Cora had to keep her eyes squeezed shut so they wouldn’t stream in the cold air whipping past her. Finn felt as hard as rock, as unyielding as steel. He tensed and relaxed under her hands as he guided the snowmobile down the mountain road. Beneath her, the machine vibrated unrelentingly against her thighs.

Pressed as she was against Finn, that sensation brought back a slurry of memories. Jumbled, vivid, intoxicating.

She tried to will them from her mind, but they were as relentless as the snowmobile droning under her.

Finn grabbing a fistful of her hair to yank back her head.

Cora tightened her grip around Finn, and he shifted slightly.

His fingers digging into her thighs, forcing them apart.

Her eyes flashed open, narrowing immediately as icy air tried to burrow through her retinas. Por favor, La Flaca. Don’t do this to me now.

The last thing she needed was to remember that feeling. It made her want to feel it again, and again, and again. To feel him on her. Inside her. Holding her down and taking what he needed from her.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She drew a deep breath, forcing that arctic air into her lungs until they ached. A second later, the wind snatched the ghost of her breath from her lips.

When they arrived at Route 15, Finn paused. The snowmobile grumbled under her as he sat back, forcing her upright from her slouch. He turned his helmeted head, anonymous behind black goggles. His lips were dry from the cold air, his skin blotched red.

“You okay?” His rumble of a voice sent an involuntary shiver through her.

Not by a long shot. “Just…cold.”

“Almost there.”

She could feel his eyes on her, even through those impenetrable goggles. He grabbed her leg, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

His fingers made her skin writhe. She jerked her leg away and huddled against his back again. For a moment, neither of them moved; Finn’s hand an inch above her leg, fingers tensed. As if he was also wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Then he leaned forward again, and the snowmobile surged forward. She dug her fingers into his chest, probably harder than necessary. If he made a sound, she couldn’t hear it above the whistling wind.

They came to a stop a few minutes later. She clambered off the snowmobile and glanced around, spotting the dark square of a cabin a few yards away. She started immediately for it, ignoring Finn’s barked “Hey!”

Her chest was too tight for breath, her jaw aching how she clenched it. Not from the cold, but from the tsunami of emotions flooding her.

The wooden door felt good under her fingertips—rough and solid—and the smell of wood smoke and freshly baked bread gusted over her when she pushed inside.

The animated chatter filling the room cut off. Half a dozen faces turned to her, some wary, some intrigued, some dispassionate. One of them—an old man wearing a grubby hat and a neon-orange hunter’s vest—crinkled his forehead in sudden thought.

Finn’s hand folded over her shoulder, dragging her to the side. He stepped in front of her, eclipsing the room.

Hiding her from sight.

She was such an idiot. Of course she couldn’t just walk into a place bold as day. She’d been on the news. People might—would—recognize her.

Fire-hot shame flashed over her cheeks.

“There a phone I can use?” Finn asked. He spoke carefully, slowly; like he always did when he wanted people to understand him despite his ruined voice.

He never spoke to her like that.

“Sure, hon,” a woman called out. “Right next to the cigarette machine.”

Finn moved to the side. She followed, trying to stay in his shadow, her hearth beating too hard in her chest.

“You two look frozen to death,” the woman said. “Want a hot toddy?”

“Sure. Thanks,” Finn called back. He glanced at Cora over his shoulder—there was a pale ring around his eyes where the goggles had protected his skin from the cold. “And some of that bread, if you’d be so kind.”

“’Course, hon,” the woman said, the direction of her voice changing as she moved around the room.

Cora didn’t dare look back at her or anyone else in the room. As it was, she could feel more than one pair of eyes tracking her across whatever the hell this place was. A restaurant in the middle of nowhere? But she’d heard Lars say something about cabins. So maybe this was a motel of some kind. This, their dining room or pub.

Now that the room was quiet, she could hear the murmur of a television set. A crackling fire. The creak of a chair as someone shifted their weight.

Then, as Finn lifted the handset of the payphone, conversation sprang up again.

“—guess it won’t clear up anytime soon, then. Dick said—”

“—was saying, that old—”

“—don’t go giving me none of that horseshit. I tole ya—”

Finn’s rumble drowned out those lowered voices. “Can you connect me with a local cab company?” He looked at her again, calm consideration in those blue eyes of his. Then his gaze slid past her, and he cocked his head.

Cora peeked behind her, straightening hurriedly. The woman Finn had been speaking to stood behind her, two steaming mugs in her hands. “You two wanna sit over here?” she asked.

Finn turned away, using his body to block the phone so all Cora could hear was the bass murmur of his voice. She nodded reluctantly. “Uh, sure.”

The woman—a brassy redhead wearing a thick jumper, purple jeggings, and a pair of Uggs—gave her a friendly smile before setting down the two mugs. “Bring you some grub in a minute, hon. You two gonna rent a cabin?”

“What? Oh, no. We…our car broke down.” Cora hurriedly shut her mouth. She didn’t know how much she could tell the woman. Had she already said too much?

“Did it?” The woman tsked and put her arms on her hips. “Well, lucky for you, Paul over there’s a qualified mechanic.” The woman twisted and hollered, “Ain’t you, Paulie?”

The old man with the grubby hat jerked like the woman had slapped him, and turned watery brown eyes on them. He gave Cora that same penetrating stare as before until she ducked her head and sat hurriedly at the small table.

“Ain’t I what?”

“A mechanic. You can help these folks out with their car, can’t you?”

The old man grumbled something under his breath, and the woman stormed closer to give him a slap on the shoulder. “Now don’t you go being all sulky. I know it’s cold out, but these folks need help.”

Cora’s face grew hot as she watched the pair from under her lashes. Finn was still on the phone, his back to the room. Now everyone was staring at the old man, some glancing back in her direction.

“It’s fine,” she called out as quietly as possible. “We’re just getting a cab.”

“Well you can’t go and just leave your car out in this.” The woman turned back to her, looking exasperated. “What if it gets stolen?”

Oh god.

Her cheeks tingled as blood drained from her face. Someone stealing the car they’d already stolen. Would that be good…or bad?

“I…It’s really…you don’t have to—” flustered words fell from her mouth as she waved an unsteady hand toward the woman. “Please, we just—”

“Head gasket blew,” cut in Finn. “Just called a tow truck. They’ll be here in three hours.”

“Head gasket, eh?” Paul said. He gave a half-shrug, tipping a steaming mug against his lips. “Couldn’t have fixed that, Anna.”

“Could’ve gone and had a look,” Anna said, sounding disgruntled. She dusted her hands on her legs and gave Cora and Finn a sympathetic smile. “Let me get you two something to eat. You looked starved.”

“Thought they looked frozen,” Paul muttered.

Anna threw him a hundred mega-watt glare before storming off through a door that led out of the small dining area.

Everyone else returned to their conversations except for Paul, who stared up at the television mounted to a nearby wall as if he spent all day, every day, doing just that. Had he seen that news report on her disappearance? Was that why he kept looking at her as if he recognized her?

Finn cut off her view as he slid into the chair opposite her. “It a particularly difficult thing for you to do? Keeping your mouth shut?”

“Was I just supposed to ignore her?” Cora whispered back furiously. She leaned forward. “I think that old man recognizes me.”

“No shit. I’m sure everyone in here does.”

Her skin went cold, and this time it had nothing to do with their snowmobile drive through the snow. “What?”

Finn sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before taking a sip from the mug in front of him. He grimaced, and then gave her a long-suffering stare when she twitched her fingers at him, begging for an explanation.

“No one recognized you, Princess.”

She shivered. “Stop calling me that.”

“Soon as you stop acting like one.” Finn took another sip, grimaced again. “Jesus, you could clean car engines with this shit.”

Cora sniffed at her mug and wrinkled her nose. It smelled like cinnamon-flavored disinfectant. But it was hot, and it made her belly feel warm and gooey when it reached her stomach.

“How long until the cab gets here?” She didn’t ask about the tow-truck—she seriously doubted Finn had called for one.

“Three hours or so.”

“That long?” From what she could remember, the trip from Silver City to the road that turned up to the cabin took all of two hours.

“Outlying area,” was all Finn seemed interested in telling her.

She took another sip of that hot drink, almost scorching her tongue. “Lars said we’ll be in Texas by tonight.” She tried to keep her tone light—there was absolutely no reason why she should she have any opinion on the matter.

Finn seemed to feel the same way. He replied with a matter-of-fact, “Sounds about right.”

But the splash of heat in her chest was far from dispassionate. She slammed her mug down and stood. “I need the bathroom.”

Finn blinked up at her, a flicker of surprise in those blue eyes. “The—?”

“Yes. To pee? I’m human, I do that. Is it okay with you? Am I allowed?”

If he heard the sarcastic edge to her voice, he didn’t show it. He gestured past the pay phone he’d been using. “Think it’s down—”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. Conversation lulled for the time it took her to reach the door at the end of the passage.

The smell of potpourri filled the small bathroom. A tiny window looked out on banks of snow and frosted pines. A squirrel who’d decided to brave the cold sat on a nearby branch, twitching its tail like it was on its fourth cup of coffee for the day.

Cora washed her face in the porcelain basin, and stayed bent over for a few seconds. Why the hell did she care what Finn did? So what if he’d taken her virginity—he hadn’t planned to. She was just an extended one-night stand, wasn’t she?

He was probably eager to get rid of her. Worried she’d latch onto him like some needy, desperate—

A knock to the bathroom door cut off the thought. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll be out now.”

“Everything okay?”

She swung around and banged her fist against the door. “You ever hear of privacy?”

There was silence from the other side of the door. If he walked away, she couldn’t hear it. Her chest rose and fell as she bit down on the inside of her lip and glared at the wood like she could develop x-ray vision and see him behind it.

Why the hell did Finn mess with her head like this? Santa Muerte knew the last thing she needed right now were cobwebs and strange feelings drifting through her body. Her father was missing—possibly captured by a rival cartel. Those same people after her, too.

Now was not the time for her to act like some silly, lovestruck fool.

She had to be strong. Focused. An ice-queen that ruled her a kingdom of frost and snow with an iron-fist.

Even if she didn’t have a damn clue how to go about it.

Gees, what the hell had been in that drink?