“You’re very pretty.” The man stood in front of her, his eyes traveling her body in a stare she could almost feel.
She chanced a quick glance at Stephen and saw he had one eye open. He winked at her. He had a plan. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew what she had to do. She had to keep the man’s attention focused on her long enough that Stephen could do what he needed to do. If they were going to survive this, then there was only one way to do it. Together.
“P-please let him g-go,” she stammered, wanting to make herself as weak and vulnerable as she could—not that it was hard. She was weak and vulnerable, but she wanted to play it up, so her begging would have a greater effect. She knew without having to be told that begging turned this man on.
“Why would I do a thing like that?”
“P-please, I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just let him go.” She tried to read his eyes to see if her words were having any effect, but she couldn’t tell—it was like he was dead inside.
“Anything, huh? Since I have you strung up and ready to be used at my discretion.” He paused and reached out a hand to trace his fingertips across her lips, then forced a finger between her teeth, sliding it all the way to the back of her throat and making her gag. “What else can you give me?” The cock of his eyebrow clearly indicated that there was something else beside his fingers he wanted to put in her mouth.
Paisley forced herself not to shudder in revulsion and abject terror and prayed that she hadn’t imagined that Stephen was awake and up to something. She met her kidnapper’s eyes and said, “I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll let him go.”
“Why would you sacrifice yourself for him? Is he your boyfriend?” The man looked genuinely interested, as though he were trying to figure out how and why regular human beings did things.
“He’s not my boyfriend, but he saved me, and he risked his life to search for me in the snow. I have to do whatever it takes to save him.” While Paisley meant every word of what she’d just said, she knew that even if Stephen weren’t biding his time to strike and really was out cold, this man would never accept her bargain. Not that that would have prevented her from trying.
The man shrugged like what she had said made no sense whatsoever to him. But he pulled a key out of his pocket. “Maybe we can make some sort of arrangement,” he said and reached up to unlock the shackle around her left wrist.
The sudden rush of pain in her injured shoulder as her right arm took the weight of her entire body made her cry out. She gasped and tried to catch her breath and get her feet back underneath her.
She was so distracted that the gunshot caught her by surprise.
It sounded so loud.
The sound seemed to suck all the air from the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stephen moved slowly.
Cautiously.
Paisley was doing a fantastic job of keeping Raymond's attention firmly focused on her, but any little slip up on his part and they’d both wind up tortured and then dead.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was the man that Paisley had seen standing in the middle of the road holding a human head. And he had no doubt that Raymond had indeed been holding a human head.
The man may look like some sweet old grandfather, but he was anything but.
If this didn't work, the only way he and Paisley would be leaving this room would be in pieces.
And he was not going to let that happen.
When Raymond stuck his fingers down Paisley’s throat and made innuendos about what else he wanted to stick down there, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to launch himself at the man and rip him to shreds with his bare hands. But Raymond had a knife, and it would only take one slice to cut one of Paisley’s major arteries, leaving her to bleed out in minutes. And Stephen was pretty sure he had a concussion. The blow Raymond had delivered to his head had knocked him out. His vision was still blurry, and his head spun like his brain was riding the roller coaster from hell.
But he wouldn’t stop.
Saving Paisley was all that mattered to him.
No other woman brought out this fierce protective side in him. Sure, he was a cop and protecting people went with the job, but that was it. It was his job. This was different. This was personal. So, he wasn't going to do anything to mess it up.
When Stephen reached the table, he didn't hesitate.
He picked up the gun.
He took the shot.
Hit his target between the eyes.
Raymond dropped.
Paisley cried out in pain.
Panic sliced through him.
Had he hit her as well?
He struggled to get to his feet and swayed so much he thought he’d fall straight back down.
It was only fear for Paisley that kept him standing and helped him cross the distance between them.
“Shh, I got you,” he murmured as he wrapped one arm around her waist and took her weight.
“Stephen?” She clawed at him with her free hand, trying to drag him closer but only succeeding in making both of them nearly lose their balance.
“Right here,” he assured her. “Are you hit?”
“N-no, I don’t think so,” she said, leaning into him. She was trembling, and her forehead brushed against his chin, her skin hot and sweaty.
“Okay, I’m going to let you go just for a moment so I can get the key.” Her face was pale, but her cheeks flushed pink. Her infection was getting worse. She needed a doctor. Now.
“I was scared that you were dead.” Big, round tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks. “Are you okay? Your head, it’s bleeding.” Now that it was over, she was teetering on the edge of hysteria and shock. He couldn’t blame her. He was a cop, trained to face dangerous situations, and he felt about a hairsbreadth away from losing control. If he didn't have Paisley to worry about, he just might have.
“Shh, sweetheart.” He rested his forehead against hers and felt her tears drip down onto his chin. “I'm okay. Right now I'm more worried about you. I need to get you down, okay? Can you stand just for a moment, while I get the key to unlock these cuffs?”
“You need to lie down; you might have a concussion,” she said. He might be more worried about her than he was about himself, and it seemed the feeling was mutual.
“Paisley,” he murmured. She was quite endearingly exasperating, but right now he needed her to listen. He didn't just want to let go of her because the pressure was already on her bad arm and he didn't want to make it worse.
Keeping one arm firmly around her waist, he cupped her face in his other hand and kissed her lightly on the lips. At least he had intended the kiss to be light, but Paisley immediately deepened it, her tongue pushing its way into his mouth, as though she needed physical reassurance that they were both alive.
When they finally broke away, they were both panting. What he wouldn’t give to have her home and in his bed this second, naked, with him buried so deep inside her she’d never be able to forget what he felt like.
This woman was his, and he wasn't ever letting her go.
“Sweetheart,” he tilted her face so her eyes met his. “I’m letting go of you for a moment to get the key,” he said for the third time.
This time she nodded her understanding and balanced herself back on her tiptoes. She couldn’t hide her wince of pain, but she didn't complain.
This woman was amazing. She fought and fought, and when the odds were stacked so firmly against her that most people would have thrown in the towel, she fought even harder.
Stephen released her slowly, then as soon as he was sure she had enough strength to hold herself up for the few seconds it would take to retrieve the key from where it had landed when he shot Raymond, he let her go. The key had skidded across the floor, and he quickly picked it up and used it to unlock the metal cuff around Paisley’s right wrist.
As soon as she was free, she slumped against him, unable to keep holding herself up. He pic
ked her up and swayed under the added weight, not because she was heavy, but because his head was still bothering him.
“You can't carry me,” Paisley protested, trying to get him to put her down. “You’re hurt.”
“Sweetheart, you can't stand; there’s no way you can walk out of here right now. Besides, I’m not letting you go for anything.” He was still dizzy, but Paisley wasn't going to be anywhere other than in his arms right now.
She mustered up a smile for him and tucked her head into his neck. Allowing him to carry her, she held her arms stiffly, and he was sure she was now suffering additional pain as blood flow was restored to her limbs.
Once they were out of the basement, he set her carefully down on the sofa closest to the fire and covered her with a blanket. Then he took hold of her right arm and began to rub it to help get her circulation going again.
He didn't want to ask his next question, but he needed to know. “Are you all right, did he hurt you?” Hurt had so many meanings right now; he saw a small cut on her cheek that hadn’t been there when she’d left his cabin, but he really wanted to know if Raymond had hurt her a different way. A sexual way.
“He didn't rape me if that’s what you mean,” she replied.
That was what he meant, and relief that she hadn’t been violated almost knocked him off his feet.
Paisley was safe. Raymond was dead, but there were still a few things they needed to sort out. Holding her hand, he brought it to his lips and touched a kiss to it, then began to stroke her tangled hair. “Paisley, about the jewelry—”
“Stop.” She lifted a trembling finger and held it to his lips to silence him. “I don’t care. I know there has to be a reason why you have it. I don’t think you’re a killer, Stephen. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry I ran instead of trusting you and everything that you had done for me.”
He just smiled—possibly a little goofily—because he didn't know what else to do. He did know he didn't deserve this woman, but fate had tossed her into his life and who was he to argue with fate?
“Stephen,” Paisley said, her head cocked to the side.
“Yeah?”
“I can't hear the wind.”
She was right. Other than the sounds of the fire crackling and their voices, it was quiet.
Letting her go, he hurried to the door and threw it open.
Outside, the sun was peeking its way over the horizon. The whole world was covered in a thick layer of soft white snow, but it had stopped falling, and the wind had finally stopped its incessant howling.
The storm was over, and they had both survived.
Sometimes miracles really did happen.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She had never hurt so badly in all her life.
And yet ironically, she had never felt this good in all her life.
Paisley hadn't stopped smiling since Stephen had carried her out of Raymond’s basement.
Other than to check outside when she’d said she could no longer hear the wind, he hadn't left her side. With the blizzard over, phone reception had returned, and Stephen had called in reinforcements. Within thirty minutes the house had been buzzing with cops and crime scene technicians and paramedics.
Much to Stephen’s annoyance, she had said no when the EMTs had wanted to take her to the hospital. She didn't want fuss; she had just wanted to go home. So, they had restitched her wound, pumped her full of antibiotics to fight the infection that had taken hold, redressed the cut on her head, and then she’d been free to go.
Stephen might have wanted her to go to the hospital, but when she’d told him he should go, he had flat-out refused. It seemed they might both be as stubborn as the other.
“What are you smiling about?” Stephen asked as the officer driving them home pulled into her driveway.
“Nothing.” She smiled back. She and Stephen liked each other, but they were a long way from being in a relationship of any sort. They didn't even know anything about one another—twelve hours spent battling the elements and a serial killer wasn't the ideal way to start a relationship.
“Thank you,” Stephen said to the officer as the car stopped. “So, I’m not your boyfriend, huh?” he said as he held her hand and helped her out of the car.
“Not yet,” Paisley said slowly.
“Then we better go about changing that.” Stephen scooped her up and carried her inside. Apparently, he still had her purse, and thus her keys. “I like your house; it reminds me of you.”
She giggled and curled her arm tighter around his shoulders. She would never admit it out loud, but she liked it when Stephen just picked her up and carried her about. “You don’t even know me. How can my house remind me of you?”
“It's beautiful, and you’re beautiful,” he replied as he set her down on the huge leather couch—that had cost her three months’ salary—in her lounge room. It was enormous and the most comfortable thing she had ever owned. Now she snuggled down into it. While it had only been twenty-four hours since she’d left, it seemed like forever since she had been home.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She took Stephen’s hand and tugged, pulling him down to sit beside her, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Tell me three things about yourself.” They had to start somewhere. They already knew that they worked well together, they’d saved each other’s life today, and now they got to do the fun part of the relationship. They got to get to know each other, find out what the other liked and disliked, and if they really might be able to fall in love.
Paisley already knew she was close.
Very close.
“Okay.” He entwined their fingers, and she snuggled closer, resting her head on his broad shoulder. “Well, I hate chocolate—”
“You what?” she shrieked in mock horror. “If you mean that, you better leave right now because I am a chocoholic and I cannot even entertain the notion of being with someone who hates chocolate.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he told her, kissing her temple and making her shiver as his warm breath sent a wave of goose pimples over her.
Every time he touched her, she got this funny feeling in her stomach. It was warm, and kind of ticklish, like what she felt for him was too big that it couldn’t stay contained inside her and wanted to get out and make fireworks and rainbows.
“I love the snow, last night notwithstanding, I love cross-country skiing, going snowmobiling, and ice fishing.”
“Ugh.” She curled up her nose. “I hate the snow.”
“Guess I'm batting two for two,” he said and mock grimaced. “I bet I can get you to change your mind about the snow, get you to love it as much as I do.”
“Bet you can't.”
“Bet I can.” He poked his tongue out. “By the end of the winter, I bet you’ll be out there skiing with me and loving every second of it. And three, I, uh, I want a family of my own one day.” He shot her a sly smile.
Paisley giggled again, a sense of peace added to the fluttery feeling inside her. They weren't clones of each other, but she didn't want a clone. She wanted a partner who wanted the same things out of life that she did, and it looked like she’d found it. “Okay, that one we agree on.”
“One out of three isn’t so bad. Your turn.” He looked at her expectantly.
“I love horses. Like, love love them. I own two, and I teach riding lessons. I even help rehabilitate horses that have been mistreated.” She paused to see if he was going to say that he hated horses.
“I've never ridden a horse before, but I'm not opposed to the idea.”
“I love to swim; it’s what I do to keep fit. And I've always wanted to go skydiving.”
“Skydiving? I'd be up for that.”
“No way.” He was the first person she’d ever told that to that hadn't told her she was crazy for wanting to jump out of an airplane and plummet back to earth.
“Yes, way. I'd be willing to go skydiving.”
“Are you just saying that so we’ll have more i
n common?” She arched a suspicious brow.
“You're cute when you do the arching one eyebrow thing,” Stephen told her, leaning down and kissing her lightly on the lips. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer. This was precisely what she’d been wanting to do ever since he had been treating her wounds back at his cabin.
Just one kiss was enough to have her craving more.
Needing more.
“Want to go upstairs?”
“Upstairs? To bed? Did you forget that you have a bullet hole in your shoulder?” Stephen laughed. A real laugh. It was the first one she’d heard from him. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled down at her. “What are you smiling about?”
“Your laugh.”
“My laugh?” He looked confused, but his easy smile was still in place.
“I haven't heard you laugh before. I like it. It transforms you, makes you look so much more relaxed, and kinda sexy.”
“Only kinda sexy?” he teased. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her easily, settling her on his lap so she was straddling him.
She could feel that he was every bit as ready to do more than just talk, but there was something she wanted to say to him first. “It wasn't your fault. With your ex and your old partner.” He’d told her the story while they’d waited for help to show up at the cabin. She hadn't needed to hear it, but she was glad he had shared it with her. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. They're the ones who were in the wrong, and their deaths were just accidents. You tried to save her, even after everything she’d done.”
The smile he gave her was a sad one. Maybe he wasn't quite ready to let go of his guilt, but he would in time. And they had time. Because what they had been through together was so intense it felt like they had known each other for years instead of hours.
“I have something for you.” Stephen reached into his pocket and pulled out something gold and shiny. Her charm bracelet. It must have fallen off somewhere. She hadn't even realized it was missing, but she was so glad he’d found it. It had been a gift from her parents when she turned eighteen, and every year they added a new charm to it. Every single one on there held a special memory—losing it would have been devastating. While it was technically replaceable, in a way, it wasn't.
Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 94
