Page 15 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

Leaving her a panting mess in the middle of the kitchen, I palm the hard on bulging through my tactical pants as I head over to the guys. Noticing my predicament, I give them a satisfied look, stating everything they need to know about what’s going down tonight.

Groaning, I can see Key swelling just at the thought. Atlas, as gruff as ever, grunts and re-arranges himself quite violently. I wonder if our sweet Grace will submit to us with open arms, or whether she’ll fight for dominance.

Fuck. Shouldn’t have thought that. There’s even less space in my trousers now, and I feel like I’m being choked.

Getting back to the task at hand, we work in silence as we don our winter coats and grab an ax and a gun each from the duffles. Heading out first, I try to open the door, but it’s stuck fast.

“Fuck. Atlas, I’m going to need a hand, brother. The lock’s frozen shut.” Moving out of his way, he uses brute force to dislodge the lock and, by the sounds of it, snaps it off in the process. Not that it matters. We’re safe here. In fact…

“Key?”

“S’up?”

“We need to set up the cameras. I don’t think anyone will make it to us with this raging outside, but just in case.” Grunting his affirmation, I chuckle as I hear his teeth chattering already.

“It’ll still close,” Atlas mumbles gruffly, demonstrating that the door absolutely will not remain closed.

“We’ll use some of the wood to fashion a barricade to stop the draft from coming in and to keep it shut,” I direct, patting him on the back as I notice the gaping hole in the door frame where the locking mechanism once was.

“Key, go tell Grace and ask her to put a door stop or chair behind it when we leave. I don’t want her getting too cold.”

“Or I could just-”

“Not happening.”

Tutting, he does what I ask as Atlas pulls the door open the rest of the way, the hinges frozen stuck. Key returns just as he manages to get the door fully open. A whistle slips my lips as we’re hit in the face with freezing, slashing winds and confronted with at least two feet of snow barring our exit.

Looks like this is going to be a very miserable trip outside. We may have warm clothing donned that we could use to walk around in a snowy town, but our clothing choice is by no means suitable for a snowstorm. It’s most definitely not waterproof either.

“That rolled in a lot faster than we expected,” Key mumbles from behind us. His adversion to the cold comes out in full force as he tucks his face as far back into his hood as possible to avoid the freezing temperatures. He’s always struggled with the cold. He’s a summer baby through and through.

I nod in agreement. “If we’d stopped off for that break, we’d likely be lost in the middle of this blizzard right now.”

Sick of our idle chit-chat, Atlas wastes no time in plowing his way through the snow with perceived ease, forging a pathway for us to follow. With his ax strapped to his back, his rifle over his shoulder, and his puffy winter coat on, he looks like the perfect embodiment of an ax-wielding murderer. I snort at the thought.

I suppose he is.

Gritting my teeth at the biting winds, we case the area before going much further. Everything is nearly completely whited out, meaning we could very well step off the edge of a precipice without even knowing it. Sure, the snow would cushion our fall somewhat, but it’s very easy to be submerged in deep snow and not get out again. Especially without a rescue team, and we definitely don’t have that at our disposal.

“Stay sharp,” I shout over the wind, not sure either of them can hear me.

Taking point, Atlas directs us towards the trees at the side of the house. We’ve already been out for ten minutes, but it’s taken us that long just to traverse halfway across the house due to the difficult terrain. Atlas heads over to one, but Key stops him.

“Not these ones,” he hollers. “They’re in front of the master bedroom. It’ll ruin Sugar’s view. Let’s get those ones instead.”Pointing just off to the right, Atlas grunts in acknowledgment, and we all find a tree of our own to fell.

Working silently, biting back curses at the bitterness of the storm, we make quick work of a couple trees and fashion a sleigh out of a few logs to bring as much back as possible. My face is frozen numb, yet each icicle that hits my face burns with a fiery intensity. My hands are so cold that it’s hard to tell whether I’m gripping the wood or not. I’m actually starting to worry about the possibility of frostbite.

Key is the first to head back, of course, and as Atlas and I start to return, a sharp whistle draws our attention. Waving at us from the opposite side of the front door, we trudge our way to him through the now chaotic and dangerous storm.

His cocky, yet irritated grin is the first thing I note.

“What?” I shout over the wind, getting straight to the point, the ice coating each one of my fucking limbs making me pissy.

“You’ll want to see this.” He turns and strides around the corner of the house without further explanation, and I glance at Atlas with a raised brow before sighing and following.

There, nestled away from the picturesque view of the front and sides of the luxury cabin, is a standard looking cabin amongst a bundle of thick trees and nearly completely buried in snow. I narrow my eyes as Key stops at the door and waits for us to reach him, and with a showman’s bow, he pushes it open for us to peer in, a slew of snow tumbling into the empty space.

“Ah, fuck.” Atlas groans loudly, and I must agree.

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