The Hunt for Snow by S. E. Babin

Belle seemed to have a whole lot of secrets I wasn’t privy to.
    “I have to get dressed,” Cyndi chirped and rushed over to her suitcase and started digging like crazy. Belle and I settled in soft recliners to wait for her. She reached for a magazine and cracked it open, and I studied her for a moment. Every time Belle made an effort, I was astounded at what a beauty she was. Her long chestnut hair was brushed to a burnish (Cyndi’s efforts, despite Belle’s numerous and colorful curse words), and piled into a messy updo. Long curls fell around her face, highlighting the soft brown of her eyes. She chose to wear a classic little black dress tonight, and even though it was modest, I thought she looked like Audrey Hepburn. Long slim legs ended with skyscraper heels, her only real nod to vanity. Belle had fan-freaking-tastic legs, the result of years of Pilates and a much lower intake of wine than me. I wondered again about her and Robin, and what happened to make her have the reaction she did around him.
    She caught me studying her and gave me a weird look. “What?” she snapped.
    I snorted. “You look great.”
    Mollified, she shrugged. “Thanks. You looked much deeper in thought, though.”
    I shrugged. “Lots on my mind today.”
    I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, so Belle and I chatted about unimportant things for the next few minutes while waiting for Cyndi to get herself together. By the end, she and I were both chuckling over Cyndi’s great luggage switcheroo. I was still pissed, but it was funny and sneaky. Not many people managed to get one over on me. I’d have to watch it around them for a while, just in case anyone else felt like being a joker.
    Cyndi stepped out of the bathroom, huffing like she’d just run a marathon. Her makeup and hair were flawless as always. White pants and a cerulean blue shirt hugged her body to perfection, and the nude heels she had on added a few inches to her petite frame. “Ready?” she asked. At our nod, she grabbed our room keys, doled them out, reminded us to grab our purses, and herded us out the door.
     
    The nerves started as soon as we stepped into the elevator. Memories of just a few hours ago played through my head, giving me flushed skin and a headache. Max was either hot or cold. So far I hadn’t seen any happy medium with him. Would he be there tonight? I wanted to see him, wanted to be with him, wanted to be his. But I didn’t want to die for it. I liked my life very much, thank you. Belle, sensing my distress, reached over and squeezed my hand. The lights on the elevator lit as we descended to the lobby area.
    I felt myself break out into a cold sweat, even though the air conditioning was down low everywhere in the hotel. If Naomi was going to make a move against me, there was a good possibility it would be tonight. Hell, who was I kidding? I was ripe for the picking the entire week I was here. Breaking into my room wouldn’t require being a genius. Magic and minions would do all the dirty work for her, and my guns wouldn’t stand a chance if they had to go up against her sorcery unless I managed to get the element of surprise behind me.
    I exhaled a deep, nervous breath, squared my shoulders, and waited for the elevator doors to open. One of my hands rested on the back waistband of my slacks, ready to pull my Sig out if we had any problems getting out of the elevator.
    “Oh ye of little faith,” Cyndi whispered. “Get your hand off your gun. It will be fine.”
    Says the girl who still thought it was fun to sweep and play with makeup. My hand twitched, resisting against me, but I pulled it away and let it rest against the side of my thigh. The doors of the elevator slid open and…
    Nothing. It was very anticlimactic, and I was as nervous as a whore in church. I blew out a breath, chuckled nervously at my antics, and stepped out with Belle and Cyndi close behind. The noise of the mixer from a few rooms down met our ears before we could even