“Have you seen Holly?” Nolan asked again, banging the solid shining wood desk that separated him from Toby.
“She was just here a few minutes ago,” Toby explained. “Is she all right?”
“What did you talk about? Tell me specifically what she said.”
“Nothing really, we were just chatting. She asked if the roads were clear and if I was worried about getting back to my apartment tonight. Holly seemed concerned about me traveling the roads.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That my roommate has a truck and we only have about two miles to drive. If the main road most guests take up here is too icy, we take the service truck road behind the hotel because it’s shorter and not as steep.”
“Can you walk it?” he asked, looking out the window at the huge white flakes coming down and coating every surface. “Where would it take her if she did?”
“You wouldn’t want to,” he said, twisting his face up in confusion. “It’s dark now and the only things down there are a few apartment complexes, a really cruddy bar, and a little supermarket.”
“A cab wouldn’t come up here right now, right?”
“No, we’ve heard from the local transportation companies that they won’t be coming up the mountain.”
“But they’d make it to that area right? Where the apartments are?”
Toby shook his head, clearly trying to get what point Nolan was driving at. “A cab would be more likely to go to the apartment complexes than try to get up here.”
“Did you see Holly leave?” he pressed.
“No, we were talking, and then she walked off that way,” he said, pointing to the elevators.
“Are you talking about that woman a few minutes ago?” the girl next to Toby asked as she hung up the phone. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, accentuating her harsh and sharp features. “I saw her go out the side door.”
“Did she have anything with her?” Nolan asked frantically.
“Just her bag on her shoulder. I thought it was strange but figured maybe she was just getting some air.”
“Show me where the access road is,” Nolan demanded, feeling ready to drag Toby out from behind the desk if he had to. Luckily Toby was obedient by nature and ready to help.
He rounded the desk and his feet skid for a moment like a rushed cartoon character as he tried to get his footing. “You can go out these doors and through the trees there. You’ll come to the parking lot where all the staff parks. The road opens up just about a hundred feet past that.”
“Thanks,” Nolan said, setting out in a run.
“Wait,” Toby called. “You can’t walk down there. You aren’t dressed for it, and there is more snow coming. It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to.”
“It would be straight up dangerous for you to try to stop me,” Nolan called out his warning over his shoulder as he continued to trudge through heavy wet snow. He dialed Holly’s phone again and it instantly went to voice mail. But as he passed the parking lot he had something even better. Footprints.
The quick falling snow was threatening to cover the trail Holly had left behind, but that only fueled Nolan to move faster. The wind whipped at his face and his sneakers slipped comically out from under him every few steps, but he didn’t slow down. “Holly,” he called out, wondering how she’d managed to make this trek alone in the dark. He’d flipped on the flashlight on his phone but that hardly gave him enough light to ensure he wasn’t about to walk straight off a cliff.
The thought was crossing his mind as his feet slid in opposite directions, sending him rolling down the next ten or so feet of the road. His head thumped against a log and he knew instantly the skin above his eye had been cut. A warm drip of blood trailed down his face as he got back to his feet and started brushing off the wet snow. If he’d taken a fall and gotten that banged up the same could have happened to Holly. Or worse. He struggled to shine his light down on the footprints that were quickly vanishing under the new snow. “Holly!” he called again. But the night was so still and quiet that only his echoing voice could be heard coming back to him.
Unsure if the marks in front of him were still footprints, or if they were Holly’s at all, Nolan considered tracking back the half mile to the ski resort and asking for help in the search. If she’d fallen, rolled off the road, or was unconscious every second would count.
He looked up the hill then back down. Holly was tough and determined. If her plan had been to reach the small bar by the apartments and hope for a cab to be willing to pick her up, then almost nothing would have stopped her from that.
Nolan ignored the throbbing cut on his head, the icy wind striking his face, and the water soaking through his sneakers. The only thing that mattered right now was finding Holly.
Chapter Ten
Holly shook the snow off her hat and pulled off her gloves. The bar was a dirty windowless box with ripped bar stools and plumes of cigarette smoke. There were only about five or six people scattered around, all looking up at the television coverage of Times Square. A singer performed to the large crowd in the streets and the clock counting down to midnight showed less than five minutes.
She’d like to say this was the worst place she’d ever rung in a new year but at least it had booze. She took a stool and ordered a drink from the languid woman behind the bar. Forgetting her makeup was still dialed up to formal-event level, she smiled when the woman gave her a curious look. It wasn’t until she caught her reflection in the mirror behind the bartender that she remembered what a paradigm her life really was. Just a pretty face with too much makeup and soaked boots. Alone as the ball dropped. Alone like usual.
“You coming from a party or something?” the bartender asked, sliding her the beer she’d ordered.
“Yes,” Holly replied, not offering anything else.
“You going to kiss someone at midnight?” a burly man two stools down asked, leaning uncomfortably close to her, practically lying across the stools between them.
“No,” she said flatly, taking a long drag off the bottle of beer.
“A pretty girl like you can’t spend the holiday like this,” he protested, getting to his feet. He wore a plaid shirt that he’d outgrown, his large round stomach peeking through the gaps between the buttons.
“I really don’t want to break this bottle over your head before I have a chance to drink it all. Can you just sit down?” She turned her attention back to anxiously peeling the label off her beer. Nolan was all she could think about. By now he may have realized she was not at the party. He could have even gone back to the room and figured out her stuff was gone. With any luck he assumed she caught a ride out and was gone for good. She was clueless why he hadn’t confronted her when he’d heard about her past. The best she could assume was that he was being the gentleman she knew him to be. And that was even more reason to leave before she exploited that too.
“I’m not saying we have to make out,” the man said, attempting a bit of class as he pulled a comb from his back pocket and tried to tame his snarly hair.
“Sir,” Holly said, finally turning her full attention back to the man, “you are a representative of the United States Marine Corp.” She gestured at his tattooed arm. “You ride with a motorcycle club dedicated to protecting children.” Holly pointed at the patches on his snug leather vest. “A good man, right?”
“Damn good,” he boomed, pounding one hand over his heart like a caveman trying to communicate.
“I’m going to turn back around, drink my drink, and stare off into space while I wait for the cab I called. And I’m not going to worry about anyone bothering me because a good strong man like you is here. I’m going to be perfectly safe and free to wallow in my own misery just like everyone else here.”
The large man puffed up his chest and tossed back his shoulders. “Damn right,” he said, scowling at all the other patrons in the bar who couldn’t care less about Holly and her speech. “No one’s going to bother you while I’
m around.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “My name is Holly. I really appreciate you saying that.”
“Name’s Killer,” he said, flashing his yellow crooked teeth. “Um, my name’s actually Stuart.”
“Happy New Year, Stuart,” she offered, tipping her head and then turning back around to glance at the dwindling minutes on the Times Square clock. It was amazing what making something someone else’s idea would achieve. Reminding Stuart what a good man he was, reminding him he had a responsibility to help keep Holly safe, defused the situation. That was her super power. That was what she’d learned over the years to harness and wield when needed.
“Holly,” she heard Nolan call as he burst through the heavy wooden door of the bar. Looking like a wild animal, a trail of blood trickled down his face. He squinted and waved off the smoke someone had just puffed by his face.
“Damn,” she whispered, shaking her head solemnly. “He actually found me.”
She knew instantly her words were a mistake when Stuart the Killer snapped his head around to see Nolan. This is what it looks like when a plan backfires.
Chapter Eleven
“Holly,” Nolan said, closing in on her though she didn’t bother to turn around and face him.
“Is there a problem here?” a giant man made up of hair and tattoos asked, slamming a hand to Nolan’s chest before he could reach Holly.
“Stuart,” she scolded, touching the stranger’s arm gently, finally acknowledging Nolan’s existence. “It’s all right.”
“Doesn’t look all right to me,” Stuart asserted, shoving Nolan backward, sending his body tumbling into a nearby table and his mind into a blind rage.
“Who the hell is this?” he asked, wondering how Holly had managed to make allies in the time it took to leave him standing alone at the party.
“Stuart, really,” Holly said, putting her body between Nolan and the beast. “He’s not the problem. I’m the problem. Just let him go. Nolan, just go.”
“I’m not leaving here without you,” Nolan asserted, his eyes fixed now on Stuart, his center of gravity stable and ready for the giant to come at him again. “We need to talk.”
“You need to go get your head checked,” Holly said, gesturing up at the cut that was still bleeding. “It looks like you need stitches.”
“I’m fine. But I’m not leaving you here. We need to talk. I don’t care what that asshole Russell had to say. I want to hear it from you. I know there is more to the story.” Nolan glared at Stuart, watching for the slightest flinch.
“What if there’s not?” Holly asked, her voice cracking with emotion. “What if I am exactly what he says I am? What if it’s worse?”
“I don’t care,” Nolan lied, shrugging off the idea that anything could keep him from the feelings he had for Holly. “I just want to talk to you. I’m not ready for you to leave and not look back. Maybe you’ll be okay, but I won’t be. So if that matters to you, talk to me.”
“Damn,” Stuart gaped, his giant paw-like hand coming up and covering his heart. “Don’t do this to him Holly. The guy’s hurting.”
“He’s hurting because of me,” Holly said as though Stuart deserved some kind of explanation. “I’m not a good person.”
People in the room began a loud countdown that signaled midnight was approaching quickly. Just twenty seconds away.
“That was this year,” Stuart chuckled. “In fifteen seconds you get to start all over.” Like he was moving two tiny chess pieces on a board, he moved Holly by the shoulder and then did the same to Nolan until they were an inch or two apart.
“Five, four, three,” Stuart boomed out loudly just as the ball was about to drop.
Nolan looked deep into Holly’s eyes, searching for the piece of her he believed to be completely authentic. A low pathetic cheer rang out as the clock struck midnight and Nolan pulled Holly in the rest of the way for a kiss he never planned to stop.
It suddenly all felt brand new. The year, Holly, his outlook. Holding her, their lips on fire, crashing together.
“Nolan,” she said, pulling away.
“Yes?” he asked, full of hope.
“That cut is disgusting,” she said, arching her head back and pointing up at his injury. “We need to clean it up and put a bandage on it if you won’t get stitches. Plus you need dry clothes; you’re soaked, and you’re going to get sick.”
“How did you get down that two miles without ending up exactly like this?” he asked, gesturing at the mess that was him.
“Running away,” she said apologetically, “is kind of my thing. I’m good at it.”
“Then I better hold on tight,” he said, grabbing her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. “Because I don’t want to look around again and not see you there.”
“Man,” Stuart said, choked up with emotion and a hiccup. “What a guy. Don’t let go of this one, Holly. He’s one of the good ones. I can tell.”
“Me too,” Holly agreed but her words were laced with worry, rather than optimism. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she said, tugging him toward the door. “Happy New Year, Stuart.”
“You too, Holly,” he called far too loudly for the small room. “You can do this. It’s a new year.”
They stepped out into the cold, and Nolan looked down at Holly curiously. “Do you make friends like that everywhere you go?”
“I know how to handle people. That’s all it is, manipulation. Don’t look so impressed.” Her cheeks pinked either from the cold wind or guilt.
“Tell me, Holly. Tell my why Russell thought you were such a big problem. It’s not going to scare me away. I just want to know.”
“Later,” she said quietly. “We’ve got a long walk back to the hotel. We should just focus on that.”
As they made their silent trek back up the snowy hill toward the glowing light of the lodge, Nolan watched Holly’s face carefully in the low light cast by the moon, now that the clouds had blown away in the cold wind. There was a heaviness in her expression that made Nolan positive the ringing in of the new year hadn’t freed her of the pain she was carrying.
“Holly,” Nolan said, breaking open the stillness of the night with his words. “No matter what, everything is going to be all right. I promise. You’re going to be all right.”
She laughed, a breathy defeated laugh. “Thanks, Nolan. When you say it, I get as close to believing it as I ever have before.”
Chapter Twelve
Holly spun the knobs on the bath and poured in nearly the whole bottle of fragrant bath bubbles. The smell of ginger and spices filled the room as Nolan looked in the mirror to inspect the cut over his eye.
“You need to warm up in the bath,” she said, coming up behind him and guiding him gently to the tub. She stood in front of him and helped lift his shirt over his head. Tugging at his belt buckle, she dropped his pants down and he stepped out of them.
“Come in with me,” he said, leaning down and kissing her neck gently. “There’s room for both of us.” Before she could answer he was working the buttons on her shirt.
When the water was steaming and their clothes had all dropped away, Nolan and Holly sank into the tub, facing each other, a mountain of bubbles between them.
“I haven’t taken a bath since I was ten years old,” Nolan laughed, lifting a handful of the bubbles and blowing them over at her.
“I started out by just targeting the man who ruined my father,” Holly said, launching unexpectedly into the explanation Nolan had been waiting for. “I just wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt us. My mother really was a fortune-teller. That part was true. I learned very early how to manage people. I used that to take down Bruce Mulldon. I thought that would be the end of it.”
“What did you do?” Nolan asked, trying not to spook her but wanting to know more.
“I pretended to be a call girl,” Holly said, clearly not proud of what she’d done. “I basically had my own sting operation. I recorded him trying to solicit me and then I
blackmailed him with it.”
“Is that what you do to other people too?” Nolan asked, thinking about the men Russell surely associated with.
“No,” she said indignantly. “That was crude and very simplistic. The things I do now, they are enough to crush these men and their whole empires. But I don’t do it for my own gain. I live very modestly. I travel, I don’t stay anywhere too long, and whatever I make from these men goes to the people they’ve hurt. My targets aren’t random.”
“Oh,” Nolan said, an unexpected wave of relief flooding over him. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I can be down with a good Robin Hood scheme. Nothing wrong with robbing the rich and giving back to the poor people they stole it from in the first place.”
“It’s not quite that simple. Nothing I’ve done is. It’s muddy and messy and not something that lends itself well to having relationships. I’ve made the choice to live this life alone. I’m in too deep to stop now.”
“Do you want to stop?” Nolan asked, reading the pain on her face.
“I think so,” she shrugged. “I’m tired and even though what I’m doing is supposed to be a victimless crime or a justified one at least, it’s not without its stress. I don’t sleep. I don’t rest or relax. Getting in the car with you to come here, I meant what I said. I just wanted a break from myself, from who I’ve become. For the first time I wasn’t running toward the next target; I was running from myself.”
“What you’re doing is not the same as who you are,” Nolan corrected. “Who you are is the woman who put her arm in mine and promised to make me look good here. The woman who saw how unprepared I was, how bad I hurt, and knew she could help.”
“I’m so torn,” she sighed. “If I stop what I’m doing then these assholes keep winning. But if I keep doing it, I may not recognize myself soon. Lately, there have been times where I’ve lost perspective. Where the opportunity for a big windfall of money has almost tempted me from doing what I know is right. Once I cross that line, I won’t come back from it.”