Chill Factor - Page 76

Ignoring that, she said, “Up on the crest yesterday afternoon, you were doing something you wanted done before the storm. Disposing of the body, perhaps? Digging Millicent’s grave?”

Again, the skin seemed to stretch tightly across his features. “After sleeping a couple feet away from me last night, you actually believe that only hours before I was digging a grave?”

Not wanting to think about her misjudgment and vulnerability last night, she tightened her grip on the pistol. “Pick up the handcuffs.”

He hesitated, then bent down and picked them up.

“Put the bracelet around your right wrist first.”

“You’re making a dreadful mistake.”

“If I am, you’ll spend an uncomfortable afternoon, and it’ll piss you off. If I’m right, and you are Blue, I’ll be saving my life. Given the choice, I’d rather piss you off.” She raised the pistol a fraction. “Lock the bracelet around your right wrist. Now.”

Ponderous seconds ticked by. Finally, he did as she asked. “In case the cabin catches on fire, or you start to suffocate from an asthma attack, do you have the key handy?”

“In my pocket. But I won’t be releasing you until help arrives.”

“Which could take days. Can you survive that long without your medication?”

“That’s for me to worry about.”

“I worry about it, too, goddammit.” His voice had turned harsh, husky. “I care what happens to you, Lilly. I thought my kiss would have conveyed that.”

Her heart tripped over a few beats, but she ignored the flutter. “Get on the box springs and put your right arm through the ironwork of the headboard.” Supported by a frame of sturdy wood, the decorative wrought iron had spaces wide enough for him to reach through.

“When I kissed you—”

“I’m not going to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Get on the box spring, Tierney.”

“You were as shaken by that kiss as I was.”

“I’m warning you, if you don’t—”

“Because it satisfied our curiosity and then some. I’d fantasized kissing you, but it—”

“Get on the box spring.”

“It was a million times better than my fantasies of it.”

“This is your last warning.”

“I am not handcuffing myself to that headboard!” he shouted angrily.

“And I’m not asking again.”

“You lay there last night for a long time before going to sleep, didn’t you? I knew you were awake. You knew I was. We were thinking about the same thing. About that kiss and wishing—”

“Shut up or I’m going to shoot you!”

“—that we hadn’t stopped there.”

She pulled the trigger. The bullet smacked into the wall, coming close enough for him to have felt the movement of air against his cheek. He looked more shocked than afraid.

“I’m good,” she told him. “The next shot counts.”

Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery
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