Scorched Ice (Fire and Ice #3)

“Two twenty-two,” Lou replied.

“He was right down the hall from us,” Julian hissed through his teeth.

Quinn rested her hand on his arm, soothing him with a simple touch. He didn’t know if she would ever realize the extent of her pull over him or how she could calm the storm of death consuming him with a simple look. His fingers slid through hers, gripping her hand within his.

“Let’s go see what Herb might have left behind,” he said.

“What about a key for his room?” Dani asked.

“We don’t need one and the security system is down.”

He led Quinn out from behind the desk. They walked around to the hall stretching beyond the desk to more rooms. He kept her close to his side as he jogged up the steps at the end of the hall with the others following close behind.





CHAPTER 13


Quinn stayed close against Julian’s side as they strode down the hall. Most of the rooms they passed were silent at this time of night, but one of them had music and laughter drifting from within as a few diehards continued to party into the early morning hours.

Stopping outside the door of room two twenty-two, Julian moved her so she stood against the wall while he remained in front of the door. She opened her mouth to protest before closing it again. There were things to fight over, and there were things to let go. This was one of those things to let go. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t allow her to stand in front of that door with him.

Luther and Lou stood behind her while Devon and Dani moved to the other side of the door. Julian released her hand, grabbed the handle, and jerked down on it at the same time he shoved his shoulder forcefully into the door. It gave way with a cracking sound that the music covered.

Quinn went to pull him out of the way in case something rushed them, but he’d already sidestepped so that he stood in front of her. His hands rested against the wall on either side of her head as his body molded protectively over hers while they all waited to see if anything would happen.

Julian lowered his hands from beside her head. He pointed to Devon, then himself, and then made some gestures to indicate he would go into the room. Devon nodded.

Julian bent down before stepping cautiously into the doorway. He crept into the room until he vanished from view. Quinn’s heart leapt into her throat as every horrible image of what could be lurking within raced through her mind. What if he was shot with a crossbow, or someone dove on him with a stake? She’d watched him die once already; she couldn’t do it a second time. A cold sweat broke out on her skin, and her mouth went dry as the seconds ticked by in her head.

Quinn took an abrupt step toward where Julian had been. Devon held his hand out and gave her a fierce look. She glared back at him before focusing on the doorway again. She had no doubt Devon would tackle her to the ground before he ever allowed her to follow Julian, but if she heard one off sound, she’d fight him to the death to get in there.

A light turned on within, and Julian appeared in the doorway. Devon lowered his arm when Julian reclaimed her hand. “Causing trouble?” he inquired of her.

“Nowhere near as much as you,” she replied.

“So very true.”

Quinn followed him into the room with Lou and Luther on her heels. Her gaze ran over the typical landscape paintings hanging on the beige walls. To her right, the fluorescent light in the bathroom illuminated the cream-colored sink. Beside the sink, a toothbrush, shaving kit, and hairbrush were still neatly laid out.

The carpet beneath her overlarge sneakers was the standard, gray industrial carpet found throughout the hotel. Her nose wrinkled as the potent aroma of cologne flooded her nostrils. It smelled like someone had dumped an entire bottle of it somewhere.

Devon closed the broken door after Dani stepped into the room. They walked by a coffee table, fridge, and sofa in a small alcove room before stepping around a corner and into the main part of the room. The red comforter on the bed was tossed back, the sheets a tangled mess in the center of the mattress. A book on the stand beside the bed was opened and placed facedown to mark the reader’s last spot.

Herb’s last spot.

On the nightstand on the other side of the bed, a broken bottle of cologne was tipped onto its side. A small puddle sat beneath it, but the rest of the liquid had run down the side to absorb into the carpet.

Herb had come back here after Julian had chased him, she realized, probably before he’d arrived in the arcade room. In his rush to get whatever it was he’d needed from here, he’d knocked the cologne over and left the broken bottle—just as he’d left everything else, including his open suitcase in the corner.

Erica Stevens's books