Shameless - Sybil Bartel Page 0,25

card. “There’s a Ritz Carlton just north of Jacksonville on Amelia Island. We should go there. They won’t find us. We can check in under a different name.” I’d done that shit a hundred times before. “We let their hotel security know not to tell anyone we’re there. We tip well and no one will be the wiser. They’ll even have room service. And we won’t need winter coats.” And there wouldn’t be any snow.

Concentrating on the road, staring straight ahead, he didn’t say anything.

“Shade.”

“What?”

“Ritz Carlton. Amelia Island. No snow. Turn around.” Sounding like him, I barked out short orders in rapid succession. “Let that Ronan guy deal with your psycho ex and her husband’s men.”

“No.”

“Shade.”

He threw me a warning glare before looking forward again. “The plan is set. The road up the mountain is a controlled funnel. Capture will be easier, and our position at the top is defensible.”

Oh my God. “This is insane.”

“Insane would be hanging out at a five-star hotel with a dozen different points of egress that Vincenzo’s men could use to ambush us. They shot at us in broad daylight in front of a restaurant.” He glanced at me. “You think they wouldn’t shoot at you in a hotel?”

Oh, God.

I didn’t answer. There was no point.

He tipped his chin toward the back. “Go put on the warmest clothes you have.”

Anxiety pressing on my chest, I undid my seat belt and climbed in back.

TWO HOURS SINCE SHE’D CLIMBED in back and changed.

Two goddamn hours, and I was still sporting wood.

The fucking visual of her lace thong as she’d stripped and given me an accidental ass shot before pulling on pants was playing on a loop in my head.

That fucking ass.

Goddamn.

Except the teenager and her ass were the last things I needed to be focused on.

The roads had been iced up since we’d gotten off the main highway an hour ago. Rain had turned to sleet, then snow. Despite the heavy weight of the armored SUV, the tires kept hydroplaning from the shit conditions and gusting winds.

Gripping the wheel, I eased us into the next sharp switchback on the access road up the mountain, and the Escalade swerved.

Summer gasped, grabbing her seat belt. “Shade!”

Cutting our speed, I corrected the Escalade and pulled us back from the steep drop on the single lane road. “Relax, we’re fine.”

“Fine?” Her voice pitching to panic Mach ten, she glanced at the fall away on her side of the road. “If we go over that edge, we’re dead. That’s like a two-hundred-foot drop.”

More like two thousand. We were already halfway up. “I’m not going to let that happen.” But I needed to get us the rest of the way up the mountain before any more snow dumped down.

“You can’t control ice and snow,” she argued.

“I can control how I drive.” If she would fucking shut up and let me concentrate.

The road already barely passable, I didn’t tell her we were minutes out from having to hike the rest of the way in. Which would’ve been the safer alternative at this point, except I’d been holding off on making the decision to abandon the SUV because she wasn’t properly outfitted and didn’t have decent boots. In this weather, she’d be hypothermic in minutes, but if I couldn’t keep the Escalade on the road, and if the nor’easter kept coming in as fast as it was, we’d have to risk it.

The tires spun on the next curve, and she shrieked.

“Woman,” I snapped, taking my foot off the gas as the vehicle slid backward. “We’re fine.”

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she chanted in a panic. “We’re going over the edge!”

Tapping the brakes and taking one hand off the wheel, I grabbed the back of her neck and spared her a glance. “I got us. We’re going to be fine. You don’t need to panic.”

Her eyes welled. “We’re sliding.”

I held both her and the wheel steady and let the SUV drift. “Put one hand on your seat belt and the other on the release. If I tell you to, undo the seat belt, no hesitation. Understand?”

Her lip quivered.

I put force into my tone and hold on her. “Understand?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, moving her hands into position.

“Good. Now let me drive. I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.” Releasing her, I checked the side mirrors and gave the Escalade a little gas.

“Shade?” She started to shake.

We didn’t move.

“What?” I gave it more gas.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered.

The wheels spun but didn’t engage.

“I told you I’m

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