Dashing Through the Snow (26 page)

“I don’t like this, Lil,” Smith told her once
the security guard had left for water.

“
You
don’t like it?” she asked with a
bit of waspishness. “Well, gee, how do you think I feel?”

Smith scowled and looked at her. They faced
each other like two terriers about to wrestle over a bone. “I’m not
going to argue with you because I know you’re in pain. Just know
that I’m only giving in because you’ve got your usual hint of
bitchiness back, and I can’t stand that weepy shit, so I feel like
I’m on familiar ground.”

Lily gave him the finger -- the one on the
hand that was still in full working order. “Your mama.”

“Is a beautiful, discerning woman,” he said
automatically in a dismissive tone, “who knows as well as you do
that I will pick your ass up and carry you out of here if and when
I think it’s necessary, and she would tell you that I know when I’m
being manipulated.”

Lily looked at him with tired eyes. “I’m
sorry. I just don’t want you to get in trouble, or hurt. And I knew
that the moment I decided to stay -- that first part about carrying
me out, I mean,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, cowboy,” she said again
and let her head drop onto his chest. “I’m just so scared, but you
probably already know that because you know me.”

Smith raised his hand to her head and began
to smooth it over her hair. “I certainly do. How’s your
finger?”

She moved her head under the caress and
sighed again. “Hurting like someone took it and pulled it and
squeezed it until it broke.”

Smith pressed a kiss in her hair. “Well here
comes the security guard with your water now, so we should be able
to get this show on the road.”

“She came running toward me about twenty
minutes ago,” Smith told the head of security later in the camera
room. “So maybe you could go back about twenty-five minutes?”

He put a comforting hand on Lily’s shoulder
and squeezed as they watched the footage from the Hall of Gems.
About four minutes in, he noticed two men walk out of the room.
Several things caught his attention at once. One of the men was
rather large, both in height and width and both men were checking
out their surroundings like they’d been up to no good.

“Stop,” Lily said.

Smith looked at her in surprise. “You
recognize someone?”

“No, but that big man’s coat and hat match
the gear that Kip described to me a couple of days ago. He probably
told you the same thing. Remember? He said the man wore a Fedora
and a long, wool coat.”

Having had the same thought, Smith nodded as
he studied the screen. He could barely see the man’s face because
of the Fedora, but it was a start, and the man’s partner’s face was
quite clear. “Yeah, I do.” He turned to the security guard. “Would
you mind printing out a copy?”

Chapter Twenty-two

December 19, 1995

He heard her on the trellis and pulled the
covers back to get out of bed and help her in. He’d been expecting
her for the past hour because he’d known once she’d heard the news
she’d come running to him. He went to climb out of bed but fell
back with a moan when it felt like the world was rushing around
him. The flu had kicked his ass.

He heard the window open. “Smith?”

His head lolled weakly on the pillow as he
turned it to look towards the sound of her voice. “Careful, Lily.
That trellis must be pretty slippery.” His eyes widened when she
climbed inside. “Where’s your coat, Lily-bud! And your boots?” he
asked after looking at her feet. She had on canvas sneakers, jeans,
a turtleneck and a sweater. There was at least two feet of snow on
the ground.

Lily pulled off her wet shoes and socks and
padded over to the bed. “Scootch over, Smith,” she said in a
stifled voice.

He made room for her and she climbed in to
lie in front of him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and
whispered into the top of her head. “Don’t, Lily. You know I can’t
stand it.”

“
I don’t know what you mean,” she said in
a tear-clogged voice. “I just came to see how you’re doing. How’s
your fever?”

“
It’s going to be okay,” he said with a
squeeze. “My moving away doesn’t mean we won’t see each other
again.”

She nodded and pulled his arm tighter around
her and took his hand in hers. “I know. Promise me we’ll always be
friends.”

“
Course we will,” he murmured sleepily.
“Best buds forever.” He felt her press a kiss to his fevered brow
and smiled at the cooling touch just as he was drifting
off.

December 18, 2011

Smith sat on the window seat and studied Lily
as she moved restlessly beneath the covers. A frown marred her
brow, even in sleep. Her coloring was off and she looked too
fragile amongst the pillows and bedding, her bare arm somehow
looking more slender and the shoulder he could see, bonier. They’d
ended up spending another night in Chicago thanks to the police and
a ridiculously long wait at the hospital. They both had been too
tired to undertake the drive back the night before, but had gotten
an early start that morning. Thanks to the pain medication she’d
gotten at the hospital for her broken finger, Lily had either been
tired or sluggish for the past eighteen hours or so. He’d brought
her home and put her to bed. Now he stood watching her and
contemplating what he’d do if he ever ran into the bastard who’d
hurt her.

His gaze landed on her hand and he scowled
from empathy and anger. The splint looked garish and out of place
on her slender hand. The doctor had said it was a clean break, but
when she’d had to put the broken bone back in place, Lily’s
blood-curdling scream and subsequent faint had angered and
terrified Smith. Helplessly, he’d caught her as she’d slumped
against him, his upset so evident that the doctor had offered him a
sedative.

The man’s efforts to crush her hand had
resulted in bruises coloring her skin from the wrist to the tip of
every finger. There was more skin bruised than not, and Lily found
it difficult to move her hand without pain. “Damn thing looks like
a fucking medieval torture device,” Smith muttered as he studied
the splint. It was a metallic gray and covered three of her fingers
-- the broken ring finger and the two surrounding it -- so that
only the tips poked out. Made of a kind of rigid plastic, it held
the fingers stiff and straight and wrapped around her palm to end
at her wrist. It was held in place by Velcro.

He sighed and looked at his watch. The Bears
game would be on soon. He wanted to watch it, but couldn’t make
himself leave her there alone. When he’d heard her yelling his name
in such a terrified voice at the museum the day before, he’d
experienced several emotions at once. There was fear; there was
panic and there was a fierce desire to protect at all costs. All of
those things had brought him out of his seat and running toward the
sound of her voice before he’d been aware of actually moving. The
sight of her stunned eyes and tear-streaked face as she headed in
his direction had neatly gutted him. He hadn’t been sure of his
control until he’d had her in his arms.

“Smith?” Her voice was slurred and sleepy and
Smith rose to go to her.

She smiled when she saw him and lifted her
injured hand palm out toward her face. “‘Live long and prosper,’”
she said weakly.

It startled a grin out of him, but also made
him realize that he was being too dour because she was obviously
trying to cheer him up. “‘Peace and long life.’” Separating his
fingers between the ring and middle fingers and stretching out his
thumb, he gave her the true Vulcan salute.

“Show-off,” Lily murmured as she snuggled
down in the bed. She sounded like she was already going back to
sleep.

Smith sat on the bed near her hip and
caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Hey, you need
anything? Hungry?”

Lily smiled and moved her cheek against his
hand. “Uh-uh, no thanks.” She took his hand in her good one. “Don’t
worry so much, cowboy. I’m all right. Now I know to be more mindful
of my surroundings even when they’re ridiculously distracting.”

Smith nodded pensively. “Good idea. Want me
to lie down with you?” he asked her. He wanted to hold her, but was
afraid to because he couldn’t get the idea of her fragility out of
his mind. He thought she might want to be held and since he was at
a loss as to what to do for her, but needed to do
something
,
he offered, thinking that she needed comforting. He’d never felt so
impotent in all his life.

She chuckled. “Cut it out, Smith. You know
good and well you’d rather be watching the Bears game -- even
though they’ll probably get their asses kicked as they have for the
past three games. Who knew one man’s broken thumb could make a
bunch of grown men fold like a bad poker hand?”

He laughed, once again surprising himself.
“Cut them a break. The entire team depends on the quarterback.
Though I admit; they shouldn’t be so fuckin’ lost without him.
There’s one consolation, though: at least there’s no chance of them
getting fucking
Tebowed
again. God, I hate that term!”

“Don’t hate just ‘cause Jesus obviously loves
him best,” Lily said drowsily as her eyelids slowly blinked
once…twice and finally just shut.

Chuckling and feeling a slight easing of the
anger and agony that had help him in their combined grip for the
past twenty-four hours, Smith kissed her forehead and stood,
suddenly deciding that watching the game sounded like a splendid
idea.

Lily stretched awake and then snuggled down
beneath the thick comforter again, burrowing one arm underneath so
her good hand could grab at the covers and pull them up to her
chin. She smiled, feeling as if she could walk among the living
again. Turning her head, she looked at the alarm clock on her
bedside table. Four o’clock. She’d gotten at least four hours of
sleep uninterrupted by pain, and was glad of it. Lying still, she
assessed her pain level and finding it low, she gave a nod of
satisfaction.

She allowed herself one last snuggle before
tossing the covers back and getting out of bed. She looked down at
herself. All she wore was a black tank and matching low rise
panties. A wave of heat washed over her and her knees went weak as
she remembered that Smith had put her to bed. He’d stripped her
down to her skivvies and poured her between the sheets. “God bless
Texas cowboys who take worrying to a high art,” she murmured, as
she vaguely remembered waking up more than once to find him sitting
on her window seat looking out for her.

She heard a sound come from downstairs and
cocked her head. Her television was on and it was playing a
football game. She allowed herself a slight anticipatory smile;
totally unsurprised that he’d stayed over. Yearning awakened like a
patient wild thing in her stomach and slowly, she walked from the
room to make her way down the stairs.

He heard her coming, and engrossed in the
game, said, “You should be in bed, Lily-bud. If you need anything,
let me get it,” he finished without taking his eyes off the
television. “Feeling better? You hungry?” She didn’t answer, but
the cushion beside him dipped from her weight.

Facing him, Lily sat on her haunches and
being careful of her injury, wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Smith lifted his hand to caress her arm. She nuzzled his head with
her nose, breathed him in and bending her neck a little farther,
took the lobe of his ear between her teeth. “Smith.”

Smith cocked a brow, his entire body on full
alert. She didn’t just say his name, she
breathed
it and he
shivered from the heat. “Sweetness.”

Lily licked his ear and planted kisses behind
it, the hunger she felt for him threatening to overwhelm her. “I’m
horny,” she said between soft, wet kisses.

Her voice was still breathy and he heard the
strain of sexual tension beneath it. He turned his head, got a good
look at her and narrowed his eyes to see what he could see.
Heavy-lidded, but -- and this was key -- pain-free eyes.
Sleep-tousled hair. Gorgeous, full lips.

He reached out to push some of her hair
behind her ear, smoothing it over her shoulder where he caressed
the soft, firm skin. Angling in to suck briefly at her lips, he
asked, “How horny?”

“Very,” she whispered, and leaned harder
against him, pushing her breast against his arm so that her nipple
hardened and poked his arm. Her breath caught and she dropped her
forehead to his shoulder. “Extremely.”

Smith felt her breath blowing softly against
his neck and growling low in his throat, tunneled his fingers
through her hair to pull her head back. His mouth covered hers and
he aggressively took what he wanted until they were both straining
to catch their breath. Her eyes were closed now and he bent to kiss
her eyelids before sliding his hand underneath her T-shirt to
stroke the supple skin of her back. He smiled when she moaned low
in her throat.

He continued to explore her body, taking his
hand over sleep warmed skin. The fingers of one hand tweaked and
pinched her nipples while the large palm of his other hand covered
her stomach and his fingers stroked her vagina through her panties.
She was soaking wet. He pressed gently, yet urgently, making her
squirm and whimper, “Please, Smith.” She grabbed hold of his wrist
with desperate fingers to hold him steady while she tightened her
thighs around his hand, rolled her hips and rode his fingers.

He watched her try to find her pleasure and
took his hand downward until he could slip his fingers beneath the
leg of her panties from behind. He kneaded her butt cheek, his long
fingers plying her skin skillfully. He took his finger over the
line between her cheeks over and over again until she was squirming
and pushing her ass into his palm. “Poor baby,” he crooned as he
continued to stroke her mound, “tell me what you want.”