Snow (7 page)

There was nothing he could say to that. No reassurance he could give. Sure, she could be put in witness protection if the threat against her was found credible. She could disappear with help from the authorities far better than if she did it on her own.

But that wasn’t what she was asking about and he knew it.

“Exactly,” she said before he could reply. “This isn’t altruism. This isn’t about what’s best for
me
. It’s your job. What you’re paid for. And even if you do your little mission here perfectly and you can sleep easy at night knowing you did everything you were hired to do, that doesn’t make me safe. It’s just delaying the inevitable until a time when it’s more convenient for your conscience to have me die.”

And with that she rolled over, leaving her left arm where it was by the pillow as it was still attached to his, the handcuff chain clinking softly between them.

Mike stared up at the ceiling again, commanding sleep that never came, and telling himself it was just all the coffee keeping him up and nothing else.

Chapter Five

Around noon, after picking at a light lunch, Liliana found herself running the fingers of her free hand through her hair and frowning at the grease building up. She hadn’t washed it a while, trying to make the little hair product she had with her last. Her skin felt grimy as well, too many days trying to escape in bulky clothes that left her sweaty afterward.

“I’d like to shower,” she said, glancing at O’Hara.

They sat on the same bed they’d slept on. The sheets were back in place only because he’d made the bed while she was in the bathroom earlier—he wasn’t letting in the maid and set their trays of dirty dishes outside the door when they were done with them so no one came in the room. The TV was on in the background but he’d been ignoring it, reading on his phone instead.

“Sure.” He set the phone down and when he rose, she scrambled across the bed and followed. Her overnight bag waited by the table and she pulled out her toiletries while he retrieved the key to the cuffs.

His cell phone rang as they were on the way to the bathroom, but he’d left it by the nightstand. O’Hara glanced at it but kept going—apparently he wasn’t about to delay her shower for it.

In the bright light of the bathroom, he unlatched the cuff from his wrist and turned so his back was to her, waiting. If he was paying attention, he’d still see her clearly in the corner of his eye with the massive mirror to their left. She found herself not particularly minding if he did—it would be fun to catch him.

She stripped off her T-shirt and tossed it on the counter. Reached back to unhook her black lace bra, the other handcuff bracelet dragging across her skin and spilling goose bumps across her bare flesh as it did. She watched his eyes in the mirror, didn’t see his expression change or gaze flicker at all as she let the straps of her bra fall and pool on the floor. Her jeans went next, leaving her in just her panties. Her nipples pulled tight as the air touched them but she made no move to reach for a towel.

“Okay.” She lifted her wrists in front of her. “Cuff me.”

O’Hara paused. “You’re sure?”

So he definitely was aware of her partial nudity.

Liliana lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, her curls tickling her bare skin with the movement. “If you’ll be following me back and forth to the shower for however long we’re stuck together, I’m sure you’ll see plenty of me. I’m not shy.”

He hesitated, still. Maybe giving her a chance to change her mind and cover up. Or maybe for some other reason. Either way, he turned slowly and his eyes locked on her offered wrists immediately. He wrapped the free cuff around her right wrist, slowly letting it click closed, and he gave both bracelets a quick pull to ensure they were secure.

“I’d have done it myself,” she said, “but I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to trick you.”

His gaze didn’t do a sweep of her body, color didn’t touch his cheeks—his expression was stony, all business.

“So what happens when these get rusted when I keep wearing them in the shower?”

“I have more.”

She cocked a brow at that suggestion. “Kinky.”

O’Hara turned and headed for the door. “Let me know when you’re done.”

She stared after him as the door shut.

In his absence, she realized her heart was hammering and heat had pooled low in her belly. She took in a steadying breath, blinked a few times, but it didn’t clear her head at all. Part of her was...a little
disappointed
he hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t even accidentally leered a little. She wasn’t used to that and acting as if she had no effect on him was only going to encourage her to push him more. She couldn’t help it, it was like poking a bear when the sign said not to.

It was one of those mistakes Liliana couldn’t help making again and again.

She sighed and hooked her thumbs at the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs. The scent of her own arousal hung in the air, a fresh spot of dampness in her underwear. Just standing there near-naked in front of him, aware that his eyes were on her even as he tried to keep them off of her, roused her body’s need.

And that’s not going to happen, no matter how crazy you drive him
. O’Hara wouldn’t act on anything, wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. For all her needling, she knew he at least thought of himself as one of the good guys. There to save her. He wouldn’t
consciously
do something to jeopardize his own white knight view of himself.

She grabbed her shampoo and conditioner from the counter and set it on a shelf in the shower, ensured towels were nearby, and stepped into the tub. At least the bottom of the porcelain was textured so she wouldn’t slip; her hands cuffed, she might not be able to grasp something in time to stop her fall. That was all she needed, to crack her head and die while being protected from someone wanting to kill her.

Just as she twisted the taps and water began to run, the bathroom door abruptly opened.

Liliana froze and peered around the pale blue shower curtain as O’Hara stepped into the bathroom. “What the hell—”

He moved to her with purpose, reached past the curtain and grasped her arm. She bit back a yelp of surprise, trying to back up but unable to go far with him holding her. Water soaked over her shoulders as she stepped in the stream, gliding down her skin. She watched as he unlatched one of the cuffs and then folded it over the shower curtain rod above.

She gave the cuffs a tug and the one simply scraped back and forth on the shower rod. “Again, what the hell?”

“I have to go downstairs,” O’Hara said by way of an explanation and he was already heading toward the door, his back to her. “I’ll be back.”

“Goddamn it, O’Hara!”

The door shut again.

Liliana growled in frustration, jerked uselessly against the cuff again. Showering in handcuffs was already going to be a pain in the ass and now she only had one hand she could use.

Fucking asshole
. She tried to focus on the task at hand, getting a hold of the shampoo. If anything got knocked over, she’d have a hell of a time retrieving it.

The bastard had better hurry the hell up with whatever got him running—her arm was already starting to ache.

****

Seven Security was so named because of the seven people who founded it—Mike and six others he knew and trusted. An unoriginal name, perhaps, but he preferred simple over fancy, and it hadn’t hurt business thus far. The company was born from Mike and two of the members leaving their previous place of employment four years earlier, and they hand selected members of the team. Ex-military and police. Lawyer. Former art thief who said lawyer had gotten acquitted of charges. Computer hacker. Criminal psychologist. They covered their bases with all aspects of security so they could take on a variety of clients. Then there was Mike, who was a jack of all trades but master of none, striving to keep a balance so he had an overview of everything and everyone.

Two members of Seven Security were waiting for him in the hotel lobby.

Benji and Belladona were siblings—twins, in fact. Benji, the resident hacker, worked mostly from the company’s office in Midsummer, which meant he most often ended up running errands. His sister had dabbled, nearly finishing training to be a police officer, nearly getting her private investigator license, and even going back to school for random courses, but she’d stuck with the company, thankfully, proving she was capable of committing to at least something.

Benji stood in greeting—he was two inches taller than Mike and imposing with broad shoulders, particularly for a guy whose job didn’t require him to be. But he held himself with caution, always, big shoulders tensed and turned inward, head slightly bowed, like he expected either a sharp word or a blow from anyone he encountered. Still, he smiled—was always smiling—with his lips pulled back to show straight white teeth contrasting dramatically with the dark brown of his skin.

Belladona’s physical presence was entirely the opposite. She was tall and slender but remained seated instead of rising like her brother, and her shoulders were thrown back, chin lifted with confidence and just a touch of defiance no matter who she spoke to. Her black hair was wound up in a knot with a pen tucked through it, exposing an unsmiling face and steady dark eyes that never wavered.

The hotel lobby was small and almost claustrophobic, with plants loaded around thick columns near the reception desk to one side and the couches where his coworkers sat in a small grouping on the other, little space between for foot traffic. But it was also blessedly quiet even for the middle of the day and Mike sat across from Benji and Belladona without worrying they’d be heard. His knees nearly bumped the coffee table between them and Benji noticeably sat at an angle so he wouldn’t suffer the same fate when he folded his large frame down as well.

“How’s the brat?” Belladona asked, at last a smile tugging at her lips.

While Mike hadn’t called Liliana that directly, clearly they’d filled it in based on his description of the job thus far.

“Handcuffed in the shower,” he replied. “So about as expected.”

She snickered while Benji shook his head.

Belladona shifted forward in her seat and withdrew an inch-thick file folder from the messenger bag sitting on the floor next to her. She set it on the coffee table and spun it to face Mike. “News is not great.”

He didn’t think it would be, not after their conversation yesterday around the time Liliana stole his shoes and ran. Benji had picked up some chatter that there was news about the Hartleys, none of it good, and Mike had directed them to dig up everything they could. Today they insisted on coming here directly to speak with him instead of passing it by phone, which wasn’t a good sign.

He opened the folder and drew in a sharp breath.

Photographs rested on the top of the pile. Full color glossies showing gruesome images from a murder scene. Blood was bright and thick, in a huge pool with a man lying in the center of it. His limbs were twisted at odd angles, fingers clearly broken, and dark purple bruises covered his face and torso. He’d been tortured before being murdered.

“Officer Murphy was one of the cops assigned to Liliana White’s surveillance and protection,” Belladona filled in.

Son of a bitch
. Mike swallowed dryly and flipped through the next few pictures. More photos of the body. And then photos of a
different
body. This one had burn marks as well as blood snaking down from an open mouth, a handful of teeth on the floor next to his head.

“Officer Carson,” she continued. “Murphy’s partner. Also assigned to Liliana White.”

Mike cycled through the remaining photos—there were two more bodies and he didn’t need Belladona’s commentary to know why they were included in the folder. All were tortured by someone who likely knew what they were doing. All murdered afterward.

A stack of files were beneath the photos but Mike left them for the moment, sitting back and running his head over his face. “This isn’t the Hartleys.”

“Not directly,” Benji said. “But the chatter I’ve heard suggests hired help is in town and given the mess here, I think it’s pretty clear they did the hiring.”

“The Huntsman,” Bellandona said.

“Huntsman?” Name wasn’t ringing a bell for Mike.

“Contract killer. Particularly brutal, as you can see. So nicknamed because he
hunts
his targets. He’s focused, relentless, and sometimes uses a bow and arrow, so that’s a fun change of pace.”

“He’s never worked this area before.” Benji leaned back in his seat and seemed to be deliberately looking at everything but the photos on the table. He saw plenty of gruesome things in their line of work but wouldn’t seek it out and stare if he didn’t have to, Mike knew. “Crosses country borders easily. No one has a name or a description on him. Sometimes he leaves bodies, like this, to leave a message. Other times he’s a ghost.”

“I’d guess his reasoning for going after the cops and previous private security is twofold,” Belladona said, raising her hand to count off on her fingers. “One, as you probably guessed, he is torturing them for info on Liliana White’s location. She is his ultimate target.”

Thankfully, no one but Jann knew of Mike’s involvement now, and his friend would’ve taken precautions to avoid being tied to this. Mike had spoken to temporary private security people at the hotel he’d picked up Liliana’s things from, but he’d used a fake name and fake ID—the disposable kind that couldn’t be traced back to Seven Security. Their hotel bookings were done in a similar fashion and untraceable.

“Second,” she continued, “this is a splashy statement. He’s not hiding what he’s doing—he’s making sure it gets back to whoever has White now. He’s trying to spook you out.”

Mike couldn’t argue with her assessment—it seemed about right. The Huntsman was no doubt very good at what he did and any further moves would have to be done with extreme caution.

“Kristof thinks this is serious and we should all be here to help,” Benji said, indicating another member of the company’s staff. “The more people on this the better.”