Ice by Linda Howard Page A

side of her face was bruised and swollen. Fury roared through him, swift and deep and startlingly savage. Some asshole abusing a woman pushed all his buttons, but somehow the fact that this was Lolly hit him particularly hard. He reined in his anger, because this wasn’t the time to lose control. He had to get her safely away from here; that was his primary goal. Much as he’d love to take on the jerks downstairs, they were armed and he wasn’t … and right now the weather was damn near as dangerous as two armed, high druggies. His only concern had to be getting Lolly and himself off the mountain. Everything else could wait.
    Besides, he wasn’t going to recklessly put his life in danger when he had a little boy expecting his father to come home. They were probably already missing him, wondering what was taking so long.
    “I saw two in the living room,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Are there more?”
    She shook her head. “Just those two.” Her voice was as low as his.
    He reached through the open window and cupped her bruised cheek in his hand; his glove was cold and wet, and it must have felt good on her face because she made a soft little moan and tilted her head against the leather. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, needing to know if she could make it down the ladder by herself. She’d been getting around okay, but adrenaline could be driving her; he’d seen peopledo some amazing things when they were riding an adrenaline high.
    “My shoulder and side are bruised, but I’m okay,” she replied in a whisper, squaring her shoulders. She added fiercely, “Let’s get out of here.”
    She had covered as much skin as possible, he saw; even her head and her ears were lightly protected with some folded material, and a flannel shirt tied over that. She’d layered her clothing and judging by the length of sheet in her hand she was making a pretty well-planned escape. If the window hadn’t been stuck, she might’ve been on the ground and well on her way to town by the time he’d found her.
    She dropped the rope of sheets and blankets and started to put one leg out the window. “Wait,” he said, thinking fast. If she tossed the rope out the window and left it hanging, and he put the ladder away after she was down, the assholes downstairs would believe she’d made it out on her own. That way if they were stupid enough to get out in the storm and come after her, they’d be caught by surprise if—or when—they discovered that she was not alone. Just as swiftly he disregarded the plan, because the bottom sheet would be flapping right in front of the dining room window, and might alert them sooner than necessary. He was holding his breath hoping they didn’t see the ladder through the window; at least the aged wood was dark, and not as easily made out as a white sheet would be.
    He surveyed Lolly once more. She’d done the bestshe could to dress warmly, but the rain would seep right through all those layers, and then she’d be in deep trouble.
    Moving carefully, the rickety ladder wobbling under him, Gabriel removed his poncho and handed it through the window. Lolly took it, then gave him a sharp look. “What about you?”
    “You need it more. At least my coat is weatherproof.” The poncho was covered with ice crystals, but provided much better protection against the rain than what she was wearing. His coat was heavy, he had gloves, and his feet were protected by warm, waterproof boots. The only problem was that the knit cap he wore wasn’t waterproof, like the cap he’d discarded in the truck, but he hadn’t known then he’d be giving the hooded poncho to Lolly. The knit would repel the rain for a while, but eventually his head was going to get wet, and that wasn’t good. When they got to the truck he’d retrieve his cap; he could make it that far without too much risk of hypothermia.
    “I’m going back down,” he whispered. “This ladder is half rotten, and it won’t hold both