In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(71)

She jumped. “Hmm?” She tugged her earbuds out. “What?”

“Your mother, in her letter. She talked about a labyrinth.”

“Yes, she did.” Sveti waited for more.

“When you don’t know which way to turn, look to the source.”

Sveti looked blank. “I know. So?”

“Did she ever mention an actual, physical labyrinth? Any kind of place that a person might need directions through?”

Sveti shook her head slowly. “Not that I can remember. Why?”

“Look at the names of the poets. The last names.”

“I have, Sam,” she said wearily. “A million times.”

“Look again. The first initials of their surnames. RLLRL. Right, left, left, right, left. When you don’t know which way to turn, she said. Maybe she was giving you directions through something.”

Sveti’s lips went white. She opened her mouth, closed it again.

“Not that it changes much, if you don’t know where the labyrinth is,” he added. “It’s like having the pin code, but no bank card.”

Her hand came up and covered her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” he said, alarmed. “What? You okay?”

She shook her head, fumbling for the airsickness bag. She shoved the tray table up. “Bathroom,” she croaked, and fled.

Nice work. Make the lady toss her diet Coke, why don’t you.

He got up to follow her, and slouched against the wall outside the bathroom for what seemed like forever. He was just raising his fist to knock when the door opened. Sveti emerged, pale, but composed.

“Sorry,” she said. “It just got too real for me.”

“I hear you.” He held out his arms. She came into them, as if their bodies were magnetized. His body vibrated in tune with hers. It felt so good, but he didn’t dare get used to it.

Sveti couldn’t even pretend to watch her movie anymore. She’d hit the wall and sat there shivering, lips bluish. Sam called for cookies, sweetened tea, then bullied until she put the seat back and footrest up.

“I have to look at everything I ever thought I knew about my mother all over again, in relation to this,” she said shakily.

“Not right now you don’t,” he said. “You need to chill. Just shut down for a while. Close your eyes. I’ll sit right here and watch over you.”

She gave him a nervous, haunted look. “I can’t sleep here,” she said in a hushed voice. “What if I . . . what if—”

“If you have a nightmare, you have one. No big deal,” he said. “I’ll wake you up. I’ll keep it all together. Don’t sweat it. I’ve got you, Sveti.”

She gave him that swift, gorgeous smile. “Wow,” she whispered. “Thanks.”

He tucked her blanket and his own over her. Held her hand until she dozed off. Kept sitting there, like a fatuous fool, still holding it. He loved how it felt, when she trusted him.

He loved it way too much.



She ran through a dank, dripping cave with a sense of growing dread. She had to do something, save someone, but time was running out. Then the cave was a cinderblock tunnel, insulated pipes snaking along the ceilings. There was a hole in the roof. Light spilled in, the golden light of the sun. A hand reached down to help. It was Sam, and she leaped to grasp it, but it was too high. The light blinded her. She fell short.

Then she was in her bed, the bare, dirty mattress she’d slept on during her imprisonment. Magically, Sam was with her, and his presence turned it into a bower, a haven. He kissed her hands, twining his body with hers. She melted for him, opening—and everything went cold.

Sam’s face receded. Yuri’s rotting leer hung over her, reddened eyes triumphant, foul breath hot in her face . . .



“Sveti? Sveti! Wake up!”

She startled awake with a cry. Sam was bent over her, his hand cupping her cheek. She jerked away from his touch, panting. “Sam?”

“It’s me,” Sam said. “He’s gone. It’s just me now.”

“How did you know that I was . . . that he . . .” She stopped, licking her trembling lips. “How did you know?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I just knew that I needed to wake you up.” He leaned down, covering her cheek, her jaw, with a rain of hot, soft kisses. “I needed to remind you of who you are.”

She gulped, throat shaking. His hand stroked up, beneath the blankets, between her thighs.

“You’re so hot, here,” he whispered. “Were you dreaming of me, before that butthead came in and messed it up for you?”

She nodded.

“I want to go back into that dream with you. Tell me where I was. I’ll re-create it for you, right now. And I won’t let anyone elbow in.”

She laughed at him. “What, Sam, do you think you can chase my Yuri dreams away by f*cking them out of me?”

“Worth a try, don’t you think?” He stroked the hot spot between her legs as he flattened her into the seat and whispered into her ear. “So hot. So sweet. I want to lick you right now. Do you want my cock?”

She laughed. As if it had to be said. “But I can’t . . . we can’t—”

“Say it anyway. You know I love to hear it.” His voice was a caressing buzz against her senses. His hand teased, pulsed, stroked her through her jeans at just the spot where she needed him most.