Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin #1)(66)
Author: Gena Showalter

He slipped into the shirt and the pants, then with drew the clothes she’d brought for herself and tossed them at her.

“How about we leave the bag behind?” he asked as he tugged on the socks and boots.

What? “No!” Removing her coat was actually painful, the cold air biting at every section of exposed skin, but somehow she found the strength to do it. Next she shucked the dress.

Solo averted his eyes, saying, “It’s excess baggage, and I mean that literally.”

“It’s my life.” The sweatshirt and pants bagged on her, but oh, they were toasty warm, having been snuggled up to Solo’s body during the entire trek.

“I heard jewelry banging around in there.”

“Exactly.”

An eager gleam that rivaled the beauty of the moonlight entered his eyes. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

When she’d gone to hell and back for these? “Give the bag to me, and I’ll carry it.”

Frowning, he once again fit the strap over his shoulder.

“Solo,” she said.

“Vika.” Without another word, he linked their fingers and urged her forward.

• • •

Solo reveled in his freedom. He still wore the cuffs, yes, but he was no longer behind bars. He was no longer strapped to a wheel, a scratch pad for anyone with an itch. He had his woman at his side, and the only danger currently stalking them was the weather.

He’d listened, he’d watched, and he knew Jecis had stayed behind. Still, Solo wanted as much distance between them as possible tonight. Tomorrow, he would drag Vika what would probably seem to be a thousand miles, and the more they ran tonight, the less they’d have to trek while she was sore and hungry, her adrenaline depleted.

No, he thought next, he wouldn’t allow her to become hungry. The moment he had her tucked into a warm little crevice, she would fall asleep and he would hunt. But wow, already she was holding up better than he’d hoped. His tiny little fluff of nothing had a stubborn streak that wouldn’t allow her to quit—or even slow. She might appear to be asleep on her feet, but she matched him step for step.

“What are we going to do?” she huffed.

“Avoid the towns, for one.” Many Americans had moved to Siberia immediately following the human-alien war, since Siberia was supposedly the only land free of the otherworlders’ “taint.” Actually, otherworlders were usually shot on sight here. “My boss, Michael, has a cabin on the border.” Michael had homes in every state, every country. Maybe even every city. That was how he kept his agents hidden, no matter where they were or what they had to do. “We’ll make our way there.”

They reached a little clearing, where a tree had fallen, the center hollowed out by weather and age. No one would be able to hide nearby. He would see and hear anyone who approached. And he could share his body heat with Vika inside the stump. This was as good as it was going to get.

He dropped the bag beside the tree, urged Vika to settle inside the center, and worked on gathering nearby stones. He’d wanted ten but could only find eight. Oh, well. That would have to do. He cleared the snow from a small section of land and used the rocks to form a circle. Next he gathered twigs and piled them inside the rocks.

He sat beside Vika, claimed two of the stones, and struck them together.

“As much as I’d love to watch you create a fire that way, because it’s very manly and impressive and everything,” she said, “I’d feel guilty if I didn’t tell you there’s a lighter in the bag.”

He paused, looked at her, and arched a brow. “You came prepared.”

“I had help,” she admitted after a brief hesitation.

“Who?”

“Well . . .” She nibbled on her lower lip as she dug into the bag. Several minutes passed, and she began to mumble under her breath. “Found it!” Grinning, she pulled out a lighter and slapped it into his hand.

“You never answered my question, Vika.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, do you remember those invisible men we’ve talked about?”

“Yes.” He lit the end of one of the twigs, flames quickly catching and crackling and spreading to the others. Heat wafted toward them, and smoke curled through the air.

“I wasn’t ever going to tell you, unless you spilled first, but waiting kind of seems silly now, after everything. So, here goes. One of them helped me. His name is X and he—”

“X? My X?”

“Your X? You do see him, then.”

“I do. I’ve seen him most of my life.”

“Well, I started seeing him a few days after you were captured.”

He had no idea what to think about this development. X had never revealed himself to another person, never expressed a desire to do so, never mentioned doing so, and Solo had assumed it was an impossible feat.

“What has he said to you?” he demanded.

Vika groaned. “That question is the very reason I never mentioned his name.”

Same for Solo. But just like she’d inferred, they were past the point of holding back. “You’re going to spill whether you want to or not.”

“Fine.” Her cheeks bloomed a lovely pink. “X says he’s an Altilium and Dr. E is an Epoto, but I have no idea what either of those words mean.”

“They are Latin for ‘a charger’ and ‘a drain,’ and they certainly fit.” And they’d certainly told her more than that.

Mist billowed in front of her, creating a dreamlike haze. “So how is Dr. E a doctor?”

“Well, for starters he earned a doctorate in annoying me.”

She giggled as she said, “Make that two doctorates. I really like X, but I want to find a way to get rid of Dr. E.”

Solo was the reason the being had been bothering her, but she threw no blame his way. He did not deserve this woman, but he wanted to. He wanted to do whatever was necessary to become the man she needed. “Are they with you now?”

“No. You?”

“No.” So where were they? “What else did they tell you? And you had better fess up. Otherwise I’ll be forced to utilize my world-famous interrogation technique.”

Another giggle. She assumed he was kidding. But at least she’d stopped blushing. Solo didn’t want her embarrassed with him. He wanted her comfortable enough to confess anything.

“Well, X said I’m supposed to stay with you.”

And that’s why I like him best. He waited. She remained silent.