A Touch of Winter (A Short Story) by Evie Hunter Page B

hell had she thrown his favorite statue?
    Recovering slightly, Paloma stood upright, pushing away from him. 'Was that Abbie? You need to go after her.' She stepped back, putting distance between them. Then she gave a cry of pain. She had stepped on a piece of broken glass.
    Jack swept her up and carried her to the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood dripping in her wake. He was aching to get after Abbie, but he couldn’t leave Paloma injured and in need of attention. He managed to keep his hands steady and his voice calm while he pulled out a splinter of glass from her foot and bandaged it up firmly.
    Blackie and Brownie were surrounded by soggy confetti, and Blackie was chewing on a length of silver ribbon. Jack picked his way carefully through the glass to where his companion was slobbering over something shiny. He coaxed Brownie to give it to him, then whooshed the dogs away from the glass before wiping away the doggie drool.
    It was a custom-made silver and gold cock ring, the most beautiful one he had ever seen. And it was engraved with tiny Sheela-na-gigs. This wasn’t an airport gift, this was special.
    'Fuck! Fuck!' He raced to the sitting room where he had left his phone. Abbie’s number was the first one on speed dial. It rang once, twice, then cut off. He tried again. This time his call was cut off after one ring. Damn it. Jack dialed her work phone, the one that contained the private number of the President, the Mayor, the British Prime Minister, Prince William and half the crime lords in the English speaking world. It rang once and was cut off as well.
    Abbie was pissed at him, no doubt about that.
    He had to find her. 'Paloma, I’ve got to go after Abbie. Can you finish getting dressed and I’ll get the limo to bring you home?'
    'Of course. And you’ll explain what was happening?'
    He nodded, mind already churning with the problem of where Abbie could be. An hour later, he was showered, dressed – and going out of his mind. She continued to cut him off every time he phoned her and no one else had any idea where Abbie was.
    The longer he spent without her, the more angry and pissed off he became. This wasn’t the first time Abbie had run away when she was upset. Last time, it had damn near wrecked both of their lives. He wasn’t letting her do it again.
    He called Kit O’Malley, Abbie’s best friend. 'Is she with you?'
    'No. Next question.'
    Jack swore. He had counted on Abbie running to Kit. 'At least tell me you’ve heard from her.'
    Kit chuckled. She just loved annoying Jack. 'Yes, but I’m sworn to secrecy.'
    'For fuck’s sake, Kit, this is important.'
    'Everything’s important with you.' Jack continued to pester her, and eventually Kit relented. 'I can’t break a promise. All I can tell you is that we are in New York. We are not in our beach house in LA. There is no point at all in going to the beach house. None at all.'
    'Thank you, I owe you one.'
    'Don’t worry, I’ll make you pay,' Kit promised, and hung up.
    Jack raced for the six-car garage and ignored all the gleaming cars while he dragged out his Harley. His gut screamed at him that he didn’t have time to waste.
    He raced through the dark roads, ignoring speed limits and praying that he didn’t get stopped and ticketed. Not that he cared about the ticket, but the time lost would drive him demented. He wove his way in and out of traffic, thinking that he should have worn a helmet to disguise his famous face. Kit’s beach house had never seemed so far away.
    Finally he pulled up in front of it, and took his first full breath in over an hour. There was a light on in it. Kit was right, this is where Abbie was hiding out.
    He pressed on the door bell. He could hear it ringing inside the house and turned his head so that he was visible to the security camera. No one spoke or opened the door. He rang again. And again.
    Still no response. This time, he leaned on the bell, not letting it go. Just when he thought she was going to wait him