“Truth time,” he said quietly.

He was surrounding her. It would be so easy to sink into his strength. Instead, she fumbled behind her for the door handle, pressing away from him. “Thanks for the ride, I’ll just-”

He slid his warm hand to hers, halting her movements. “What? What exactly are you going to do, Bailey?”

Find the money.

Turn it over.

And then hopefully live to a ripe old age somewhere warm, somewhere quiet.

To that effect, she shrugged off Noah’s hand and opened the door of the Jeep. Icy night air instantly hit her in the face, sapping the very breath from her lungs. Her feet sank into the snow. Already she couldn’t feel her fingers, but she managed to grab her bag. “Take good care of yourself.”

“Bailey, wait-”

“I can’t. But thanks. Thanks for…” She offered a feeble smile. “Everything.”

“Damn it, hang on-”

She shut the door. She imagined him swearing colorfully, but it was now or never because she was losing her nerve. The strain of keeping the truth to herself, and therefore keeping herself alive, was seriously beginning to wear on her.

She turned toward the gigantic resort in front of her. With Alan’s death, construction had come to a grinding halt.

Actually, that had happened when it had been discovered that he’d siphoned all of his money out of the business accounts. He owed millions of dollars, and yet the money had vanished into thin air.

Or so she’d thought.

Now Stephen was out there, sure she knew where Alan had hidden it, and he was on her tail.

Literally.

If she hadn’t already felt like a frozen popsicle, the thought of what he’d promised to do to her would have made her blood go cold.

But she couldn’t get any colder.

Behind her, the driver’s door to the Jeep opened. Refusing to acknowledge the small, tiny beat of hope, not to mention relief, she began walking, fast, toward the buildings, her every step sinking into the snow so that it crept up her boots, and then inside them.

“Goddamnit,” Noah muttered, grabbing her arm, bringing her around, his free hand coming up to her hip to hold her still. “I said wait.”

She wondered if he really did that on purpose, took such care in order not to hurt her, but even as she wondered, she knew it was true. He did take care not to hurt her. Just the thought brought a lump to her throat. She was so glad to have him here, with her, but she needed to get rid of him before they arrived, before they hurt him, too. “Go back, Noah.”

“No.”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice quivering. “You don’t know. You-”

“Shh.”

“Need to go back-”

“No, I mean really, shut up.”

Oh, God, now she heard it. An engine. Accompanying this was a beam of headlights, a car making its way up the road.

Toward them.

“Hurry.” He pulled her stumbling through the snow, slipping an arm around her to rush her along. Her bag banged painfully at her side, and she was so cold each movement was agony, but she didn’t slow down, couldn’t with the grip he had on her.

“How do we get in?” he asked as they reached the closest structure.

“This way,” she said, and they ran past the large double front doors, along the side of the building.

The headlights bounced off the snow in front of them, and she whipped around to look. It was one of the SUVs. The driver made his way across the parking lot, using his high beams to scan the buildings.

Noah pressed her back against the corner of the building, where they were hidden from view. He held her there with his body, the same body she’d lusted after more than once. She was so cold she felt as if she could shatter, yet being against him was heaven. A half-pained, half-aroused sound escaped her, one she was helpless to control, and he immediately pressed his mouth to her ear. “Don’t move.”

His body heat began to sink into her, so delicious she nearly opened her frozen lips and said, “I won’t move ever again if you don’t.” Every inch of him was pressed snugly up against her: chest to chest, thighs to thighs, and everything in between…

The sound left her again, horrifying in its neediness.

“Shh,” he said again, and slid a finger over her lips in warning.

Or so she assumed, because she doubted he’d meant the touch to feel like a caress, like a prelude to another kiss. God. One would think she’d been starved for sex.

Alan’s touch had been pleasant enough, even lovely, but never…necessary.

Noah’s touch felt necessary, and another involuntary sound left her-

The headlights scoped the side of the building, uncomfortably close to where they were hidden. Noah tightened his arms on her, either in warning or comfort, she didn’t know, but she took both, pressing her frozen face into his throat, reveling at the welcome heat she found there. There she stood, in the dark, wishing she could tuck her fingers and toes inside his clothes, wishing…

It was crazy, but she wanted to press her lips to his skin.

So she did.

He went utterly and completely still.

Time stopped.

Never in her life had she felt so aware of anyone, of his hands on her, of his heat, his strength, and when he lifted his head to stare at her, the air so cold their breath crystallized in front of their faces, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. They were both breathing a little more quickly than could be attributed to just adrenaline now, and he slowly reached out, stroking a stray strand of hair off her cheek. “Did you just kiss my neck-”

“No.” She shook her head, and that stray strand of loose hair flew around her face again, catching on him, sticking stubbornly to the stubble on his jaw. “I didn’t.”

Cocking his head, he just looked at her.

Oh, God, okay, she’d kissed him. She’d kissed him, and even now, with the embarrassment creeping up her face, she wasn’t sorry.

In fact, she wanted to do it again.

Clearly she’d sustained a head injury at some point along the way…

The headlights vanished.

Noah pulled back, and she bit her lip rather than let out a sound of regret at the loss of his body’s heat. “Let’s go,” he said. Once again grabbing her hand in his, he pulled her along as they ran through the snow toward the back of the building.

Here, the snow on the sidewalks was thicker, and they sank into it well past their calves. Still, they ran. Bailey’s sides burned, and she could barely catch her breath. The boots she wore were high-heeled and utterly impractical, and if Noah hadn’t had a grip on her, she’d have fallen on her ass.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Around to the back,” she said, gulping for air.

“You have keys?”

He wasn’t even breathing hard, the bastard. “I know the code.” Or so she hoped. It could have been changed myriad times by now.

Behind the lodge they came to a large open courtyard. In better times, this place would have been hopping, filled with tables and outdoor heaters, a stage for a band, the sidewalks lined with shops and cafes and galleries all lit up like Christmas, all year long.

Above were two tall buildings designed to look like a Swiss ski resort, filled with condos, but now they resembled two towering dark, looming ghosts.

Both were empty, she knew, except the penthouse, which Alan had designed and furnished for himself because he liked to visit during construction, and he expected to be kept in style when he did. The penthouse was huge, ridiculously luxurious, and overwhelmingly opulent.

He’d brought her here once, a few months before his death, to show her off at an investor tour. She’d worn a sexy cocktail dress and smiled as directed, and had felt like a piece of meat.

If the money was hidden here, then it had to be there, in the only finished area-Alan’s penthouse.

At the door, she hit the keypad with frozen fingers and clicked in Alan’s favorite number: 6-9-6-9.

“You’re kidding me,” Noah said, watching over her shoulder.

She felt her face heat, wishing some of that would make its way to her fingers, but then the doors clicked and she shoved them open.

Noah pulled her inside and shut the doors behind them. It was pitch dark, and they took a moment for their eyes to adjust. There wasn’t much to adjust to. She knew they stood in a reception area that had been planned to be filled with upscale sophistication and elegance, but for now it was nothing more than expensive tiles and wood and unpaid bills.

“Elevator,” she said. “To the penthouse.”

“The elevator works?”

“Everything works, this place was nearly complete, all except the designers and furnishings, when…”

When Alan had bitten the dust.

He held her back from turning to the elevator. “We have to stop them from getting in here.” His voice was disembodied in the dark. “Or we’re sitting ducks.”

A grim reminder that they were being followed. She resisted grabbing him and never letting go. “They won’t know the code.”

“That won’t stop them.”

His grim certainty, in a cool, calm voice, gave her a shiver. No, that wouldn’t stop them. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to.”

Horror filled her. “Kill them?”

“Hell, no.” She felt him shudder, and his reaction might have been funny if anything about this situation could have possibly been funny. She’d been surrounded by bad guys for so long now, she just assumed everyone was one. “Sorry.”

“Forget it. Let’s just get what you need.”

She’d have sworn she’d become immune to emotions after all she’d been through, but like before with him, her throat tightened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. If anything more strange happens, I’m calling the cops.”

Panic filled her. “The police can’t help me.”

“Of course they can.”

“No.” She wouldn’t give Stephen a reason to go after Kenny. Or now Noah. “No police. Trust me. They can’t help.”