by Asha King
A backpack was slung over one shoulder and she was quite certain she didn’t want to know what kind of tools he carried.
Why hasn’t he shot me yet? This was it—he’d found her. She should be dead already.
“O’Hara, how about you sit on the floor by the bed.”
“How about I don’t.”
The Huntsman gave his eyes a dramatic roll. “Here’s the thing: I don’t actually have to kill you. If you’re collateral damage, that’s fine. Self-defence, that’s fine. But I am not paid any extra to ensure your death, and as I generally prefer to get paid for murder, I’m not a fan of freebies. The car bomb would’ve taken out both of you but I’m kind of glad it didn’t go that way. You start killing people for free and everyone expects it, and that’s bad business. I’d prefer to let you live. I’m not particularly attached to the idea, however. It’s your choice.”
God, she couldn’t bear to see O’Hara killed on top of everything else. “Please do it,” she whispered.
“See? Listen to the lady. She’s a bright one.” He tipped his head at O’Hara again. “Get going...nuh-uh, not by the nightstand,” he interrupted Mike’s steps, “but by the foot of the bed. There.” His gaze moved to Liliana’s. “I notice some handcuffs on the floor. Why don’t you make yourself useful and cuff your bodyguard’s wrists through the bars there. Nice and tight, dearie.”
She scanned the floor and found them, lying a few feet from the bed. Her gaze flickered to the gun but she’d never reach it in time, and that was even taking into consideration she might not fire it right to begin with. So she did as she was told, picked up the handcuffs and moved toward O’Hara.
He crouched by the foot of the bed, eyes never wavering from the Huntsman, color at last returning to his face but this time in the form of anger. He let her lift his wrist and snap one cuff around it, then the other after she’d fed the chain through the bars. She suspected he could still move the bed easily, as there wasn’t much to it, but he couldn’t slip the cuffs off and there would be no sneaking toward the gun.
For a moment, she let her fingers linger against his, and while he still stared at their assailant, he squeezed her hand back.
Liliana stood, squared her shoulders, and faced the Huntsman and his gun. “Why didn’t you just shoot me when I opened the door?”
“I could have, if I deemed it necessary, but my paycheck has a bonus if I make you suffer.” He’d finished his apple and tossed the core over his shoulder back outside. His hand now free, he pulled back his coat and withdrew a hunting knife. “I am to bring your heart to my employer. Flare for the dramatic, that one.”
Her knees wobbled, sudden fear threatening to drop her on her ass. Her gaze stuck on the blade of the knife, unable to look away, terrified at the thought of it slicing into her. God, it was so much worse than she’d expected, even worse than the thought of Jimmy’s hands on her throat.
“You touch her and I will kill you.” O’Hara’s voice was smooth and even, eyes serious, expression stony. His gaze was focused on the Huntsman.
“I don’t do threats, O’Hara. Sorry.” The Huntsman gestured at Liliana. “Come now, dearie. You don’t want him to have to watch this, do you?”
Cold fear sliced through her and trembling spilled down Liliana’s limbs. She took a step forward, then another. Each one pushed her farther from O’Hara, farther from safety, and as much as she didn’t want that, the Huntsman was right.
She didn’t want Mike to have to watch what was going to happen to her.
“I’ll double whatever the Hartleys paid you,” O’Hara said suddenly.
“You are not the first to offer me that, friend, and you won’t be the last. Unfortunately, it’s bad business as well.”
“I’ll triple it.”
“For me to break a business arrangement, it would really have to be worth my while.”
“Quadruple it.”
He snorted. “You can’t afford that.”
“Try me.”
The Huntsman’s eyes narrowed on O’Hara. Considering. Weighing.
Liliana remained motionless to the side, her gaze darting between them.
“Knowing you’re flexible would end up being good for business,” Mike continued. “You can charge higher rates.”
“Thank you so much for the business advice, Mr. O’Hara, but—”
“Five times whatever they’re paying you.”
The Huntsman tilted his head toward Liliana. “It is likely several times what you’re even getting paid for this job. She worth it?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. He didn’t even blink. Just: yes.
“Interesting. But I still don’t think you can afford it.”
“Wire transfer. Right now. My phone is in my pocket.”
The Huntsman’s dark eyes moved from O’Hara to Liliana, then he nodded. “Retrieve the phone, dearie.”
Her heart beat hard and her hands were trembling with fear, but she managed to do as he asked. Though she looked to O’Hara for direction when she crouched by him, he gave her nothing. Just indicated where to find the cell phone, and sure enough, there it was.
“There are no bars in here—we have to go outside the cabin,” Mike said.
“Give her the account information and we’ll do it.” A little smirk suggested he was calling O’Hara’s attempt to get free, and knew the money was just a bluff.
Instead of taking a different tactic, Mike turned to Liliana and repeated a string of numbers and letters. “Banking app on my phone. That’s the account you want. Repeat it for me.”
She did so, three times, scarcely sure of how she was even retaining the information but the numbers seemed locked in her head. Still she didn’t rise, her gaze moving between his eyes. “He could take me out there, kill me, and still keep your money. This is stupid.”
He ignored her concern. “Repeat them one more time.”
She did and O’Hara nodded.
Liliana rose and stepped toward the Huntsman. Between the knife and the gun, she didn’t know where to look, so instead opted for his face.
His lips were quirked into a grin, as if he found it all extremely amusing. “After you.”
She stepped through the chilly open doorway first, the cell phone held out in front of her. NO SIGNAL flashed at the top so she kept going, off the porch and through the snow, shivering despite the addition of the plaid shirt.
“You’re going to kill me anyway,” she said softly.
“I like money, Miss White. A lot. I have many uses for it. My loyalty can be bought. But I highly doubt he has that much money at his disposal, so yes, I am probably going to kill you.”
The phone still didn’t produce a signal. If it didn’t soon, he’d probably call the ruse and cut her heart out. She moved a few more feet, raising the phone to check.
At last a bar popped up and she sighed with relief. She found his banking app, typed in the password, and located the account he indicated. Her eyes bugged at the sight of his balance—Jesus, he really was loaded. She wasn’t sure she could even count that high. “Okay, I’m in. What’s your account number?”
The Huntsman slipped the phone from her grip, his gloved hands moving much more swiftly than her frozen bare ones, and quickly keyed in his information. She didn’t see the gun anymore but the knife was sheathed openly at his side, a threat even when he wasn’t holding it. “And off it goes, in theory, to a nice bank account in the Cayman Islands.” He handed back the phone and swung his backpack off his shoulder. “Let’s see if that went through.”
It was odd, watching him casually unzip the knapsack, his expression bright and carefree. The man was a coldblooded killer who had murdered five people in the past few days, even planted a bomb in their car, threatened to cut out her heart. But otherwise he seemed...normal.
“Here. You might want these.” He tossed a bundle of wool at her—a hat, which she pulled on immediately, pair of gloves, and then a black nylon jacket. Her jacket, which she frowned at. She shrugged
the coat on and checked the pockets, finding her own cell phone in one and purchased battery in the other—O’Hara hadn’t known about those and didn’t take them away once he’d found her on the bus.
With the outerwear out of the way, the Huntsman retrieved another apple, which he tossed to the snow at her feet. “Eat that if you’re hungry.”
She got the gloves over her hands, then lifted the apple. Bright red, glistening. She didn’t take a bite, still watching the Huntsman as he finally located his cell phone.
“It’s not poison, see?” He leaned forward, took a bite of the apple, and chewed. Then his focus shifted to his phone.
“So you brought me my jacket from the motel, and gloves and food because this will help you cut my heart out how, exactly?” She took a tentative bite of the apple. Sweet juices flowed into her mouth and in that moment she didn’t give a damn if it was poison or not—she was too hungry.
“I sort of fibbed a bit back there,” he admitted. “Yes, I’m to retrieve your heart, but someone wants to be there for it. Twisted bitch, that one.”
Elise Hartley. Jimmy was an asshole but the cruelty sounded more like his mother.
“So we were going to have a bit of a walk ahead of us and I knew you’d left everything back in the room last night. But...” He grinned at her and shut off his phone, stuffing it in his back pocket. “Looks like that’s no longer the case.”
She stared at him. “The bank transfer worked?”
“Indeed it did. And I am a man of my word: my loyalty can be bought, and it has just been purchased for most of the money in O’Hara’s possession.”
“And what if the Hartleys counter that?”
“I do know their finances, actually, and can assure you they most definitely can’t afford that. Not without selling all their assets and losing the lawyers on retainer. They would try to cheat me. I don’t like people who do that. So you’re off the hook, dearie. At least with me.” He patted the top of her head, smooshing the hat over her eyes. “Have fun. At least until they catch up with you themselves.”
He slung the backpack over his shoulder again and started trudging in the opposite direction of the cabin.
Liliana blinked after him. “Wait, do you know where they are?”
He waved one arm idly without looking back. “The son, yes. Around town somewhere. They know you know people in the area—I gave them inventory from the motel room. Give it time, he’ll find you. He’s looking. And if I wasn’t so expensive, he would have paid extra to have the bodyguard killed—he wasn’t thrilled about that.”
“How much does he know about O’Hara?” she asked warily.
“Enough to be jealous you’re shacked up with a man for several days. O’Hara scooped you up, out of his grasp. He’s got quite a hate on for your bodyguard.”
Shit. The last thing they needed on top of all this was Jimmy getting some idea of vengeance in his head. Wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he got fixated on her again, despite them no longer being a couple, and taking it out on O’Hara.”
“My work is done here, though. So good luck, dearie.”
Liliana thought over everything he’d said, scrambling to put pieces together.
Inventory...?
Gina and Mike’s friend. Damn it, what was her husband’s name? She didn’t know, it wasn’t worth searching the phone to find—she just ran back to the cabin.
O’Hara was where she’d left him on the floor, body coiled and tense like he would take someone’s head off if he was free. His eyes widened when she trudged back inside.
“Fuck, you’re alive.” He breathed out a heavy breath, shoulders slumping.
“It worked,” she said in a rush. “It worked, he let me go. But the Hartleys are in town. Remember Gina brought us stuff, the labels on her box of food?”
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Yeah.” She located the bobby pin and handed it to him, waited while he unlocked the cuffs and stood before handing him his phone.
He grabbed the gun off the nightstand and gave her a warning look. “Stay here.”
She nodded and sat on the bed to wait while he headed out to make the call, hardly believing they’d just come out of that alive. But the Hartleys were left to be dealt with and she didn’t think they’d be so easily swayed by money.
Elise had wanted her heart. And to be there when it was cut out.
Liliana shivered despite the added warm clothes she’d been given and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Mike’s return.
Chapter Thirteen
Liliana sat huddled by the fire, the battery back in her phone so she could check messages. Several texts from Jimmy waited—new ones from the past two days, since he’d gone missing. She didn’t recognize the number he’d contacted her from, but there was no doubt they were from him.
wtf is this, lil? And he’d forwarded a photo the Huntsman must’ve snapped. Outside the old motel, Liliana and O’Hara looking like they were hand in hand at the door accepting Chinese food. In truth they were cuffed, but hiding that fact from the delivery man.
They looked...cozy. Liliana leaning into him to hide their cuffed wrists, O’Hara with that fake friendly smile as he took care of exchanging money while she accepted the food with her free hand.
Her stomach twisted. The Huntsman had likely sent it as proof that his target had been found with the bodyguard; Jimmy had twisted it into something else entirely.
The next text: Call me soon, babe. I dont like this.
Then another an hour later: cmon Lil. I don’t know who he is but u know u i’ll find u.
The final one was from an hour ago: I will find him and u.
Fuck, she thought, popping the battery once more out of her shitty old cell and stuffing the separated pieces in her pockets before O’Hara got back. This wasn’t just going to end with her now, not if Jimmy was all fixated on O’Hara as well.
O’Hara had left the door open so there was no surprise this time when she glimpsed his figure returning to the cabin minutes later, the afternoon sun at his back. His expression was grim and her breath caught, waiting for news.
“Is Gina okay?” she asked immediately.
He nodded and kicked the door shut. “Brennen picked her up, closed the shop, and took her home. I sent two people over to watch them but they have pretty good security. I don’t think the Hartleys would kill her, they’re just looking for a way to get to you.”
At least no other innocent was getting caught up in things.
Until Mike O’Hara does.
“Kristof is still about two hours from getting here,” he continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “But he’s on his way, hurrying.” He set down his phone and sat on the arm of the sofa, running his hand back through his hair.
Liliana pulled off the hat, gloves, and coat, left them in a pile on the bed. Then kicked off her shoes since they were going to be there a while yet. Her stomach was in knots, and despite the exhaustion telling her to lie down and sleep, a restlessness ran through her limbs. She paced around the bed, back and forth, adrenaline still pumping.
“So what’s the deal with the bank account?” She glanced at him. “Is it a business thing? Electronic tag on the money? Something you can follow that will lead you to him, somehow?”
He didn’t meet her eyes, his head bowed. Like he wasn’t even listening to her.
Shit. “So that wasn’t some kind of trick?”
“No.”
“Was that a business account, or...?”
“My personal one.”
She blinked at him in astonishment. “He just cleaned out your personal bank account?”
“Yes.”
Liliana’s feet stopped dead, nearly pitching her on her face. “That has to be more than you were even paid to protect me in the first place.”
“Yes.”
Holy shit.
She paced again. It didn’t make any sense. At all. “Why would you do that? Why would you give him all that money if you’re not going
to see a dime of it again? If you’re not going to use it to chase him down?”
“The job is protecting you, whatever it takes. He has been eliminated as a threat. It’s done.”
She felt like she was losing her mind, like it simply wouldn’t compute in her brain. She stopped pacing and stood several feet from him, her arms crossed at her stomach. Her gut still turned and twisted, the tangle of everything she was feeling nearly too much to bear. “It’s guilt, isn’t it?”
O’Hara looked sharply up at her and she suspected she hit her mark.
“Guilt. Because you screwed up and fucked the girl. Broke your own rule about not banging random women, women you don’t care about. Guilt that your friend was killed. That you didn’t have enough precautions in place. And to punish yourself for all these screw-ups, you just tossed your money to a killer and let yourself think it was the right thing.”
“It was the right thing.”
Liliana shook her head, chewing at the inside of her mouth as if it could keep her from spitting more venom at him. “It was stupid. In no world is my life worth that much money to anyone, let alone you.”
“Of course you are.”
He rose and started toward her, each step purposeful.
God, she couldn’t take any more lecturing from him right then—she’d run out of the cabin into the cold again if she had to get away from him. Liliana backed up until her spine bumped the wall. “O’Hara—”
He grasped her face, kissed her deep and firm, pushing her mouth open, his tongue snaking out and meeting hers. Her senses were overloaded with his touch, his taste, the feel of him pressing against her again. She wove her hands over his shoulders, around his neck, her fingers grasping at him, holding him as if terrified he might let her go. The spark of his need woke her own.
