Black Ice (Ice 1)

“I’m not the one who wants to kill you,” she whispered.

“Maybe not today,” he replied with a faint smile. “At least that’s a change from our usual relationship.” He kissed her, lightly, and then pushed her away.

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything more, to ask more questions. He couldn’t be sorry he told her—if he died he’d regret that he’d held that back from her. She didn’t believe him. He didn’t know if he was relieved or annoyed. She probably believed it was his soft heart that made him lie to her and tell her that he loved her. Even after the days they’d spent together, the things she’d seen him do, she still thought he was capable of kind lies. When kindness had no part of his being, and lies were only to get what he wanted.

They dressed quickly, in the dark. He couldn’t tell if the sky was beginning to turn light—sunrise was sometime after six, but before long it would soon be spreading over the hilly countryside. He wondered if the snow had stopped. Monique would want to be in and out before the full light of dawn, and he could tell they were nearby. Not by any kind of proof, just his instincts at full force.

He’d left the light on in the hall—the usual light an absent house owner would leave to scare off burglars. It went out, and a moment later he heard the muffled explosion with a kind of cold satisfaction.

“They’re here,” he said. “And they should be down one.”

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t see her in the newly minted darkness, but he recognized the faint thread of fear in her voice, one she was trying to hide from him.

“I sabotaged the security system. I knew they were going to try to cut the power, but whoever actually did it isn’t going to survive to do anything more. Which leaves Monique and four others at most.”

She didn’t ask him how he knew that—she accepted it. If she continued being that unnaturally docile then they might have a fighting chance.

She was dressed in that shapeless outfit again, and yet he could see the clean, strong lines of her body beneath the soft fleece as if he could see through cloth. No woman should look that sexy in sweat clothes. No woman should look that sexy when people were trying very hard to kill him.

There was another muffled explosion, and the bright glow sent a rosy shadow into the room. He could see her face again, the doubt and worry that he wanted to kiss away. “What was that?”

“The guest house. Their information is top of the line—they’d know you were supposed to be there, and they would have gone there first. I’m hoping it took at least one more of them, but I can’t count on that.”

“The guest house is burning?” she said, moving toward the window. “Everything I care about is in there….”

He caught her around the waist, pulling her back into the shadows. Monique and her cohorts would be stationed around the house, watching the windows for any sign of occupation. It wouldn’t take much to tip them off. “Things can be replaced,” he said. “I need to go.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “You need to go? You’re leaving me?”

“You’ll just hold me back. You’re going to need to hide while I go hunting. I can work better if I don’t have to worry about you at the same time. If I succeed I’ll come back for you.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then, my sweet, au revoir. I’ll be going straight to hell, and I don’t expect to see you there,” he said, his voice light.

“Then you’re not leaving me.”

He should have known that was coming. She was fully dressed except for her shoes, and she had a stubborn expression on her face, and he knew that

he had one chance and one chance only of keeping her alive.

In the shadowy darkness of the bedroom it was easy enough for him to pick up the supplies he’d stashed there earlier. He knew her better than she knew herself, knew she’d object, and he was ruthless enough to do what needed to be done. He came up to her in the darkness, and for the first time she didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. She would kiss him if he asked her to, she would take her clothes back off and lie down on the bed once more, and he only wished life could be that simple. But it never was.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, cupping her face with one hand. Slapping the duct tape over her mouth before she had any idea what was happening, capturing her hands as they flew up to fight him, wrapping the rope around them. She was struggling now, but he was much bigger and stronger than she was, and he had her down on the floor, tying her quickly, efficiently despite her struggles. He didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were blazing with fury. Maybe it would help her get over him. Especially when she was faced with the worst part of this.

He hauled her upright, and she tried to hit him with her bound hands, but it threw her off balance, and he caught her before she fell. He should have just hit her, knocked her out, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her again. Even if, in fact, it would have been a kindness.

“Don’t fight me, Chloe,” he whispered in her ear. “I have no choice. When I’m finished with them I’ll set you free. Either that, or someone will find you before long. As long as it’s not Monique.”

She wasn’t in the mood to listen, and he didn’t expect it. He picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and left the room, nothing more than a shadow on the edge of dawn.

She’d stopped fighting, a small grace, until she began to realize where he was taking her. Down two flights of stairs, into the pitch-dark confines of the basement. He could feel the tremors begin to run through her body as the claustrophobia took hold once more, but he ignored it. There was always a price to be paid, and when he opened the crawl space he’d broken into earlier that day her struggles became so fierce that he could no longer hold her, and she fell onto the concrete floor with a muffled cry.

He couldn’t afford to waste time with gentleness. He pushed her into the tiny crawl space—there was just enough room for her, none for him, but he could touch her, put his hand on her cold, damp forehead, run his thumb against her temple in a useless, soothing gesture. “It’s the best I could come up with, Chloe,” he whispered. “Close your eyes and don’t think about the darkness. Think about how you’re going to kick my ass when you get out of here.”

She was trembling, and he doubted she even heard his words. He could see just enough to know her eyes were wide with panic, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Instead he leaned down and put his lips against the silver tape that covered her mouth, a strange, muffled kiss that he couldn’t resist. And for a moment her shaking stilled, and she leaned toward him, into the kiss.