“Sure,” Ambra said, and Tom pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she whimpered against his mouth, until her hands were on his upper arms, moving across his back, up to his neck. Jesus, this was madness. All she wanted was to get under his shirt, to feel him, but Freja was still howling and Ambra pulled herself free and started to laugh.
“You’d better go out. That way we won’t have any accidents.”
Chapter 33
Tom pulled on his coat, gloves, and scarf. When he opened the door, the snow swirled inside. The temperature had dropped dramatically. Freja barked angrily at the weather.
“Out with you,” he told her.
The dog threw herself outside. He followed her, hunched over against the snow, trudging through the drifts. The question was whether he would even be able to make it back to Kiruna tonight. Though maybe he wouldn’t need to. Quickly and willingly, he got lost in thoughts of Ambra.
Sexy, hot thoughts of smooth limbs and quick hands. Soft lips and a fragrant, welcoming body waiting for him.
He felt like a normal man around her, not a weakened freak or a violence machine, just a person. He wanted to discover and explore every inch of her. See which other arousing sounds he could coax out of her. Wanted to take off one piece of clothing after another, peel them away and unwrap her like a gift. Explore and caress. Kiss her until her lips were swollen and her cheeks flushed.
His cell phone started to ring, and he hurried to pull it from his pocket; maybe Ambra was worried. But it wasn’t Ambra. It was Isobel De la Grip. He peered after Freja indecisively. But she had found an interesting snowdrift and was ignoring him completely. His phone continued to ring. He didn’t want to talk to Isobel. He wanted to hurry back to Ambra. But this wasn’t the first time Isobel had called him lately, so maybe it was just as well he got it over and done with.
“Hello, this is Tom Lexington,” he answered.
“Tom! I’d almost given up. I’m so glad you answered, and sorry for calling so late. How are you?”
Tom liked the redheaded doctor. He also admired her work in the field—she had gone through things most people couldn’t even imagine. When she asked how he was, he knew it was out of genuine concern.
“Sorry I didn’t answer. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“I understand, please don’t feel bad. I didn’t mean to chase you. I just wanted to ask you something. Do you know a journalist named Ambra Vinter?”
Tom stopped dead. That was probably the last thing he was expecting. “Why?” he replied guardedly.
“She’s a reporter from Aftonbladet. She called me. Wanted to ask questions about the rescue mission in Chad. She asked all kinds of things. I know you haven’t said anything, but there aren’t many of us who know what happened.”
“This is the first I’m hearing about it,” Tom said.
He gripped the phone in his hand, felt a weight building on his chest, could barely believe what he was hearing. “When did she call you?”
“A few days ago. I’m so worried. I don’t want to be a burden on you. I know you’ve had more than enough to deal with. But we agreed not to say anything. We’ve run into problems with the adoption.”
“I thought it was all done.”
“So did we. But it’s some bureaucratic crap, and I’m terrified the authorities will say no if they find out how Marius got here, if they find out what happened down there. I just wanted to check whether you knew anything. Has she been in contact with you? Alexander and David haven’t heard from her.” Isobel, who was one of the most composed people he knew, sounded worried, almost on the verge of breaking down. And it was all Ambra’s fault.
“I’ll look into it, Isobel. Thanks for calling. And don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.” He kept his tone brief and calm, but inside he felt ice cold. What the hell was going on? What was he missing?
“I don’t know what I’ll do if we lose Marius.”
“I know. I’ll take care of it.”
She was silent. “Thanks, Tom,” she eventually said.
“No problem,” he replied, but the guilt weighed him down. He was the one who had talked. Ambra’s information had come from him. It was the oldest trick in the book. A pair of pretty eyes, a little attention and some kisses, and that was all it took for him to spill secret after secret. He’d even offered to tell her more if she went to dinner. How stupid could a man be?
He shouted for Freja and trudged back toward the house. He would have to accept that he’d been tricked, that Ambra had betrayed him.
He silently opened the door. Listened but couldn’t hear any sounds. What was she doing, taking the chance to snoop around while he was out? How much had she already seen? The paranoia was taking hold of him.
He moved inside without a sound, but there was no sign of her. He silently took off his coat and dropped it to the floor, allowed his instincts to take over. Gestured for Freja to lie down. He gently opened the door. Ambra wasn’t in the living room. Not in the kitchen either. He moved toward the hallway and the doors there. One of them was slightly more ajar than he’d left it. He’d trusted her. He still hoped he was wrong, that Isobel was mistaken. He pushed the door to his study. It swung open without a sound. Ambra was in the middle of the room, looking at the documents spread out on the floor.
“What are you doing?” he asked, and she jumped.
She turned around, and did at least have the decency to look guilty. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“I was going to the bathroom and the door was open.” She moved her arm in a sweeping gesture over the documents. Reports from Chad. Pictures. “What is all this?” she asked.
“I can’t see how that is any of your business.” He tried to assess the situation objectively. Twisted and turned everything she had asked him since they’d met, skillful questions.
He could barely believe it, but Ambra had pumped him for information. It was painfully obvious now. She was a journalist with a tabloid. She made her living uncovering things. And then she’d stumbled over this. No, not stumbled, he had given her a possible scoop. Exposed Isobel. Other sensitive information. If Ambra had had time to read any of the documents, she would know that people had died because of him.
Everything he’d said to her was in confidence. It was a long time since he’d last felt so deceived, so betrayed, a long time since he last was so badly betrayed. He’d even told her his fucking code name. Not that it was confidential anymore, but even so.
He took a step toward her.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” she repeated, her voice strained, “and I know I shouldn’t have come in here. I’m sorry. I told you I’m curious, and then I saw it was about Chad, and I shouldn’t . . . I can see you’re really mad. Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” She wrung her hands looking distraught.
He couldn’t tell if she was acting. The attraction he felt for her knocked out all of his usual instincts.
“Why did you call Isobel De la Grip?” he asked.
Ambra swallowed again. He could see her slim throat working. Didn’t she realize how exposed she was out here, all alone with him? How easily he would have been able to hurt her if he was that type of man? Her lack of caution made him even angrier.
“What do you mean?” she asked. Her voice trembled toward the end of the sentence, giving her away.
“You know what I mean,” he exploded. “Are you spying on me?” He could hear how furious he sounded. He was furious, not the least at himself, that he had let himself be so affected by her that it clouded his judgment. That he never suspected she might have an ulterior motive. That he’d allowed himself to be deceived.
Suddenly, the light on the ceiling flickered. The room went dark for a moment before it came back on. The storm was affecting the power. Ambra’s face was tense.
“I think it’s best if I go back to the hotel,” she said, and her chest heaved beneath her thin blouse.
“Not quite
yet. We need to talk a little, you and I. But first: Get out of here!” He moved to one side, saw her hesitate.
He waited. The light went out again, came back on. The power seemed close to cutting out.
“Go,” he said.
She left the room without looking at him. Her scent lingered in his nostrils, and he had to force himself to focus on reality, not the fantasy he had tricked himself into believing. “You can’t write about Chad—you know that, right?” he said.
She didn’t reply.
“Ambra . . .” He laid a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away as if he had hit her.
“Actually, I don’t think you can tell me what I can or can’t write. There were documents in that room talking about firefights and dead villagers. Who killed them?”
He crossed his arms. The light in the hallway flickered, and he thought he could hear the storm coming. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Everything’s so fucking complicated with you.” She trudged back to the living room, and he followed her. Freja was waiting for them, looked up anxiously, as though she could tell something was happening.
“You need to realize that this is serious. What I told you, it was in confidence.”
“So you aren’t denying you killed people in Chad?”
“I can’t talk about that. How much have you told your bosses? Who else have you mentioned this to?”
“Come on.”
“Seriously, you have to back off.”
“I don’t have to do anything. It feels like we’re done here. I want to go back now.”
He was so angry with her. And with himself. How could he have let himself be duped this way? It was embarrassing. “The roads are almost snowed closed. You should’ve thought of that before you started playing master spy,” he snapped.
“No. I want to leave. Now. If you aren’t going to give me a ride, then I’ll have to . . .”
She really didn’t get it. He grabbed her hand hard, pulled her down the hallway, and tore open the door. Wind and snow swirled inside. The storm had really arrived. Going out would be suicide.
“Be my guest,” he said sarcastically.
She stared at the storm. The snow was pouring down.
Tom dropped her hand and gave her a furious look. “Whether you like it or not, sweetheart, you’re stuck here with me.”
Chapter 34
Ambra was trying not to show how scared she was. But Tom frightened her. What she’d done was wrong, she knew that. You didn’t snoop around the way she had. But she’d peered in through the crack in the door and seen the documents spread out; then somehow she found herself taking a step into the room and saw the pictures. They were images of war and devastation. She saw what looked like dead people, mutilated bodies, saw reports about firefights and losses.
This was serious, she thought as her heart pounded and Tom stared at her with ice-cold eyes. The images could be proof of something really terrible. She was afraid now. Tom was suddenly a different person. A stranger who terrified her. The light on the ceiling flickered again. Jesus, she really hoped it was only a temporary power issue. Tom stepped toward her, and she flinched instinctively. He frowned. She was breathing heavily. Her very first foster home. There was a man. He was the first one to hit her. He used to scare her and then hit her. She still had trouble dealing with sudden movements. She had taught herself not to be afraid, but now she was so terrified she wasn’t quite in control.
The lamp flickered one last time, she saw Tom’s face, and then they were plunged into darkness.
“What’s going on?” she asked, aware of how scared she sounded.
“The power’s out,” was all he said. She could only just make him out, a compact darkness amid all the other darkness. She blinked, couldn’t see anything. Her cell phone was out of power. No one knew she was here. She’d been so stupid, so careless. The darkness was penetrating, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.
“Ambra? What are you doing?”
She tried to think clearly and logically. Tried to stop breathing so damn hard. She could feel the cold sweat beneath her arms.
“Ambra?”
“What?” she said, her voice small.
She heard him move. She hadn’t moved an inch. Part of her knew she might be overreacting, but she couldn’t think straight.
“I need to see if I can get the power back on,” he said curtly. The grown-up part of her knew his hand wasn’t raised to hit her; he was just grabbing the door. But she didn’t really know him at all. He was twice her size, strong as a bear. And he had pictures of dead people in his office. Panic threatened to take over. As he moved out into the dark hallway, she heard his footsteps, but otherwise he was silent.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I don’t want to be here. I’m so scared I can’t think.
“I need to find a flashlight that works. There are candles in the kitchen. And the fire is still going.”
He disappeared again. She was at a crossroads. Should she go back to the living room, deeper into the house? Or should she stay in the hallway, where she was closer to an exit?
She had to pull herself together. Act. She was capable, not helpless. Think, Ambra. She couldn’t stay here, which meant she had to get away. That was her only option. But how? If Tom wouldn’t give her a ride, she would have to come up with something herself. But even if she made it to the car, it wouldn’t be able to handle the storm. It would get stuck in the snow straight away.
The snowmobile!
Keys, she had seen keys somewhere. She closed her eyes and racked her memory. The kitchen. She’d seen keys on a hook in the kitchen. It said snowmobile above the hook. She could hear him rummaging around in the house. Her heart was pounding.
“Ambra?” he shouted again.
She couldn’t tell whether he sounded angry, irritated, or something else.
“What?”
“I’m downstairs, trying to get the backup generator going.”
Perfect. She hurried to the kitchen as fast as she could. He had lit a gas lamp in there. She found the hook and the key for one of the snowmobiles. The clinking sound made her hold her breath, but he was still making a noise downstairs and didn’t seem to notice anything.
She paused. What was she doing? It was cold and snowy outside. But she hated the fact he was refusing to give her a ride, that he scared her. To hell with him. She sneaked back out into the hallway. She fumbled along one wall and found what she was looking for—overalls. She pulled them on. Managed to find her scarf, hat, and gloves. Drenched in sweat, she pulled on shoes. Paused again. Was this really a good idea? But she’d had enough. He had shown her how to start it, said it was easy. He would just have to come into town to pick up the snowmobile tomorrow; she was only borrowing it. It wasn’t far into town. How hard could it be? And she had warm clothes; she would make it. He wouldn’t decide whether she stayed or left. It was her choice. He could go to hell.
Ambra left the house and closed the door quietly behind her, gasped for breath in the wind, pulled her hat down onto her head, did up the zipper as far as she could, and then hurried toward the garage through the heavy snow and whipping winds.
She made it without any trouble. It wasn’t locked, and she opened the door with a pant, propped it open. The air was calm inside. The shiny black car glittered threateningly at her, but there, there were the two snowmobiles. Still no sign of Tom. She took down a helmet from the wall. For a moment, she thought about going back to the house, but she sat down on one of the snowmobiles and studied the controls, tried to remember what he’d done, what he’d said.
She pulled on the helmet over her hat, fastened it, put the key into the ignition, and started the engine. She gripped the handles, took a deep breath, bit her lip, and accelerated. The snowmobile took off so quickly that she almost lost control when it flew out of the garage. But she clung onto the handles, turned gently, and then she was really speeding ahead.
Tom wa
s right, it was super easy to drive. She’d done it! The snow whirled around her and she hunched down behind the handle bars.
The thing was insanely fast. She steered it away from the house, and the snowmobile sped across the ground. When she turned around, she saw the house disappear from view, and then the forest enveloped her. She was on her way. At this rate, she would be back in Kiruna in no time. If the police stopped her, she would ask for a ride, but in this weather they would surely let her drive in town, even if it wasn’t allowed? She would soon be back in her room, in her bed, and once she managed to charge her cell phone, she would send Tom a message to pick up the snowmobile.
After a while, her initial excitement started to fade. It was much colder and darker than she had expected. Didn’t everyone say that the snow made the night brighter? But it was terribly dark, despite the snowmobile’s powerful headlights. And despite her layers, she had started to shiver. She was almost there, it couldn’t be far now. As long as she stuck to the road, it would all be fine.
She squinted, had trouble seeing through all the snow. Was she still on the road? It was hard to tell; it felt as if the trees were closing in around her. Shouldn’t there have been a road sign or something by now?
She slowed down, glanced around, continued, but a few minutes later she was forced to admit it. She had no idea where she was. She was lost, like an idiot.
There was nothing but forest and snow and darkness all around her. The wind whipped at her face, and she was now so cold that her teeth were chattering. She sped up again, but the sinking feeling inside her grew.
She had overreacted, been a typical, naive city girl about the weather, and she’d let her fear take over. In doing so, she had gotten herself into something that might be a much, much bigger threat than Tom Lexington ever could be.
Chapter 35
Tom heard a noise upstairs. It sounded like the front door closing. Hadn’t he closed it properly earlier? He wiped his hands on a rag and wondered what Ambra was doing up there; he hadn’t heard from her in a while. It felt good to get away from her for a few minutes. He’d been so angry before, but now he felt calmer, realized he might have overreacted. He still felt betrayed, but he was also partly to blame for that.
High Risk Page 30
