Frozen Desires (Asylums for Magical Threats 2) - Page 17

“Why are you so defensive, Camilla? The more you tell me, the more I can ask around for additional information. Whatever you think of me, you know I’m good at tapping contacts.”

He nearly stumbled when he felt the heat of her hand under his shirt. When her claws pieced his skin, Marco merely raised an eyebrow. As long as she continued to avoid having a real conversation with him, he was going to make it his mission to irritate her until she started talking.

She seemed to let her guard down whenever he made her uncomfortable, so if that was the game he needed play, so be it. He gave her one of his sexy-eyed stares and said in a low voice, “Using your claws on me, huh?” He leaned in. “You should know that I like it a little rough, beauty.”

Cam blinked, and as the band finished their song, he used the split second distraction to tug her off the dance area to behind one of the posts of the veranda. When she opened her mouth he held her lips together with his fingers and said, “Were the shadow-shifters a coincidence or something else? Do we really need to keep playing these games, Camilla, or will you just tell me if someone is looking for you or not?”

She went utterly still, putting Marco on his guard. He’d been keeping an eye on his surroundings while dancing, but he hadn’t seen anything unusual. “What is it?”

She kneed him in the balls and he doubled over at the pain radiating from his groin. After hissing a few breaths through his teeth, he managed to look up and squeak, “What the fuck, Camilla?”

She looked down her nose at him. “Just so we’re clear, this is my operation. I’m not one of your floozies, so stop trying to undermine my authority. I don’t answer to you, and I never will.”

He watched her walked away, and while he admired her for standing up for herself, for some fucked up reason his pride wanted to follow her and issue another challenge.

Millie Ward shoveled another forkful of tinned tuna into her mouth and grimaced. Unless it was covered in batter and deep-fried, she didn’t like fish. But after what had happened to her drink back in Edinburgh, she wasn’t about to eat anything given to her that could be tampered with. That left her with canned vegetables and meats to keep up her strength.

As she rinsed away the taste with a bottle of unsweetened green tea—also impervious to tampering—Millie looked out of the kitchen window to check on her guard. The red-haired man who’d entered her room yesterday had said no more than a handful of sentences to her since then. He went by Mr. Larsen, which in Norway was about the same thing as calling him Mr. Jones or Mr. Smith. It wasn’t his real name, but she hadn’t expected him to give it.

But he did know hers.

Larsen had pretty much left her to her own devices and spent his time sitting and reading in front of the house. The only time he left the premises was early in the morning, a few hours after dawn. Checking the clock, she reckoned he was due to go out again any time now.

The last two mornings he’d come back with groceries, meaning that there had to be a village or town nearby.

While the aftereffects of the rowanberry juice had passed, Millie was no closer to escaping than when she’d first woken up. From the Norge addresses on the tins of tuna, she’d learned that she was in Norway. As for her guard, she knew Larsen cleaned and oiled his pair of Glocks in the living room each evening.

She’d once asked him why she was here, but he’d merely shaken his head and said he’d share that information later, when she was ready. Whatever that meant.

Millie had tried to come up with a list of people who’d want to capture her, but that list was surprisingly short. Yes, she’d foiled a few blackmail and kidnapping schemes over the last few years, but she’d been very careful about her identity, and where she lived. To date, only one person had located her after the fact, but she’d spotted their clumsy attempt to rig her flat with an explosive straight away.

As much as she wanted to think it was because she was fantastic at her job, more likely people stayed away from her because of the person who gave Millie her non-DEFEND related side jobs. Apparently, whoever was keeping her here either didn’t know or didn’t care about Mr. B.

She was on her own until she could escape.

Procuring a weapon was her first priority. After searching a little both days, she

’d come up empty-handed, not even finding a sharp knife in the kitchen. Even without a weapon, she was hoping to make a move soon. Not only would her family worry about her, she was determined to find out what Kiarra’s brother was up to.

She heard steps on the porch, and Millie put on her ‘confused and not sure what to think’ expression right before the front door opened. Larsen peeked his head in and said, “I’ll be back. The person watching you has orders to shoot if they think you’re trying to escape.”

She gave a weak nod, and Larsen shut the door behind him. She took her time finishing off her tuna and tea before she crept to the front door. She had yet to call Larsen’s bluff about someone guarding her whilst he was away, but today she would test it.

There were windows on either side of the door, and Millie leaned over to peek out from the side of the curtain. The chair out front was empty, and no one was in plain sight. Because of the sheer rock face off to the right side of the house, the best place to keep watch would be from the top of the house, on the roof.

Walking out the front door would be useless if she wanted the element of surprise.

Millie eased to the floor and crawled on her hands and knees back to the kitchen, where she’d left the can opener on the edge of the counter. She reached up and eased it down before testing the weight in her hand. It wasn’t one of those cheap scraps of metal, but rather a good solid pound of metal and plastic that would do nicely for smacking someone on the back of the head.

With her weapon now in hand, Millie slinked along the floor to the small bathroom across from her bedroom. Once inside, she locked the door and turned on both the fan and the shower. While not usually one to waste water, the noise from the combined shower and fan would cover any noises she made whilst opening the small window and crawling out of it.

She eased the small window open, but when it creaked once, she stilled and waited. After sixty seconds ticked by, she reckoned that it was safe enough to keep going. Most people expected women to take long showers, and she’d use that stereotype to her advantage.

She finally got the window open and used the toilet as a step stool to reach the windowsill. Millie positioned her back facing out and perched her arse on the sill. There was a two-foot space between the house and the rock face, and she leaned until her back touched the solid surface. Looking up, she saw that no one was peeking over the side of the house. They could, of course, be lying in wait. But this was her best chance to plan an escape, and Millie wasn’t one to shy away from a little danger.

Slowly she managed to get her legs out and place her feet flat against the wall on either side of the window. Keeping a grip on the can opener, she placed her hands against the rock wall behind her, scooted her upper body up a little, and then braced herself as her legs walked up the side of the house. There was a good six feet between the window and the roof, and as she repeated the process, inching her way up, sweat started trailing down her back.

When her head was just shy of the roofline, Millie stopped and listened. The shower and fan droned below her. The wind blew against the house and the few shrubs in the yard. Yet she didn’t hear any creaks or movement from the roof. Pushing aside her doubts, she stood by her belief that the roof was the best vantage point for an unknown guard.

Tags: Jessie Donovan Asylums for Magical Threats Paranormal
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