough for her to see shadows and shapes as she felt around inside the drawers, finding nothing suitable. There was only the bare minimum in the way of utensils. After searching four drawers, she silently huffed in frustration, then she scanned the countertop and smiled at the dark shape she saw there.

  A touch confirmed that the dark shape was a butcher block of knives. She grabbed the handle of the largest knife, and was horrified to find that her hands were so cold she couldn’t properly grip it. What good was a knife if she couldn’t hold it? She carefully placed the knife on the counter within easy rich, then removed her gloves and rubbed her hands together, bringing blood flow and warmth back. She would have liked to turn on the faucet and run warm water over her hands, but the sound of running water would alert the two upstairs, just as it had alerted her, so she didn’t dare. She had to make do. After rubbing her hands for a minute she stuck them under her arms to absorb what body heat she had left.

  With the return of warmth came a rush of pain. She was hurt, she didn’t know how bad, but she thought about Darwin and how those two jerks had killed him, and she pushed the pain away. She’d deal with that later, after they were dead. The big dude would go first, because he was the most dangerous. He’d killed Darwin with his fucking elbow. One quick pop and that was it, no more Darwin. Lorelei was nothing. Niki knew she could take her with no problem, after the big dude was out of the way.

  When she picked up the knife again, she was pleased with her grip. She could hold it properly now. She concentrated on listening again. For a moment there was nothing, then a board overhead creaked. There was a footstep, then another.

  At first she’d been pissed because the power was out, but now she thought that would work in her favor. There were shadows and dark corners where she could hide, where she could wait and catch them by surprise. She had an advantage, a big one. She knew where they were; they thought she was helpless, dead, out of their lives.

  They were wrong. She was like a ghost, a very dangerous ghost who intended to make sure they were both dead before the light of day gave them a chance to find her.

  She remembered seeing a few candles and a couple more flashlights lying around, but searching for them would make too much noise, and any light she made would give her position away. That could wait. They’d know she was here soon enough, but not yet.

  She was a part of the night, she thought, at once giddy and yet strangely detached, as if a part of her was floating along unconnected to her body. She was a shadow. She was death. With the knife gripped in her hand she listened, then took a few careful steps forward. She didn’t need to see.

  And they would never see her coming.

  God, he hated pulling on his wet jeans, but Gabriel fought his way into them anyway. They’d started to dry, thanks to the gas heater in the bathroom, but were still unpleasantly damp and clammy. After everything he’d been through tonight, he could handle unpleasant for a while. Besides, once they got downstairs and started the fireplace, the jeans wouldn’t be damp for long. His coat had kept his shirt dry, and his boots had protected his feet. Once the fireplace had the living room warmer, he’d strip off the jeans and drape them over a chair or something, shoved close to the fireplace so they’d dry faster.

  Lolly had some clothes in her bedroom, which surprised him because she’d been wearing so damn many he thought for sure she’d had them all on. Her bedroom door, however, was locked from the inside. He’d be able to pop the lock with no problem, with a straight pin or a paper clip, neither of which he happened to have on him.

  “There are both downstairs,” she replied, when he said as much. She could have put her own wet clothes back on, as he had, but she couldn’t stand the thought and instead got a thin blanket from the linen closet and wrapped it around her. “I’ll wait until you can get my bedroom door open.”

  That suited him, he thought. Yeah, it was a real hardship, spending the night with a woman wearing nothing but a blanket, when he remembered exactly what she looked like and felt like underneath the cloth.

  He hadn’t intended to have sex with Lolly in the shower, but he sure as hell couldn’t say he was sorry. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted it, that he regretted what had happened. Whether or not it happened again … shit, if she touched him and smiled, if she put her mouth on him again, he likely wouldn’t have any more control than he’d had the first time around.

  It occurred to him that he didn’t know if she was married or ever had been, if she had a husband or a boyfriend back home. Knowing Lolly, he suspected not. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d screw around on a man.

  Then again, could he really say he knew her? People changed in fifteen years. Sometimes they changed a lot. And yet he felt as if he knew her, felt as if the fifteen years were maybe fifteen months instead, that the interval had given him time to see her in a different light and appreciate the differences. Maturity was a wonderful thing.

  “You know,” he said, as casually as he could manage, “we’re probably going to have to walk out of here.”

  Lolly hugged the blanket closer and grimaced. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “How much food and propane do you have handy?”

  She sighed. “Enough for a couple of days, max.”

  “That’s what I figured. We’ll get warm, eat, sleep, wait for the sun to come up and listen for the tree fall to ease up a bit. By tomorrow afternoon, at the latest, the road crews should be out working. The road up the mountain is low priority, probably at the bottom of the list, but if we can make it down the hill we’ll probably meet up with someone long before we reach town.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  He smiled at her. “Then we’ll walk the rest of the way to town.” After tonight, a long, difficult walk in the cold seemed like a cakewalk.

  “I need something hot to eat before I even think about walking out of here.” Bundled up in her blanket, Lolly headed into the hallway, and toward the stairs.

  Lolly hated, hated, hated to go back into the kitchen. Because she hated it so much, she forced herself to keep going, to not hesitate. The memory of what had happened here remained too strong, even though so many other memories—good and bad—had been made tonight. But she wanted and needed warm food in her belly, and she refused to allow a dead man to keep her from it. He was dead; she wasn’t. She’d won.

  With the power out the electronic ignition on the stove wouldn’t work, so she found the matches and lit a burner on the stove; the flame gave off heat and a little bit of light, enough for her to look for some candles and the oil lamps she knew were still here, somewhere. She turned, and stopped dead in her tracks, hugging the blanket closer to her. Several drawers were standing open, and her heart lurched at the sight.

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Darwin and Niki must have been looking for something, but what? Anything that could be sold, she imagined. She wondered if she’d ever again be not afraid. From here on out was she going to jump at the sound of every ring of the doorbell or creak of the house? Would she be suspicious of every stranger?

  Gabriel was in the living room, lighting the gas fireplace, laying their clothes out to dry. She wouldn’t think about Darwin; she’d think about Gabriel. She would concentrate on finding the candles, getting some soup heated, then they’d settle down in front of the fire.

  It hadn’t bothered her before, but she suddenly realized how lumpy she’d looked in all those clothes, layer upon layer. How mortifying, no matter how necessary it had been. She wanted to look good for Gabriel, and wasn’t that a kick in the pants? She’d never cared very much what anyone thought of her appearance, much less Gabriel, but now … now she wished she had the blue sweater that her friends said made her eyes shine, and those really expensive snug jeans that made her butt look fantastic. She touched her wet hair. She could really use a hair dryer, too.

  With one hand holding the blanket, which was wrapped tightly around her, Lolly collected a sauce pan from the cabinet, then gr
abbed a can of soup from the pantry. She set the can on the counter, reached into an open drawer for the can opener … and froze.

  When she’d last been in this kitchen, she’d been trying to fight off Darwin, and she had instinctively scanned the room for weapons. At that time, the block of knives had been full—out of reach, but full. Now, the largest knife in the collection was gone.

  Why would they have taken a knife when they both had guns?

  A chill ran up her spine. Niki could’ve survived the crash and come back. They hadn’t heard her breaking through a window, and Gabriel had locked the front door. But her keys had been in her purse, and Niki had had the purse.

  Lolly could barely breathe. She’d been so intent on getting warm, so sure Niki was either dead or down for the count, she hadn’t even thought about the keys.

  The nightmare came roaring back. The fear and the cold gripped her.

  “Gabriel!” she screamed, whirling to run, and she came face-to-face with the nightmare.

  Niki—bleeding, limping, holding the missing knife in her raised hand—lurched toward Lolly.

  Lolly threw herself backward until she slammed into the cabinet, and then she had no place to go. She grabbed the can of soup and threw it; it bounced off Niki’s shoulder. “Fuck!” Niki said furiously. “That hurt, bitch!”

  Lolly grabbed the saucepan and threw it, and when Niki ducked she seized the chance to dart to the side, away from the cabinets. There was a small dried floral arrangement on the kitchen table; she threw that, too. Niki ducked again, and kept coming.