Page 81 of Icebound

But there was nothing. Maybe this was what death was—everything freezing in place and utter emptiness. The wind whipped up a swirl of dust, coming toward her motionless body, and she wondered if it was real, or eternity coming to take her…

“Move your ass,” Bastien barked at her, and she turned, to watch him lean over Thing One’s body, then calmly fire another shot, point blank. He did the same thing to Thing Two, then looked at her out of expressionless eyes. “Get back in the ATV.”

She should cry, she thought distantly. She should throw herself in Bastien’s arms and weep with relief. But he seemed just as cold and forbidding as he had earlier, so she simply did as he said, averting her gaze from the two bodies lying in the dust.

“Thank you for not killing me,” she said as she climbed in. She sounded like a polite guest at tea.

“No problem,” he replied tersely, not even glancing her way. “Hold on. We’re going to move fast.”

And she did.

If she thought the terrain was rocky before, it was nothing compared to the jarring of their breakneck pace as they sped through the desert. The shadows were deep and forbidding, and instead of going back the way they came, Bastien drove forward, taking them farther and farther away from the villa. Maddelena was going to be pissed.

It seemed as if they bounced along forever, with Chloe clutching the handle on the dashboard while Bastien drove in grim-faced silence, until they finally met up with the semblance of a road. The bouncing decreased only marginally, and she allowed herself a glance at Bastien.

He had the same dead expression on his face as he’d had when he shot the guards, and she wondered what was going on in his mind. He’d severed all connection with Le Fauçon, with Luc, with his…wife, and he’d done it for her. He certainly didn’t look happy about it.

At first, she didn’t recognize the shapes in the desert, but as they drew closer, she realized they were cars in a parking lot, with people wandering around. Innocent people, and she wondered what she would do if it looked like Bastien was going to shoot them. She had no idea where he’d put his gun—probably behind his back—and she knew that the danger wasn’t over yet. They came to an abrupt stop by a pale gray Fiat, and it took all her strength to keep from slamming forward against the windshield.

Without a word, he climbed out of the ATV, then turned to look at her impatiently. He had untucked his denim shirt, and she knew the gun was at his back, where he could grab it as he needed it. He was a very dangerous man, and just because he’d saved her life didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her. She scrambled out of the vehicle, standing on shaky legs.

He jerked his head toward the Fiat. “Get in.”

She hurried to comply, anything to get him away from the innocent tourists, and fastened her seatbelt. He tossed the keys of the ATV on the seat of the vehicle, then climbed into the Fiat beside her, and he seemed to fill the space. He smelled like dust and sweat and ruthlessness, and she prepared to hold on tightly as he tore down the road. Instead, he pulled out of the parking lot with almost comical precision, moving along at a sedate pace that felt bizarre after their desperate race through the desert. She sat in utter silence, staring straight ahead of her as they slowly drove into civilization, but it wasn’t until they got on a major highway that she got up enough nerve to speak.

“Where are we going?”

“Malaga Airport,” he said.

“Are we flying somewhere?”

“You are. You’re going home.”

A moment of hope filled her, followed by an immediate let-down. “Where are you going?”

“To England. I have a job to finish.” His voice was terse, each word dragged out of him.

“You don’t have to do it!” she cried. “Le Fauçon would hardly expect you to, since you went against his orders. What have you got to gain?”

“That’s none of your business.” He didn’t even glance at her, all his attention on the busy road.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Her voice was flat.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say. You’ve had your little adventure, fucked an assassin, run for your life. Time to get back to being a boring housewife in South Carolina.”

“North Carolina,” she corrected. So, he hadn’t remembered.

“I don’t care. You’ll fly from Malaga to Barcelona and then on to New York. I’ll give you enough money to make it back to wherever you come from.”

“Le Fauçon is going to kill you for disobeying him.”

“Probably,” he said, unconcerned.

“Then come with me.”

He finally turned to look at her. “What do you think this is? Love’s young dream? I don’t care about you—you’re just someone I fucked a few times.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?” she said after a moment.