20. CHAPTER 20
Miya
The Territories
Archai, Caspador
Miya's perfect opportunity to investigate Lance arose two days after they found the soldiers in the woods. With the winter festival underway in the town square, no one in Krowe’s estate was eager to pass up the festivities, except for Miya, because she came down with a timely case of the cold.
Cough, cough.
The headmistress blamed the late-night smoking breaks with Lance.
The charm of Archai tempted her to take a day to enjoy the winter celebrations.
Out the window, the trees stood like giant toothpicks, in such perfect-looking rows it seemed someone had taken the time to plant each one.
Fresh snow collected on the branches and bark, frosting the woods in a clean white sheet.
She pressed her hand against the cold window.
Another day. Today, she needed to focus on survival.
Ordinarily, Miya would strategize and build a stronger relationship with Lance. Navigating the situation with the captain meant staying a step ahead, and right now, she was several behind.
“What have you been up to, Mr. Lance Krowe?” Miya walked up the staircase and slid her hand along the burnished banister. When she reached Lance’s door, she checked for other people one last time and entered.
Neat and empty. Like no one even lived in it.
The large dresser against the far wall housed the usual types of floral decorations the Krowe's loved.
Lance placed nothing on top save for a pair of pants and a watch.
She searched through the drawers, memorizing the way he arranged everything, which wasn't difficult considering how little he stored.
Even after smoothing her hands along the sides and bottom to check for hidden compartments, Miya found nothing of interest.
She spent another thirty minutes in his room to be as thorough as possible, but her luck didn't improve. Disappointment and anxiety warred inside her. Come on. She needed information.
She'd carefully put everything back as she found it, then search the shed. If she worked up the courage, she might explore the woods where she saw the soldiers too.
Boom.
A door slammed on the floor below hers. Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Really?
She dove into the closet and backed into the corner, closing the door with her foot. There wasn’t enough time to register the fear before the bedroom door bashed against the wall.
A man huffed for breath as he slid to a stop. The slits in the door cut through her view of Lance grasping the dresser with both hands, doubled over. Blood smeared the mahogany.
He fumbled around inside a pack. Why wouldn’t he seek medical attention unless he wanted to hide his injury?
He may have been two-timing Krowe, and he definitely wasn't stumbling into danger by accident as an unaware fool.
Miya discovered useful information after all, but this wasn't how she wanted to do it.
Lance spun towards her, ripping a gun from the bag.
A shot of fear pulsed through every vein. Miya fell back, grasping for anything within reach. A shoe.
A shoe?
No. How useless!
Okay, Lance had no reason to shoot her. He wouldn't. Trying to calm her storming heart, she raised her hands in front of her face when the closet doors flew open.
His gun didn’t waver. Blood soaked a messily applied bandage around his midsection.
“Miya,” he said then, gun lowering.
She clutched the shoe with both hands. “Why do you have that—?”
“What are you doing? Get out of there.”
A normal person would scream or cry. Or scream and cry. Miya squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be too distraught to even hear his request. “Please! Don’t hurt me!”
He stared, expression unchanging. “Can we not play? I'm in a situation.”
With a wince, he stretched out a bloody hand to help her before looking down to see the mess and then wiped his palm against his pants.
Miya dried the tears she managed to squeeze out and rose, regarding him with a long warning look in those baby brown eyes. No more playing? Fine.
She kept her head held high as she walked along the dresser, eyes following the streaks of blood. “Having fun while Krowe is away?” Acid flowed through her veins. Miya just destroyed her cover with her target. Being hasty brought this upon her.
Lance held his side, wilting against the wall, the gun in his hand still, but pointed at the floor. “You too, apparently.”
“How’d you know I was in the closet?” Miya settled on the edge of the bed, crossed one leg over the other, and cupped her hands over her knee. At least now she would learn who Lance really was. And he hadn't killed her yet. She appreciated that.
“I didn’t.” He shook his head. “Just felt paranoid because the dresser looked different. I thought, what if someone's hiding in here? And you were.”
Miya didn't believe this in-over-his-head act. “Getting shot tends to make a person paranoid. That’s what happened to you, right? They almost got you pretty bad.” She wagged a finger at him. “Be more careful.”
“It barely grazed me. If you’re buying time until I bleed to death, it won’t happen. I don't think so, at least.” He pulled his hand back from the long tear in his shirt.
“What’ll Krowe do if he finds out about your escapade today?” she asked, sounding so calm that it tricked her into feeling a little better.
His skin looked pale already. Miya might be able to outlast him, even though he didn’t think it was all that bad.
“Not looking so good.” She tapped her wrist as if wearing a watch. “How confident are you that you won't pass out?”
“It’d be better for us both if Krowe didn’t hear about this.”
“Are you going to kill me?” She stood up now, needing to see his reaction.
“What?” His brows twisted. “Do you want to kill me?”
“You’re the one with the gun, dumbass.”
Lance looked at it like he had forgotten he held it.
“All right. Let's slow down. No one needs to kill anyone. That's crazy. I’ve got a peace offering.” He lifted the weapon by the handle, spreading most of his fingers far from the trigger.
“It's not even loaded.” That sloppy, boyish smile eased the pain in his eyes.
What the… What the hell?
Didn't matter.
Miya dropped to a crouch and slammed the gun out of his hand with her elbow. It clattered to the floor. No discharge. He shot a hand up, opening his mouth to speak, but she threw her weight into his gut and squeezed his injury.
Hurt him and run. Her specialty.
Lance shoved her back and knocked her onto the bed. “Sorry!” Doubling over, he grabbed his wound. “Let's talk.”
She’d already set her sights on the gun. Loaded or not, a good hit to his wound would hurt him enough to give her a head start. She dove for the weapon, scooped it up, and swung. But Lance didn’t dodge or counterattack.
The dumbass fell forward like a tree sawed off at the base, absorbed her hit somewhere on his body, and flattened her back on the bed with his horrible weight. His large body engulfed her own and squeezed the air from her lungs.
Flailing beneath him, she clawed at the bed, trying to drag herself out. Lance didn’t budge. He pried the gun from her and holstered it. Miya kept hitting, desperate and suffocating under him.
“Stop.” Groaning, Lance captured her wrists and pinned her arms against the bed beside her head. A halting breath crashed against her temple. “That hurts, Miya.”
She tried to head-butt him, but he jerked back. Too easily, he forced her arms above her head, clasping both wrists with one hand. He used the other to cup her forehead and hold her down.
Trapped.
Trapped, trapped, trapped.
She couldn’t escape.
She hated being trapped.
“I'll rip your flesh from your bones,” she cried. “Let me go, or you're dead.”
“Wow.” Lance gasped, pain straining his words. Hot and sticky blood dampened her midriff where his wound pressed against her.
Miya jerked against his hold on her with all her strength, but his awful weight and grip felt like chains. Or worse, like someone tossed her in with molten iron and now she was locked inside an impenetrable mold forever.
Hopeless.
Miya strained all of her muscles to break free. “You giant, stupid rock. I'm loading that gun and shooting you square in the chest. I won't miss either.”
“Okay,” he said. “This got out of hand fast. I think we need to start over.”
A raging bull of panic bucked her confidence, and she was left with nothing to defend herself. Nothing except the anger that built until she screamed in his face.
“Or not,” Lance said. “Can you breathe?” He lifted himself enough to relieve some of the pressure. “That was a little surprising.”
She gritted her teeth. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I actually know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah. That’s why you’re down there.”
Never had she imagined that he would simply fall on top of her. Undeniably effective. They’d never covered that one in any self-defense training at Rafferty.
Miya snarled. “You’re either lying or an idiot if you’re telling me we can talk this out.”
“We both need things,” he said. “I need to get bandaged. You need to get out from under me. Seems reasonable to use our words.”
“What? We agree not to tell?” Miya laughed. “We take smoke breaks and flirt?”
“That's what we've been doing. I don’t know who you are or what you want. You’re not my enemy until you prove otherwise.”
“Yeah?” She scowled. “Well, you’re my enemy.” Crying out, she fought to kick her legs and break her wrists free but only managed to wiggle against him. How humiliating.
“I’m here for Krowe, that’s all. For his protection. I'm not going to hurt you. We don't need to fight.”
“Don't treat me like a fool. You didn't get yourself shot protecting Krowe, or he'd send you somewhere safe to treat your wound.”
“He promised my people a payment I needed to check on.”
The story didn’t add up, not with the captain’s instruction for her.
But Lance's charade was so convincing. Being stuck beneath him panicked her too much to notice until now, but when she didn't struggle, the hands on her wrist turned gentle.
His body trembled from the way he held himself over her to keep from crushing her.
Miya looked down at his broad chest pressing into her and then slowly along that narrow space between their faces.
How foolish to fight so ineffectively. One look was all it may take.
Miya stared into his eyes, no longer fighting the crush of his body against hers.
Instead, she took away the distraction of her struggle, so he saw her pinned beneath him with nothing to protect herself.
To make him feel every place their bodies melted together.
Which was every fucking inch of her because he consumed her.
Calm. Calm. Calm. No fighting.
Miya breathed out slowly, struggling with her anger once more, when she only needed to arch. To glance at where she melted against his chest. Then she'd win.
A blush warmed his cheeks. Perfect.
“Sorry,” he stammered. “Shit. I'm sorry. I’ll let you go.” He turned his face away. “Just don’t attack me again.”
“Fine.”
When he lifted, their bloodied clothes stuck together until her shirt plopped onto her with a sickening sound. Instead of rising immediately, like her body screamed for her to do, she lay listless on the bed for several seconds, letting him see the position he left her in.
Look at that. His stare could have burned a hole in the ground. He uttered another apology.
Never mind that Miya tried to bash his wound with a gun. She saw the best way to win against him right now. His body may be big, but his heart is tender.
Using the dresser for support, Lance lifted his shirt and pried off his bandage, wincing. It looked like someone carved out a hunk of skin the width of a finger on his side. It didn’t appear deep, though. He was right before. He’d be fine.
Miya worked her way toward the door, but he didn't attempt to stop her or talk to her. “You aren’t going to ask why I’m here?”
“You're not going to tell me.”
“True. Don’t come after me. My boss will cut off all your fingers if you do.”
“I thought you were going to shoot me.” He dug antiseptic from the bag. “Which will it be?”
“Both if you interrupt me. This is important. Go into town and ask for a lady named Janey. She’s discreet. You’ll get an infection and die a miserable death if you keep fumbling around with it yourself. Not that I should care. You just look so pathetic doing it yourself.”
Lance looked dumbfounded. “Thanks. Be careful.”
Be careful? Miya blinked hard, and then she ran as fast as possible away from him, not wanting to risk him falling on her again and trapping her.
She needed to make an emergency call to Aiden and figure out what just happened.
Somehow, Lance made less sense than ever.