Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) by Morgan Blaze

probably wasn’t in mortal danger.
    Maybe he just wanted her to come to his place…because he wanted her.
    But her wanting him was even less likely than a crowbar attack in an alley.
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    The Whispering Rose Bed and Breakfast seemed almost sinister as Winter parked in the back and climbed out of the truck. Silence lay over the parking lot, and nothing at all moved.
    At least there weren’t any dark alleys here.
    “You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. Adam’s concern, and the invitation to stay at his place in case someone tried to attack, had apparently affected her more than she thought.
    Or it could just be the idea of staying at his place.
    She still wanted him. There was no denying it, much as she longed to. Of course, he obviously didn’t return the feeling—the comment about her frozen heart made that clear, even if he had apologized—and that just made it worse.
    Slinging her briefcase strap over her shoulder, she headed for the private entrance to her room. The key was an actual metal one, not a plastic card like most hotel-type places used now. It was probably supposed to add to the charm. But right now, in the eerie silence of the parking lot, she just wanted to be safe in her room—charming touches optional.
    She fumbled the key, actually dropping it before she managed to get the door unlocked. Her heart sped, and her breathing grew shallow. No amount of telling herself how silly this was eased the panic. At last, she stepped through and closed the door behind her, leaning against it to release a shuddering sigh. “Now stop this,” she said firmly, and turned to lock up.
    That was when someone grabbed her from behind.
    She drew a startled half-breath, and a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, pressing her against a firm body. “Don’t move, and I won’t hurt you.” A male voice in her ear, a rasping whisper she didn’t recognize, oddly muffled. The arm around her waist eased.
    Her captive took the briefcase.
    She jerked hard, arms waving, searching for part of him to grab. Attempting to get a glimpse at him. When she tried to twist away, the hand on her mouth pressed harder and squeezed—mashing her lips, digging under her cheek bones until tears formed in her eyes. “I said, don’t move,” the voice repeated. “Or I’ll shoot.”
    A small, hard point jabbed into the small of her back. She stilled instantly.
    “Your investigation is over,” the voice said. “You found nothing, and you’re going to leave town now. Do you understand? Nod if you do.”
    She nodded.
    “Good. Now, we’re going to back up and turn around.”
    As her captor moved back, she stumbled along as best she could, highly aware of what was pressing into her. The door retreated. He pulled her around until she was facing the back of the room. “I’m moving my hand,” he said. “Not a word, Miss Solomon.”
    She remained silent, only drawing a harsh breath when the hand came from her mouth. She could still feel the gun against her, taste the heavy canvas of the glove.
    “On your knees. Lace your hands behind your head.”
    “Please,” she whispered. “I haven’t—”
    “ Now. ”
    Shaking, Winter complied as quickly as she could.
    “When you hear the door close, count to fifty before you move.” The pressure at her back vanished, and she heard footsteps moving away from her, then the click of the lock opening. “By the way, Miss Solomon, I wouldn’t recommend calling the police,” the man said. “Accidents happen. You should leave before one happens to you.”
    She gasped as the impact of those words hit her. Ben . She closed her eyes, but tears still slipped from them as she waited, not daring to breathe.
    It seemed like hours before the door finally opened and closed.
    Winter stayed in place, breathing in shallow sips and trying to regain control of her trembling body. It was well past a fifty count when she lowered her arms, and another full minute until she