It hadn’t worked. I’d had nightmares every night after that, and by the time the tournament was imminent, I’d barely slept more than two hours at a time. I knew I had to do something to help myself sleep, so in Canada, I’d brought a hooker back to my room.
I never fucked her. I felt guilty enough just having her sleep beside me. Visions of Lia consumed me as the nameless brunette slept coiled around my torso, but I’d slept without dreams. I did the same thing the night before the tournament with one of the groupie whores I’d met at the gathering of tournament players and investors. Winning meant being able to focus, and I couldn’t stay on my toes without sleep. I knew my competition would be rough.
It was, too. Well, at least Stark was. I’d mostly sat back and let my competition take each other out.
Stark fought harder, hid better, and his constant movement made it difficult to get a lock on him from a distance. My aim wasn’t as accurate in the frozen environment, and I needed to be closer to get a clear shot. Unfortunately, he’d found me first. I think about the desperation I felt when presented with my own death, and they only thing I could do was to trigger an avalanche, nearly killing us both in the aftermath.
I think about the deal we cut while lying trapped in the middle of rocks and snow. By now, he has been deemed the winner, and I am presumed dead. My ties to Rinaldo are severed, and I can finally be with Lia without the distraction of my obligations to Rinaldo Moretti.
I can only hope Stark was convincing enough.
It feels like leaving an arm behind, but I don’t go back for my Barrett sniper rifle, broken at the bottom of the mountain and left as proof of my demise. Rinaldo would know I’d never part with it willingly. I am still tempted to go seek it out, but he probably took it with him.
Stark would emerge victorious, and in turn, I would kill Joseph Franks—the leader of the Seattle mob. Stark would be free to go off and live his own life with the woman he loved, and so would I.
Lia.
The idea of missing someone when they were away is foreign to me. The other times I have been away from her over the past year were short, and I never felt the sense of loss I do now. I was always glad to be back and in bed with her, but I didn’t think about her while I was away. Now I want to see her face, look into her eyes, and run my hand over her cheek. I want to feel her body give way as I slowly enter her from behind, the bedroom of our small cabin filling with the sound of her moans.
I close my eyes as I trudge across the frozen rocks, memories of our last time together flowing through my brain.
She’d made barley stew that night. It was warm and delicious as we sat on the floor in front of the fire and ate. She was all smiles and laughs, looking forward to seeing her mother the next day. I’d surprised her with a two-week trip back to Arizona to cover my own absence. I even had Freyja, our dog, booked to go with her.
I’d watched her be all domestic as she cleaned up the dishes and put away the leftover stew. When she was nearly done, I’d wrapped my arms around her from behind and inhaled the scent at her neck. She’d giggled as I nipped at her skin with my lips, then picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
I’d undressed her slowly, taking my time to kiss every part of her as her clothing fell to the floor.
I run my tongue over my chilled lips, wishing I could still taste her there, and the cold wind stings the flesh near the cut on the side of my mouth. My arm throbs, and I hold it a little tighter against my body.
She’d looked so beautiful lying on her back beneath me. Before Lia, I’d almost always taken women from behind. Seeing their faces just didn’t matter to me, but Lia was different. Everything about her was different.
I loved watching her move under me and feeling her push up to meet every movement I made. I’d moved slowly in and out of her, watching her face as her head tilted back against the pillow and her mouth opened to take my tongue. I’d taken my time, fucked her slowly and gently, brought her to the brink and back over and over again until she finally came apart in my arms.
I’d gasped as I thrust into her one more time, holding myself against her as the orgasm rippled through me, leaving my body trembling as I’d collapsed on top of her, panting. She’d wrapped her arms around my neck and shoulders, humming in contentment as she pressed her lips to the skin at my temple.
I’d slept so soundly afterward.
I shake my head to clear it and look back over the icy Arctic Ocean. I replay the last few hours in my head as I continue to pace over the rocks. I’d spent the first couple of hours just staying out of sight of the helicopters as they picked up Stark first and then the bodies of the other tournament players. There isn’t a lot of cover—Buckingham Island is far above the tree line—and I have to settle for ducking behind the vertical ridges running up and down the mountain. The only way I know for sure that I haven’t been spotted is because no one comes down to retrieve me.
The plan must have worked. Rinaldo would now believe I’m dead and would be returning to Chicago as the loser of the tournament overall but still the Chicago winner. I served him well, even as the loser.
I will still have to complete my end of the bargain I’d made with Bastian. I will kill Franks if and when I return to the civilized world, but I will worry about that when the time comes. It isn’t going to be a rush job, and I will have plenty of time to make up my absence to Lia first.
I walk a little faster as if my quickened steps will bring me to her sooner. They won’t, but maybe they will keep me alive long enough for my ride to show up. In the meantime, there’s nothing but me and my thoughts—never a good combination.
My young hallucination continues to follow me through the snow. My shoulders are tight as I keep waiting for him to speak, but he says nothing. It’s the anticipation of what he might say that has me on edge.
I’m running out of energy. The meager sustenance I had is lon
g gone, and I’m feeling the lack of calories in my body. I don’t feel hungry, and I assume that’s because I’m far too cold to notice. I’m likely dehydrated, and I wonder if I should find a way to melt some of the snow.
Where is he?
As if in answer, a sound reaches over the wind to my ears, and I look out toward the water as a black shape emerges from the depths. I expect it to be louder, but after the initial crack from the ice, there’s little more noise than the icy waves already make.
A tall cylinder emerges, followed by a long, flat shape at the top of the water. I’d been on a submarine once before while on duty near the Persian Gulf, but this one is tiny in comparison.
I let out a breath and nearly fall to my knees. I am going to survive this.