The fear that had filled Finn with such acidic panic retreated like an ebbing wave. He lowered his pistol and came inside the cabin, closing the door with an absent kick of his boot as he tugged off his gloves. Cora lay at Lars’s feet, hogtied and shivering. She had marks on her legs, on the small of her back where the long-sleeved shirt she wore had hiked up.

“Guess you didn’t tell her I was coming?” He turned to Cora, nudging her with his boot. “Ever think to let people speak before you go and make fucking assumptions?”

“Assumptions?” Finn said in a low growl as he went to his knees beside Cora. “What the fuck—?”

“Little miss Fight Club over here wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.” Lars crouched on the other side of Cora, and helped Finn untie her.

She stood, yanking her arms free from both his and Lars’s grip when they tried to help her up. Then she hurried forward, scooping up a blanket from where it lay discarded on the floor, thankfully covering the dark circles of her nipples where they shone through the filmy fabric of her shirt.

Of Lars’s shirt.

Lars brushed his hands on his jeans and went into the kitchen, flicking a light switch against the wall. “Power off?”

“Tree took out the power line.”

“Fuck my life. Thought this place was a bit snowier than usual. Wrong fucking time for you two to be out here.”

“It’s the only place—” Finn began.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lars glared at Cora and then back at Finn.

Finn growled deep in his throat. “You said you’d be here Sunday.”

“Yeah, well, you scared the living bejesus out of me with that call yesterday. Thought I’d be picking up body parts from here to Timbuktu.” Lars set down a pair of coffee cups and started heating up the water in the pot, adding more from a bottle of filtered water standing nearby. “You check the generator?”

“Tree,” Finn said, absently picking the rope from the floor and winding it back into a coil. “We’ll need to get a repairman up here.”

Cora stood, a scowl spreading over her face as she turned to watch them conversing.

Lars glanced up, straight at Cora. Then he turned to Finn, eyes blank, mouth in an unreadable line. “What say you we go take a second look?” Lars murmured, hiding his mouth behind the rim of his cup before taking a small sip.

“You’re not even going to apologize?” Cora stepped forward, her legs flashing through the edges of the blanket. It only came to mid-thigh, and her skin was still pebbled from cold.

“Soon as you do, pumpkin,” Lars said dryly. “I’m offended you think I’d hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Cora’s eyes went wide with incredulity. She hiked up the corner of her shirt, revealing a bruise on her ribs. “That’s exactly what you—”

“Get back into bed,” Finn cut in, gesturing up the stairs. “You need to get some sleep.”

Cora let out a frustrated sound and thumped her way up the stairs without a backward glance.

He could feel the weight of Lars’s eyes on him.

“She sure knows her place,” Lars said quietly. When Finn spun to him, Lars hid a small smile behind his mug. “Is she waiting there for you?”

“That’s not—” Finn cut off with a growl.

Lars snorted.

“We’ve been on the road since yesterday. She’s barely gotten more than an hour’s sleep.”

“I should be calling her bunny if she’s got that much—”

“She almost drowned in the Rio Grande.”

He swiped his mug from the counter and stomped out the door, not waiting for Lars to follow.

“What, she decide to head back home to Mexico?” Lars called after him. “’Cos I’m getting all sorts of Latino vibes from her.”

Finn snorted, and cast Lars an incredulous stare as he handed him the torch. “What the fuck happened back there?”

“Girl thought I’d come to snatch her, I guess.” Lars took a swig of his coffee as they worked their way around to the back of the house. Snow swirled around them, driven by a sporadic wind that seemed to have exhausted itself. “Pointed that pretty pistol at me and wouldn’t let me state my case until she had me tied up.”

“Tied up?” Finn paused, giving Lars a wide-eyed stare.

“I made her think I was tied up.” Lars passed him and went over to the generator, brushing away snow from the control panel. “She assumes a lot, that girl.”

“So you hogtied her?”

“She was being obnoxious,” Lars muttered, and threw Finn another half-hidden smile before taking a long swallow of his coffee. “Plus, hogtied girls are much, much more reasonable than any other kind.”

Finn squeezed his eyes shut with his fingers.

“Jesus, this thing’s dead,” Lars shifted his weight.

“I told you—”

“Think I brought you out here in the fucking snow for that?” Lars turned to face him. “Tell me what’s going on, Milo. With you. With this chick. Everything.”

Finn glanced up, and Lars followed his gaze. They were under the bedroom window, but it was closed against the cold. The lamp cast very little light, but enough that it was obvious Cora wasn’t close to the window.

“She’s cartel. Capo’s daughter.”

Lars lowered his cup, mouth slowly falling open. “Fuck,” he said, with emphasis.

“Exactly.”

“And this Texas thing?”

“Supposed to take her to her uncle. Or, her father’s business partner.”

“Creepy,” Lars muttered, taking a sip of his coffee and shivering theatrically when a gust of wind blew snow over him. “Hurry, it’s fucking cold out here.”

Finn shrugged inside his parka, glancing back at the generator as he strode away. Movement caught his eyes. He looked up, catching the tail-end of a shadow before it disappeared from behind the bedroom window’s glass. “Which I would have done. Couldn’t get hold of her father.”

“Me neither. Think something’s happened to him?”

Finn laced his hands together, urging his gloves tight around his fingers. “He was at a funeral in Sinaloa. There was a shoot-out.”

“Jesus,” Lars muttered. “He still alive?”

“Don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “Now I don’t know if I should take her to Texas, or wait to hear from her father.”

“Which might never happen, if he’s six feet under.” Finn glanced back as Lars drained the last of his coffee. “So what’s putting up your back about Texas? I mean, I trust whatever weird fucking sixth sense you have going on, but—”

“Her bodyguard told me not to trust the man.”

Lars snorted. “He have proof?”

“I don’t know. I had to shoot him.”

Lars moved his head to the side and lifted a hand to his face. “Jesus, Milo—”

“Client’s orders.”

“The fuck?”

“Then there was a hit on the exact route I’d been told to take. Didn’t think it was bullshit after that.”

“Thinking there was an informant?”

“Yeah. My thoughts—the bodyguard.”

“But why’d he rat himself out like that? You make him beg for his life or something?”

Finn shook his head. “He didn’t beg. He was more concerned with her.”

“Seems to be happening a lot, people being overly concerned with this chick.”

He ignored the comment. “Soon as I can make contact with her father—”

“Milo, just take her to fucking Texas. That’s the contract. If her daddy said she’s to be shipped off to cowboy land, then you take her there. We take her there. End of the fucking story. Everyone lives happily ever after. ‘Cept for her, ‘cos she’s cartel and shit. Probably zero happy endings in store for her.”

Finn spun to him, and Lars drew up short. The torch light cast a bright glow on the snow below them, and reflected back into Lars’s eyes, making them look more white than green.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Finn whispered.

Lars gave a small shrug. “Strange…I was gonna ask you the same thing.”