Snow Read online

  Mike paused by the table and scooped up her pair of boots to bring with him, flashing her a tight-lipped, knowing smile. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Her cheeks darkened, either with embarrassment from realizing he knew she was plotting or anger, he couldn’t say. Mike left her there stewing while he headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

  A full minute passed with him listening for movement in the other room.

  Nothing came.

  Satisfied she was staying put, he tucked her boots behind the toilet, then stripped down and stepped into the shower. Hot water rained down, relaxing him but doing nothing to quiet the stirring in his groin.

  Mike worked. A lot. Didn’t have time to date and that was if he even thought relationships with him could work, which he didn’t. Didn’t have an interest in hooking up randomly, either, which left him with few options for release. He repressed. Kept focused on his job, which he excelled at. Avoided romantic entanglements.

  It was natural, then, that he’d have this sort of reaction to Liliana White, he rationalized. Not just her beauty but her brazenness, the way she stripped down without thought to reveal a body he wanted to sink into. That stubborn edge that made his job so much more difficult also intrigued him, drew his attention. Mike liked a challenge as it kept him busy, and she was definitely...challenging.

  That’s all it was, though, the craving of his body to feel the touch of a woman combined with the fiery will of the one in the next room that he found attractive. And while under other circumstances he might give in and bring himself to release in the shower to help taper down his arousal so he could better focus, that would add unnecessary time away from his charge.

  Instead he twisted the tap until cold water ran, blasting all thoughts from his head as icy needles struck against his skin. This prompted him to bathe swiftly and give his hair a quick scrub, rinse clean, and then exit the shower. Shaving took but minutes as well and by the time he was dressed, only eight minutes had passed since he’d left the main room.

  Mike opened the bathroom door, finding the hotel room warmer than the bathroom had been after the icy water, and padded out feeling refreshed and ready for breakfast.

  The room was empty.

  He froze in the doorway and looked around, certain she was just tucked in a shadowed corner or something. No sign of Liliana, however—not only visually, but no soft breathing, no crackle in the silence that indicated another person was present in the room.

  Anger clutched hard at him, white hot, and he was grateful for it as it was much preferable to the worry nipping at its heels.

  Mike dumped his old clothes on the bed and her boots beside it, moved swiftly around the room to ensure he wasn’t missing something. As stupid as it was, maybe she was hiding, hoping he’d go out looking for her so she could slip out at her leisure. Others had tried it.

  His cell phone rang and he debated ignoring it, but it flashed the office number. It was a text message telling him to check his email, more information related to this Liliana White case. Something important, then.

  Important still had to be backburnered if his charge was actually missing.

  He checked the balcony, the curtains around them. The closet. Even under the bed. But her jeans were gone from the chair, coat missing as well. Hell, she’d even taken his scarf and gloves.

  His scarf and gloves...

  Mike glanced around, did a second round of checking, and then realized what else was missing.

  She stole his goddamn shoes.

  ****

  Liliana hadn’t actually expected to get away with it but here she was, on the bus headed out of the city, still with twenty-three dollars in her pocket.

  It took three pairs of socks and tying his shoes as tight as they would go before they definitely seemed to be staying on enough for her to walk—if she had to run, she’d be screwed. The shower was running by that point and she’d run out of the room in just the shoes, jeans, and the T-shirt she’d slept in, with her coat clutched in her arms, his gloves stuffed in her pocket, and his scarf swinging around her neck, fluttering at her sides. She wished she’d had time to check for money but his wallet was in the pocket of the pants he’d worn into the bathroom. Her bank card had been in her pocket just in case, however, as was her battery-less cell phone. Otherwise the money she had would have to do.

  She was hunched down low in her seat, the too-big gloves keeping her hands warm and scarf wrapped twice around her throat to partially hide her face. The bus was only a third full which meant she had space near the back to herself, no one in the seats ahead or behind her. She leaned her head against the window, watching the gray slushy road pass. She wanted to nap but didn’t think she could yet.

  Her stomach rumbled. Thankfully she’d grabbed a croissant and apple from the breakfast tray, wrapped them in a napkin, and stuffed them in her pocket before bolting from the room. She wished she could’ve grabbed coffee as well.

  She pulled off one of the gloves and plucked out the croissant to pick at it. A little dry but beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all, and for the next while she expected she’d do a lot of begging.

  There was nowhere for her to go, after all. If she managed to find her stepsister and ask her for help, well, she’d be right where everyone could find her. If she started over somewhere else and used her ID to get a job, someone would track her down.

  Luckily, Liliana wasn’t scared of a challenge and spent enough time with what would be considered the rougher element when growing up that she could navigate difficult situations. She could find work in places where they didn’t want a social insurance number; she could find a place to live that didn’t force her to cough up first and last month’s rent right off the bat. Neither would be ideal places—they’d be dangerous, she’d have to be on guard. But she could make it work.

  She chewed the dry croissant, tossing possibilities over in her head. When this bus stopped, she’d get a ticket on another. See where she ended up, so long as she had enough cash left to get something to drink. Should’ve brought her duffel bag but maybe it was better with fewer things to carry.

  O’Hara would’ve figured out she was gone by now—she didn’t doubt him when he said it would only be ten minutes. Maybe he wouldn’t chase this time, though. Maybe he’d decide she wasn’t worth the effort and return whatever retainer he’d been given to watch her. That’d be the smart thing to do, no way were they paying him enough.

  When she breathed in through her nose, she got a whiff of his aftershave still clinging to the scarf. He probably smelled like that coming out of the shower as well. Spicy. Clean. Masculine without being that cheap, offensive odor most men had wafting off of them when they thought they were putting their best foot forward. She enjoyed the scent and let her mind wander. If circumstances were different, well...

  Well, what? In what world would circumstances be “different”? Like if he strolled in The Palace while she worked there? Guy like O’Hara wouldn’t step foot in a place like that. And if he did, he wouldn’t go near someone like her. No, she attracted Jimmy’s type. She had since her breasts first popped out and male attention zoomed her way in middle school. If any guy was interested in her, she usually assumed there was something wrong with him.

  Of course, O’Hara had definitely been checking her out last night, but then she’d been stripping out of her clothes and just about anyone would have. He had the sense not to look seriously.

  Liliana shoved thoughts of him from her head and instead pulled out her cell phone and the battery she’d bought at a kiosk in the bus station. She still had no plans to call anyone but it kept gnawing at her, the question of what was going on with Jimmy. If he’d called again. He didn’t have the patience to keep trying her phone, she didn’t think, but she was curious.

  She slipped the battery in and her phone bloomed to life again. No new texts but another voice message.

  She held the phone to her ear and listened.

  “L
il, baby,” Jimmy’s voice purred. “Just call me back. You know you were always my favorite. I miss you. Let’s just meet somewhere and talk. Anywhere, your choice. Just you and me, Mom doesn’t gotta know. Call me, baby—I’m waiting for you.”

  She rolled her eyes and hung up, popped the battery out again. Maybe she’d call and suggest they meet at the police station.

  Mom doesn’t gotta know. Right, like he’d successfully pull one over on his mother or even try in the first place. Elise kept him out of trouble. He wouldn’t give that security up. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She could play a lot of guys but Jimmy...Jimmy, probably not. It wasn’t that he was smarter than her. Just more dangerous. Maybe even borderline sociopath and therefore not likely to succumb to her charms.

  The sensation of movement around her slowed until the bus came to a sudden halt.

  Liliana opened her eyes but didn’t sit up, remaining curled up in her seat as she waited. Another stop, this far out? A glance out the window revealed a mostly-empty stretch of land, fields on either side. They were well outside the city. There was no stop out here.

  Shit.

  She braced. Peeked between the seats as the door opened. Someone stepped onto the bus and dread sank in her stomach the moment she saw his familiar head of auburn hair.

  Shiiiiiit.

  O’Hara stepped up to the driver first, leaned forward to speak softly to the man, flashed something that might’ve been ID.

  Then he stood straight and faced the passengers on the bus.

  Liliana remained in her seat. Waiting. She felt each step he took, her pulse beating in time with it. She refused to look scared or embarrassed, instead holding his stare defiantly as he walked up to her.

  O’Hara stopped next to her seat. “Let’s go.”

  He’d drag her out if she didn’t move, she had no doubt. Briefly her gaze flickered to the other passengers. She could scream. Fight. Insist she didn’t know him. Beg someone to help her. Make a scene, which would lead to someone calling the police, and then they’d want to know who she was and she’d be right back to where she started.

  Though she’d already decided to go with him, O’Hara prompted her by pulling a square of leather from his pocket and showing her the bronze symbol.

  Police. He was faking being a cop. All he had to say was that she was some escaped criminal and that was it, no one would help her. He’d already told the driver.

  She sighed and rose, put the remainder of the croissant in her mouth, stuffed her bare hand back in his gloves. He had no replacement for them, no scarf either, and she could be nice and give them back but she was feeling petty and liked the idea of him being cold and uncomfortable.

  Liliana moved ahead of him, O’Hara not grabbing her arm this time but close enough that she could feel him at her back, his jacket brushing hers. She avoided the curious eyes staring at her, grabbed the croissant again with her gloved hand and chewed what was left in her mouth. Maybe she’d pissed him off and he’d starve her now, not bothering to offer her food. Maybe chain her up in a basement. Wouldn’t surprise her.

  The driver avoided her eyes as she passed him and walked down the wet steps to the slushy curb. O’Hara’s familiar SUV waited ahead of where the bus had stopped. Snow continued to fall, the flakes big and wet and sinking down into her hair and coat. The wind blew, nipping at her face, and she was grateful she’d stolen his scarf. Slush soaked into the shoes she’d stolen from him.

  Liliana glanced back as O’Hara stepped down from the bus. He had a pair of sneakers—must’ve been in the bag of his stuff that arrived that morning. Pity she hadn’t thought to look, she would’ve taken them too.

  She swallowed the mouthful of croissant and looked up at him as the bus door closed and vehicle rolled away. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying.”

  He said nothing. Held her gaze, his eyes cold and guarded. A tic twitched his jaw, the one sign that he’d definitely lost his cool with her. When he reached for her, she sighed and rolled her eyes, expecting to feel the bite of his hand latched on her upper arm while he manhandled her into the vehicle.

  Instead metal snapped against her right wrist.

  Liliana blinked and looked down at the handcuff. “Um, you’re cuffing me now?”

  The other bracelet snapped on his right wrist, locked in place.

  She looked between them, pulled on the chain connecting them for a moment but it held fast. “What the—”

  “Congratulations, Miss White—you’ve just ensured the next few weeks are going to be very interesting.”

  Chapter Four

  Handcuffed to O’Hara.

  That was something she hadn’t expected.

  He’d maneuvered her into the SUV by forcing her in the driver’s seat ahead of him—apparently he didn’t trust her enough to wait for the cuffing part. Then back they went to the hotel, a long thirty minute drive in silence.

  “What took you so long?” she asked at last as he parked in the lot approximately where he’d left the SUV last night.

  “I had a few calls to make.” He waited by the open door, his arm stretched out, while she wiggled her way over the seats until she could climb out and stand next to him.

  “And you weren’t worried I’d get away?” She struggled to keep up with his fast clip as he headed back into the hotel, a repeat from last night except she stumbled in too-big shoes with soaking wet feet and she felt even more hopeless than she did previously.

  “The bus was actually preferable—I knew exactly where you were and could pick you up at my leisure.”

  She chewed on that while they rode in the elevator and then headed back toward the room. He unlocked the door and pulled her inside, the cuff biting into her skin. He stopped her just inside the door, produced the tiny key to the handcuffs, and unlocked hers. Before she could make a snarky remark, he pulled off the gloves and her jacket, then his own coat, and once again snapped the cuff back on her wrist.

  Liliana looked from the cuffs to him. “You’re serious about this?”

  He blinked back at her impassively, no longer angry and not amused either. “Your bed or mine?”

  Asshole. She twisted from him and kicked off her shoes, then stripped off all the layers of socks only to leave them in a wet pile on the carpet. She sat on the bed he’d occupied last night and sure enough he sat next to her, both of them leaning against the headboard. Rather than go for the TV this time, he pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through it. Their linked hands remained on the bed between them.

  “What about when I have to shower or go to the bathroom?” she said. “You joining me for that?”

  “If I think you’re a threat to your own safety, maybe,” he said without looking up from his phone. “But unless you’ve dug a tunnel through the tile in there, you can use the facilities cuffed by yourself.”

  He was serious.

  It seemed like her options, then, were to behave herself and convince him she could be trusted so he’d take the cuffs off her—and they might very well be long past that now—or just drive him insane until he gave up and quit.

  The silence was driving her nuts, making her antsy. Her toes were cold, skin puckered from being stuck in wet socks for so long. The coffee from the breakfast tray was likely stone cold by now. Maybe if they were going to be here a while, he’d get someone to bring a coffeemaker up permanently.

  “What if I just started screaming and someone called hotel security, and they found I was being kept here against my will?”

  “I get arrested, you get taken in as well, they take your name and statement, and everyone will know where you are. But I’m doubtful anyone will hear you scream.”

  “You booked the rooms on either side of us, didn’t you?”

  “And across the hall.”

  Goddamn. Wouldn’t surprise her if he’d already paid off hotel security or something. He wouldn’t have to pull the “I’m protecting a witness” thing—he could play cop with a criminal, rich guy with a girl
in bed who liked to scream. Endless possibilities he could be planning for.

  Of course, that didn’t mean she’d eliminated the possibility of screaming. Just that she was putting it off for now. “So you said you knew I was on the bus—how?” she asked at last.

  “You weren’t going to pick a city one, you’d try to get as far as you could,” he said. “Bus station was logical. That was the first one heading away from the city leaving during the window you’d left the hotel.”

  “And you didn’t think I’d get off it and take another?”

  “Eventually. You’d get as far as you could on your bus fare first.”

  And of course he wasn’t telling her this to be smug. No, he’d keep the information of how he found her if he thought it would be more useful to him, she had no doubt. He was telling her to discourage her from trying to outsmart him again.

  “Do you know who Jimmy Hartley is? What he’ll do if he finds me?”

  “Yes and that’s why you’re not leaving my side.”

  “And what happens when he cuts through you to get to me? At least I have a fighting chance on my own.”

  “You are extremely naive if you think that.”

  Well, maybe he was right. Not like someone had provided her with the guy’s resume.

  She flexed the fingers of her left hand, the chain between his cuff and hers creaking restlessly. “Can you get some more coffee brought up?”

  In answer, he set down his cell and instead lifted the room’s landline phone from its cradle, hit the number for room service. “Hello, this is room—”

  Liliana screamed at the top of her lungs.

  She launched herself at him, clawed and kicked, working up her heartrate and shouting until she was out of breath.

  Then he had her wrists in just one of his hands, pinning them to the pillow over her head. She twisted, fought against him, but couldn’t budge him.

  His other hand disappeared out of view, rooted around something by the bed, and a moment later her screaming was muffled as he shoved a hunk of fabric in her mouth.