By the time Patrick brought up the topic of Christmas, mine was nearly empty while my guest hadn’t seemed to touch his at all. Instead, he smiled at me as though I had all of his attention as he asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year.
I shrug. “Nothing really. My parents are taking a holiday cruise. Coming up to the mountains for a little peace was my gift to myself. Them paying for the week wastheirgift.”
“And that’s it?” He seems almost incredulous. “What about a list? Did you ask Santa for something to go under your tree?”
Why bother? All I wanted was five men to pay for hurting me, and theyhave.
Obviously, I can’t tell him that. So, hoping that the short answer will be enough to change the subject, I say simply, “No.”
“Why not? You’re allowed to want things at Christmas.” His eyes all but sparkle as he leans forward, still ignoring his champagne glass, as his eyes are locked on me. “Life isn’t fair, Noelle, but isn’t Christmas supposed to be?”
Now, he’s not wrong, but that’s not what has my breath catching in my throat.
Those words… they’remywords. Almost exactly what I had written in a journal so private that no oneelse has ever read it, and a stranger from my hometown just parroted my own words back at me.
And I’m not sure if it’s one big coincidence—or if being trapped in this mountain chalet with Officer Patrick North has fucked me up this Christmas more than I already was.
FOUR
LEAVES
PATRICK
Noelle doesn’t move a muscle. At least, not right away.
What a good girl.
Her reaction, when I do get one, is nothing short of subtle; if you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss it entirely. A pause too long. A careful blink that is more than just fluttering her eyelashes. Her fingers tightening around the stem of her champagne glass while her smile freezes on her gorgeous face as though she’s not sure she heard exactly what I said.
But Idopay attention. I always have, even before she commanded all of it. And when I threw her own words back at her, I didn’t do it for shits and giggles. This Christmas, Starling will be mine, but that means Idon’t have all the time in the world to claim her. It’s the 23rd, and while I could’ve continued in this little facade that this chance encounter is what it seems to be—a coincidence mixed with a touch of shit luck—I’m itching for Noelle to learn just how far I’ll go for her.
I’ve killed for her. I’ve lied to her for her own sake. I’ve cut her off from the outside world, courtesy of the mobile jammer that I stuck beneath the snow before I knocked on the door, the hapless guest who had rented out the same chalet. The jammer made it so that she couldn’t call the resort to verify my story or find me my own cabin to stay at for the holiday. The fact that I have access to her computer—courtesy of a favor I collected from Tanner Fielding, the Sinners Syndicate’s resident tech genius and hacker extraordinaire—meant it was child’s play for me to take a copy of her email confirmation, photoshop it to have my name on it instead, and print it out as ‘proof’ that the ski resort reservation team double-booked the same chalet.
Through her computer… through the journal she’s kept since those bastards did their best to clip Starling’s precious wings… I’ve gotten to know Noelle Halliday. A single glimpse of the woman in a coffee shop over a year ago has turned into a full-blown obsession. I’ve stalked her. Hunted for her. Gave her everything she wanted, and I’ve learned everything there is to know about her.
Would she turn a hapless stranger away in asnowstorm? At Christmas? Fuck, no. She did exactly what I expected her to do: she invited death in through the front door, and now she’s playing nice with him, eating cookies and drinking champagne.
Until I let some of Saint seep through the mask, giving her a hint that I might be more than I appear to be.
I can tell the moment she shakes it off. When she convinces herself that—like my arrival last night—it’s just another coincidence, that despite her instincts telling her that I shouldn’t be trusted, I’m in law enforcement. She’s safe, isn’t she? Of course, but not because of the badge I bought from Springfield PD’s own, Officer Burns.
She’s safe because she has Saint watching over her, and that’s exactly what I’m doing as I notice Noelle forcing her shoulders to loosen before she lifts her glass, taking a larger-than-usual sip like she can drown the awkward moment in champagne and holiday cheer.
I let a few seconds stretch between us, just to see what she does with them. In a forced and chipper voice, she murmurs that it’s getting late. It’s a way for her to end the evening on her terms, almost as though my words are still running easily through her pretty little head. I’d been expecting that; even before I made the pointed comment, I knew Noelle would use it as a reason to retreat to her room.
But if she wasn’t thinking about me before? She will be now, and that’s good enough for me.
So I murmur an agreement under my breath. My posture stays equally loose as I lean casually into the seat across from her. My hands stay visible, my own glass of bubbly untouched. My lips curve as the cable-knit sweater I purposely bought to play the part of the friendly resort guest rustles gently as I shift, letting her watch me closely.
Go on. Look at me, Starling. I’mharmless.
It’s true. With the sweater and the slacks instead of my thousand-dollar suit, all of my weapons out of sight, I’m no contract killer. I’m Patrick, not Saint, and I’ve spent half my life perfecting the act until I lay my trap and let it snap. For two decades, I’ve fooled men with guns and women with sharper instincts than hers have ever been into believing that Iamharmless. That I’m perfectly safe.
I’ve convinced them to trust me only to end up with them all on their knees before Saint, begging for mercy and receiving none.
Noelle… she’s different. Oh, I’ll have her on her knees like so many others, but she has nothing to fear from me. As I’ve proven since last November, I’ll give her everything her heart desires.
Except for her freedom, that is.
