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Ice didn’t move. But Indy sensed a subtle stiffening in his frame, an almost imperceptible wave of rigidity that went through the tall man, like her words were affecting him in a way he couldn’t deny, couldn’t deflect, couldn’t defeat.
“I don’t think you understand the vulnerability of your position, O’Donnell,” came his voice now, low and deadly from his throat. He pushed himself away from the sideboard, took an ominous step in her direction, his fists clenching at his sides, big like cinderblocks, bigger than her damn head. “You have no friends. You have no allies. You have no options. That wise-crack about abandonment issues doesn’t feel so cute now, does it?”
“Trying to intimidate me with your size isn’t particularly cute either,” Indy snapped, that perverse defiance raging through her now, the stillness of the air making it hard to even breathe, her vision narrowing as her heat rose. She was operating on pure instinct now, pushing him in a way she knew was dangerous. This man had broken people before. She could see it, feel it, damn wellsmellit. But she kept pushing like she couldn’t stop herself, like she was coming undone, the mix of fear and anger and arousal all churning together in a hot soup of emotion. “Yeah, that’s it, keep stalking closer, clench those fists harder, crack your knuckles like a caveman, stomp your feet like a barbarian, snarl like a savage. Does that work with the other women?”
Ice’s fists clenched harder, and Indy swore she heard his knuckles crack in a way that sent chills down to her toes. She stared as he took another step in her direction. His jaw was tight like a wire, his neck clenched and strained, a thick vein throbbing along the side of his temple like the so-called Ice-man was melting into a puddle of hot rage.
Indy’s own temples throbbed now, the fear coursing through her body as she fought back the urge to egg him on further, to see if he would lose control and do something that would perhaps break him before it broke her. She knew this was dangerous, but she had to push him to the edge, had to know ifhewas for real, if he was bluffing or not, if he believed her or not.
Ice took another step, stopping close enough that Indy was overwhelmed by his warm scent in the hot room. He took a dangerously slow breath. “I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work. You know you’re beyond the protection of American law, so you’re trying to appeal to some outdated sense of chivalry, trying to shame me into feeling guilty for picking on a woman half my size.” He snorted, then flashed a wicked grin. “You don’t know shit about me, O’Donnell. And so you need to be very fucking careful. Trust me, you donotunderstand how much danger you’re in right now. Not from whoever’s trying to kill you but fromme. You think this is my first rodeo? You think you’re the first traitor I’ve had to break and then dispose of without so much as a headstone on her lonely fucking grave?”
Indy gulped back the tightness in her throat. Ice’s shadow loomed over her like a mountain. She blinked back her fear, closed her eyes tight, thought back to the way he’d handled her at the safe-house.
Cruelly, but also with care.
Now Indy flicked her eyes open and stared up at him.
“I think I’m the first woman you’ve had to break,” she said with a confidence that surprised her. “I know you were holding yourself back when you handled me in the safe-house. You threw me against the wall but not hard enough to break my cheekbone. If I were a man my face would have been broken in the first three minutes with you. Iknowyou’re a hard man, Ice. I feel the violence simmering in your blood. But I also felt the self-control in you, the discipline in you, the goodness in you, themanin you.” She swallowed hard, blinked twice as a trembling chill brought forth her next words. “I know I felt the man in you, Ice. The man who won’t let himself hurt a woman. Especially a woman that he knows is innocent, knows is a victim, knows is . . . ishis.”
Indy stopped abruptly, not sure what she’d just said, not sure what she’d meant to say, not sure where those words had come from. Her mouth hung open like she was grasping for the end of that sentence, for something that followed the wordhis.
But nothing came forth.
Thatwasthe end of the sentence.
His. Period.
Ice stared down at her like he’d been frozen. The color drained from his face as he took a staggering step back like her words had slammed into his chest. His big Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. His fists unclenched as he took another unsteady step backwards.
Then he doubled over like he’d been gut-shot, and before Indy understood what was happening Ice thundered through the open bedroom door to the bathroom, retching like he was throwing up a lung, hacking like he was emptying himself of something wretched and poisonous.
Indy listened in stunned silence as Ice retched and roared in the bathroom. Then she blinked twice and cocked her head when everything went quiet.
Deathly quiet.
Indy closed one eye and stared suspiciously at the two empty water-bottles in the waste-basket. Then she glanced down at her bound wrists and shook her head before looking up and sighing out a breath.
“Didn’t they warn you not to drink the water?” she muttered in semi-disbelief, pushing herself off the couch and bunny-hopping towards the bedroom and across the carpet, stopping when she saw Ice’s large body curled up like a groaning fetus on the bathroom floor.
He was just barely conscious. It was either a stomach-virus or food-poisoning. Amazing how a tiny bug could bring down a giant.
And nice timing, too.
Maybe it was something she said?
Indy stared for a long moment, let the half-amused disbelief run its course. She considered her options, then remembered the plastic ties around her wrists and ankles and hurriedly glanced around the room.
Her gaze fell on Ice’s duffel lying unzipped on the bed. She hopped over to it and exhaled when she saw a six-inch military knife in a synthetic black-resin scabbard.
Indy grabbed the knife with her tied-up hands, jimmied it out of its sheath, then sat down on the bed and positioned the knife blade-up with the handle held tight between her thighs.
Carefully she sliced through the plastic handcuffs, then quickly freed her ankles. She stood and rubbed her wrists, blinking at the still groaning Ice who was dry-heaving on the bathroom floor, his sunglasses shattered and spattered, the whites of his eyes showing as he gaped like a goldfish.
He looked completely helpless. Indy stood there and stared, a chill rising up her back when she realized she was free to go now.
She could take her gun back from his cargo flap. She’d leave her phone in case it could be used to track her, but she could get a burner phone easily enough. Mumbai was a cash-first city and her wallet was stuffed with American dollars and Indian rupees. She could disappear into the bustling city and figure out her next move. Maybe call someone she trusted in the CIA—her boss back at Langley, maybe even John Benson.
But now she remembered that Ice knew Benson’s name, had made some remark about Benson paying for this damn hotel room.