Page 107 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
I didn’t bother asking questions. Tears welled in my eyes. Maybe it was silly to be upset about missing Christmas when I had much bigger and probably life-threatening problems. But I couldn’t help it. The sudden realization that I was zip-tied ina car headed who knows where on Christmas Eve and might not make it home in time for Christmas with my niece was devastating.
Or maybe my brain focused on the holiday as a means of keeping my sanity, considering it was possible I wasn’t going to make it home at all.
I felt the car turn, and the back end slid. Wincing, I sat up and looked out the windows. Heavy snow fell all around us, and I had no idea where we were. There was nothing but snow and the faint outline of trees.
We climbed a hill, and the trees encroached on either side. Where were we? Not on the highway or any of the main roads. There was hardly enough room for one car to pass through.
Finally, a single light came into view up ahead. Julian slowed, and when he stopped, I could see the vague shape of a house or cabin through the swirling snow.
Without a word, Julian held up the gun—a clear threat. He got out and opened the door, pointing it at me.
Staring down my imminent death, I scooted across the seat. With my ankles tied, I wasn’t going to be able to walk—especially in the snow. Still holding the gun, he manhandled me onto his shoulder.
Pain from my car accident injuries exploded through me. The wind whipped through my hair and stung my cheeks as he carried me to the cabin. His shoulder dug into my stomach, but I refused to make a sound. Although I was terrified and in pain—who wouldn’t have been—something else bloomed inside me.
Defiance.
Screw that pompous ass. He was not going to take me out.
He opened the door and went inside. It was slightly warmer out of the storm, but not much.
“About time,” a man’s voice said.
Julian set me on my feet and gestured with the gun for me to sit in a threadbare armchair. I sank down, my gaze darting around.
The rustic cabin was small—just one open room with what was probably a bathroom at the back. The walls and floor were wood, with a few mismatched rugs strewn around, and several pairs of old snowshoes hung on the wall. A black wood stove stood in the tiny kitchen area, and a four-poster king-size bed took up much of the space.
“In case you didn’t notice, the weather is shit,” Julian said.
The second man stood with his hands casually clasped behind his back, looking out a paned glass window. He was dressed all in black, from his ski jacket to his boots, and the way they fit made them look sleek and expensive.
He turned, and his eyes swept over me. Nothing in his expression changed, but something about his gaze made my skin crawl.
“Which is why time is of the essence,” he replied, still looking at me.
“I don’t know what you expect,” Julian said, irritation plain in his tone. “I had to wait for an opportunity and improvise the hell out of it. I got lucky when they went in that shop and the back door was unlocked.”
The other man came closer. He reached out, and I flinched when he touched my chin, angling my face to the side.
“You hit her.”
“Look, if you could have done a better job, you should have done it yourself.”
The man’s eyes flashed with anger, but when he spoke, his voice was even. “Let’s not forget that she’s here because of you. This is your fault.”
Julian’s jaw tightened, and it took him a second to reply. “No. It’s her fault.”
“Have it your way.” He waved his hand as if the issue was no longer important.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Where are my manners?” He took my bound hands and lifted my fingers to his lips. “Archer Prince.”
I snatched my hands away. Archer Prince? The art thief Jensen had been hunting?
He scrutinized me again and seemed to come to a decision. He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a pocketknife.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing these. You’re not going anywhere in that storm.” He crouched and cut through the zip ties at my ankles, then freed my wrists. “And if you try, I’ll just kill you.”
