Ice Storm (Ice 4)

“Don’t you want to know what happened to me?” she said abruptly. “The last time you saw me I tried to kill you. That’s not what you would have expected from the stupid girl you drove around France with.”

He glanced at her. “All right, I’ll bite. What happened to you?”

“I shot you, and I ran out of the warehouse.”

“That much I remember.” He didn’t sound particularly interested, and she realized in his scheme of things it had been only a minor incident.

“You killed Etienne Matanga, didn’t you?”

“That was my job.”

“And you were going to kill me if I hadn’t shot you.”

“If you say so. But apparently you got away scot-free.”

“Not exactly. Your friends caught up with me.”

“Did they?” He sounded barely curious.

“Yes,” she said. “They did. They

were very good with knives, and they were very unhappy with me. I remember thinking I was going to die, and not caring.”

“Such a very sad story. I expect you never made the mistake of falling in love with a mysterious stranger again.”

“I didn’t fall in love!” she snapped. “You used me.”

“You enjoyed being used.”

“You drugged me.”

He shrugged. “Once we got to Marseille I wanted to hedge my bets. I couldn’t afford to have you showing up in the middle of my job. Trust me, you would have done anything I told you to by that point. I just figured drugging you would make things a little easier.”

She had a flash of memory; his hands holding her down, hot, wicked words in the darkness, as his mouth…

“Your friends left me for dead, lying in a pool of blood in a slum alleyway. If it hadn’t been for a Good Samaritan, that would have been the end of me.”

“How touching. I’m glad there are still good people in this world. So who was this Good Samaritan who saved your life?”

“I don’t know. When I woke I was in a bed, covered with bandages. I was in such pain he kept me unconscious as much as he could.”

“Your savior?”

“My doctor. My husband. He was a plastic surgeon with a slightly shady clientele. He kept me hidden, rebuilt my face, rebuilt my life. And married me.”

“Charming,” Killian said, his voice cool. “Fairy tales do come true, after all. You should thank me for hooking you up with your true love.”

“I should thank whoever knew the French underworld enough to dump me on his doorstep,” she said. “Unfortunately, Stephan had no idea who had brought me there.”

“Quel dommage,” Killian murmured.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out of the blue, and she would love to bite back the words.

“Unfortunately for you, you didn’t know what you were doing. You winged me, and I decided I’d just stay down. I’m sure you’re much better at it nowadays. Killing requires experience and expertise.”

“I have both.”

“Yes,” he said.