“You wouldn’t kill me.”
“If I take out your kneecap, you’ll wish I had. Get on the bed,” she said, enunciating each word.
Regarding her with renewed respect, he backed up until his calves made contact with the box spring. He sat down and scooted backward on his butt. She knew his grimaces of pain must be genuine, but she didn’t let them weaken her resolve. When he reached the headboard, he hooked his right hand through the iron fretwork.
“Now lock the other ring around your left wrist.”
“Lilly, I beg you not to make me do this.”
She said nothing, just stared at him down the short barrel of the pistol until he relented and fastened the bracelet around his left wrist. “Pull down on them hard, so I can see that they’re locked.”
He gave several hard tugs, rattling metal against metal. He was secured.
Lilly’s arms dropped to her sides as though they weighed a thousand pounds. She slumped against the wall behind her and slid down it until her bottom reached the floor. She rested her head against her raised knees. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how terribly cold she was. Or perhaps she was shaking with fear.
She was afraid her assumption that he was Blue was right. And equally afraid it was wrong. By keeping Tierney handcuffed to the headboard, she could be dooming herself to death by suffocation.
No. She refused to contemplate anything except survival. Dying was not an option. Death had cheated her daughter out of a long life. She’d be damned before i
t cheated her, too.
After a few moments, she pushed herself to her feet. Without even a glance toward Tierney, she went into the living room.
“You need to bring in more firewood while you still have the strength,” he called to her.
She refused to engage in conversation with him, but that had been exactly what she was thinking. The leather of her boots was damp and cold, but she worked her feet into them regardless of the discomfort.
Tierney’s watch cap was crisp with dried blood, but it was handier than dealing with the bulky stadium blanket for head covering. She pulled the cap down over her ears and as low as her eyebrows. She also used his scarf to wrap around her throat and the lower half of her face. Her cashmere-lined gloves were inadequate against such brutally cold temperatures, but they were better than nothing.
When she was ready, she approached the door.
Watching her from the bedroom, he said, “For godsake, Lilly, let me do this for you. You can hold me at gunpoint the whole time. I don’t care. Just let me do it.”
“No.”
“That cold air—”
“Be quiet.”
“Christ,” he swore. “Don’t leave the porch. Move the logs inside before you start splitting them.”
Sound advice. He had excellent survival skills. Was he as good at getting women to trust him? she wondered. Evidently so. Five had trusted him. Actually six, counting herself.
The interior of the cabin was cold, but nothing compared with outside. The cold air slashed her exposed cheekbones. She had to keep her eyes narrowed to slits. The tarpaulin Tierney had placed over the stack of firewood was covered with several inches of snow that had been blown beneath the overhang.
She reached beneath it and dragged a log off the top of the stack. It was so heavy it slipped from her hands and banged against the floor of the porch, narrowly missing her toe. Awkwardly, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms while she opened the door. She carried it inside, shutting the door with her foot.
She placed the log on the hearth, then paused, inhaling deeply through her mouth in an attempt to fill her lungs, trying to convince herself that breathing was easy.
“Lilly, are you all right?”
She tried to tune him out and concentrate on forcing air through her constricting bronchial tubes.
“Lilly?”
His alarm sounded sincere. The handcuffs rattled against the wrought iron as he pulled against it. She moved away from the hearth and stepped into his line of sight. “Stop yelling at me. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are.”