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“You want to take a shower?” he asked.
“In cold water? No thanks.” He heard the shiver in her voice.
“It’ll be lukewarm, if they turned the water heaters to low, which they probably did because the electricity and water is still on. I’m going to take a quick one.” It had been a stressful few days, and tonight was the first night he’d actually slept in a bed since before he left Evanston. He definitely needed to shower.
“Knock yourself out,” she said.
The water was colder than he’d expected, and he finished his shower in record time. He dressed in the clean clothes he’d brought into the tiny bathroom, and exited the room to see that Alex had gotten dressed, as well.
After last night, with his revelations and her reactions, she probably needed the armor of clothing as much as he did.
They ate yogurt and granola for breakfast, brewed coffee in the battered coffee maker in the room and watched television off and on all day. Alex found a deck of dog-eared playing cards in the desk drawer, and she beat his ass at gin rummy until he got tired of losing. He wasn’t surprised that she was such a cutthroat competitor. It came with the territory when you were a defense attorney.
After beating him one final time, she gathered the cards and shoved them back in the tattered box. “You’re no competition.”
“That’s because we’re not playing my game,” he said, turning to turn on the television again.
“What game would that be?” she asked.
“Poker.”
Her eyes lit up. “I love playing poker.” She slid the cards out of the box again. “Let’s go.”
Two hours later, she tossed her losing hand onto the bedspread. “I can’t believe you bluffed me on that hand.” She shoved the pile of pretzel sticks across the bedspread at him. “Here’s your winnings. Don’t choke on them.”
Grinning, he gathered them up and tossed them into the bag they’d designated for trash. “You’re not a very good loser, are you?”
“I don’t like to lose,” she said, sticking her chin out. “Do you?”
“I hate losing. I prefer… compromise.”
“Not a lot of compromising in poker,” she pointed out.
“Wanna go again? I’ll throw the game to you.”
She stared at him, appalled. “Why would I want that?”
“You said you hated to lose.”
“Of course I do. Who doesn’t hate losing? But I want to win fair and square.”
“Good to know,” he said, filing the revelation away. He’d enjoyed spending the day in this crappy motel room with Alex Conway. And that was the last thing he’d ever expected to say.
She hadn’t whined once about the circumstances. She’d eaten their meager meals without complaint, and she’d thrown herself into the card games. She enjoyed trash talk as much as he did, and celebrated when she won. But she didn’t pout or whine when she lost.
Pretty much the perfect companion to be stranded with in a blizzard.
Huh. Who would have guessed he’d say that about her?
He reached for the television to turn it back on and froze at the scream of engines. Coming closer.
Gideon stood silently and switched off the lights. Pulled the curtains together so no light filtered into the room.
Alex slid off the bed and rushed to her handbag. Gideon fumbled in the top drawer of the night table between the beds and pulled out his Glock.
When he turned toward the door, he saw Alex, staring at the window, holding her small Sig Sauer.
The engines were coming closer.
