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“Don’t make anything of this,” he told Rainne.
He slid his hand up her arm until he cupped her cheek. He heard her suck in some air. A tiny shudder under his fingertips. Alastair blame
d the memory of making love to her for his sudden, and persistent, need to touch and taste. She was in his head, under his skin, inside him. And the longer he was around her, the deeper she wormed herself into him.
“This is not a big deal,” he said. “It’s just for luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck anymore,” she whispered.
“What do you believe in now?” He found himself entranced by the look in her eye.
“Hope,” she said, summing up the very thing that had mesmerised him.
Softly, slowly, he closed the distance between them. Her lips were satin. She fit him perfectly. A tiny moan escaped her throat as she pressed into him. Delicate hands grabbed his leather jacket and tugged him closer.
What they planned to do was somewhere between dangerous and insanely stupid. If the bad guys didn’t get them, the blast from the snowmobile might. That’s if they didn’t freeze to death in the snow first. He needed one moment touching Rainne, in case it was their last.
He slowed the kiss, until he gently pressed their lips together one last time. The cold was unbearable when he pulled back from her. Dazed eyes blinked up at him and he saw a flicker of hope in their depths.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” He wasn’t entirely sure if the words were meant for her or for himself. Either way, they stuck in his throat like a lie.
He tugged the scarf back up to cover her mouth.
“Was that another mistake?” she whispered. “Or are we calling that kiss something else?” Her eyes went wide. “We’re not calling it goodbye, are we?”
“No.” Alastair couldn’t trust himself to say anything more. Not when his thoughts and feelings were jumbled up in one huge, confusing mess.
Alastair pulled open the door and a blast of freezing wind hit them hard.
Heads down, they stepped out into the thick snow. Sharp, icy flakes nipped at their exposed skin. Their eyes watered from the blinding cold. The kind that went through you to the bone and melded there. Alastair turned to check on Rainne but could barely see her through the thick falling snow. The silence was disturbing, made ominous by their purpose and the danger that awaited them. Each step they took was laborious. It felt more like they were wading rather than walking.
The snow ate at Alastair. It chipped away at his resolve, making him wonder what he was doing outside instead of staying tucked up in the warmth with Rainne. The pain in his side was a consistent dull reminder that he was one strike away from a punctured lung. His swollen wrist shot jagged spikes of pain through his body each time he moved it in the wrong way. His head throbbed with every step. His throat burned with each icy breath he sucked in. Yet through it all, he could only think about the taste of Rainne on his lips and warm comfort of her hand in his.
It felt right. Like he’d been missing a limb for three years and now it was back.
20
* Joe *
“It’s not what you think.” Caroline stared into the dumb waiter from her spot beside Joe.
“I think it’s a life-sized rubber doll that looks suspiciously like Josh McInnes,” Joe said.
“And it’s holding a box of illegal fireworks,” Jena felt the need to point out. “Was the doll made in Japan? It looks like it was. They’re experts at getting the face that lifelike.”
All eyes turned to Jena.
“How on earth would you know that?” Abby asked her best friend.
“It’s amazing what you learn working the nightclubs in Atlantic City. I know about stuff that would curl your toes.”
“Josh promised me he wouldn’t buy any of those fireworks. They’re dangerous. People have lost limbs using them.” Caroline was clearly outraged.
“Really?” Shona said. “You’re worried about the fireworks and not about the sex doll?”
“It’s not a s-sex doll.” Caroline’s face turned burgundy. “It was a joke gift. From Mitch.”
“I don’t see how it’s funny,” Kirsty’s mum said as she stared at plastic Josh.
