One step, and the sun was effectively blocked by a long body, leaving me free to stare into those beautiful, mesmerizing, magnificent, blue eyes. Blue as the hottest part of a candle's flame. Blue as the center of a perfect block of . . . .

"Ice?" I whispered, the tears already starting to fall.

Their shape changed to a smile's almond as they warmed, their color deepening.

"Ice?" I repeated in a voice thick with tears. "Is that you?"

A black-gloved hand reached down, and without thinking, I grasped it. I was pulled up with an ease I well remembered and my shout was suddenly muffled against her chest as the feel and scent of sun-warmed leather encompassed me as much as her arms did, folding themselves around my body in a tight embrace.

My words came out like a flood of water over a shattered dam. "Oh my God. I thought you were dead! I thought they'd killed you! How did you get here? What happened to you?"

Further questions were lost in my sobs and she tightened her embrace, rocking me gently. Beneath the heavy leather, I could hear her own heart racing and I could feel the tightness in her chest that told me she was trying to control tears of her own.

Gradually, she released her tight hold of me, urging me out to arm's length and gazing intently at me, as if needing to memorize my features again. Her stare was so loving, so intense, that I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

Laughing weakly in embarrassment, I brushed the tears from my eyes, standing as a soldier might during a parade review. From the corner of my eye, I noticed some curious stares we were getting from passers by. I looked back at Ice, nervous once again. "You shouldn't be here," I said in a low-pitched whisper which I hoped would carry through her hood and helmet. "The police are still looking for you. It's not safe for you here. They . . .they could have sent someone to tail me." I knew I was sounding like a paranoid idiot, but my fears were real.

Her eyes warmed in a smile once again as she slowly shook her head. Then, for the first time, she spoke, her voice slightly muffled, but exactly as I'd remembered it. "I've been following you all afternoon."

My eyebrow creased in puzzlement. "You have? But, I didn't . . . ."

Shaking her head again, her eyes still smiling, she gently took my hand and led me over to her motorcycle, which was of a style I'd never seen before outside of the motorcycle races my father sometimes watched on television. It wasn't a touring bike, like some of the Harleys and Hondas that I'd seen outside the bars near my apartment in Pittsburgh. This motorcycle seemed to be built for speed and not so much for comfort.

Releasing my hand, she went over to the other side of the bike and picked up a second helmet which had been attached to the back of the molded seat, holding it out to me, her eyes full of questions.

Questions of my own, a million of them, flitted through my mind, but I could no more refuse that helmet than I could refuse to breathe.

Accepting the helmet, I pulled it over my head. It was a snug fit, the foam inserts dragging harshly over my ears. I kept the visor up, watching as she rounded the bike again and grabbed my sack of personal articles. The bag wasn't that big, containing as it did only a couple articles of clothing and Ice's book. It had two loops, which I slipped over my arms as Ice handed it to me, settling it comfortably on my back.

Picking up the bonsai, she walked back to the bike and lifted the seat, exposing a tiny carry space. She placed the tree almost reverently within, then closed the seat back up and swung her leg over the bike, straddling it once again.

Breathing deeply, I climbed in back of her, never having ridden a motorcycle before. The bike was built for the driver to lean forward, almost resting on the gas tank.

Once I was more or less settled, she took my hands and clasped them across her abdomen. "Hang on," was all she said before she kick started the engine.

And hang on I did.

We rode north, and north, and north, mainly through back country roads, but sometimes on lightly, and not-so-lightly, traveled highways. I spent most of the evening laying almost directly on top of Ice as she leaned over the cycle's gas tank, the handlebars at her chin, racing to beat the devil.

The miles flew by, my surroundings almost mystical, bathed in the diminishing glow of twilight spring. My terror with this new mode of travel almost caused me to dump the bike as my body rebelled against the gravity of the tight turns Ice was making at incredible speeds. Only her unparalleled strength kept us upright and moving.

Finally, I just gave up and gave in, laying my heavy head against her back and closing my eyes against the onrushing wind which buffeted my helmet. I felt my body relax and meld itself to hers, almost becoming one with it as we continued down the road and into the future.

After hours and hours of riding, my body stiff and sore and aching, my hands blocks of ice chapped by the early spring wind, we finally pulled to a quiet stop in a graveled lot outside of a rundown motel.

It took almost all that I had just to release my death grip on Ice's waist and straighten my cramped and aching back. She slipped off the bike with her usual seamless grace and then turned and helped me from my perch, releasing me as she dug into her pocket for a single key.

After retrieving the bonsai from beneath the seat, she led me over to a battered door and slipped her key in the lock. The handle turned easily and she ushered me inside.

The room was warm, small, and lit by a single lamp hanging over a battle-scarred table off to one side. A double bed took up most of the remaining space. A knapsack sat atop the tattered, threadbare quilt and I lowered my own sack of belongings to lay beside it. Then I unsnapped my chinstrap with cold-numbed fingers, sliding the confining helmet from my head and shaking my hair free.

From beside me, Ice copied my actions, pulling off helmet and hood and releasing her hair in tumbling midnight waves, running a negligent hand through it to settle the strands into some type of order. My heart doubled its pace at the simple beauty of the unconscious act.

She turned to me then, and smiled, and I fell in love all over again, tumbling headlong into a precipice I thought denied to me forever. Tears sprang to my eyes, and though I wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by her tender strength and powerful love, I needed one question answered; one above all others.

"Why?" That one simple word covered a hundred emotions, a hundred further questions. Why then? Why now? Why this?

Her smile grew tender as she stripped off her gloves and led me to the bed to sit beside her. My body groaned out its thanks for the soft padding beneath it.

"It was something I had to do," she said softly, looking at the table in front of us.

"I don't understand."

"I know."

"Then explain. Please. I thought I'd lost you."

"I know that, too." Her voice was faintly choked as she turned back to me, reaching out and grasping my hand, and pulling it into her lap. She kept her gaze focused on it, her thumb playing lightly over my knuckles, warming my chilled flesh with her touch. She cleared her throat. "When . . .I was in the hospital, recovering from my wounds, the warden . . .paid me a little visit. He told me that if anyone ever found out who was behind the shooting, or why Cavallo was even there in the first place, he'd make sure that you'd never see your appeal."

Her words, so softly spoken, froze me completely. "My God," I breathed.

"I knew right then that I could never go back. I needed to . . .take care of things so that his threat would never become a reality." She looked up at me, briefly, before looking down at our joined hands once again. "I was chained to the bed by a cuff around my ankle. But they put the cuff around a weak strut." She shrugged. "It wasn't that difficult to take care of that problem. Then, it was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity." She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "When it came, I ran."

"Where did you go?"

That quirky little half smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "I got a gun, from an old . . .friend. Then I went to Cavallo's house." Her smile widened, went almost savage. "It was payback time."

I moaned softly and her eyes darted up to mine again, before looking down once more, her long lashes lowered. "Yeah. Well, I made may way over to his house and took out a couple of his 'bodyguards'."

"Did you kill them?"

"Nah. They never even knew I was there. Just put 'em to sleep for awhile. He was upstairs in his bed. Alone." She laughed dryly. "Could never even pay for a woman. Anyway, I walked in there, right up to his bed. I put the gun to his temple, thinking about what he did to Josephine, to Salvatore, to me. About what he, through Morrison, was gonna do to you."

Her hand left mine and curled into a tight fist. "I wanted to kill him so badly I could taste it. My finger was on the trigger-just a hair's worth of pressure and it would have gone off, ending everything."

She tilted her head up toward the ceiling, her jaw working as she dragged her hands through her hair. "I couldn't do it," she whispered, harshly. "I wanted to, God, so badly. I wanted to end his miserable, stinking little life." She sighed, shaking her head. "But I couldn't."

"Why?"

"As I was standing there, watching him sleep, I thought about you." And here, her eyes came to rest, for the first time, on my face. She smiled slightly. "About that time when I had Cassandra's life in my hands. I remembered you telling me not to give up on my dreams, how she wasn't worth it. And I realized that if I went back to that person I used to be, the one who killed to get rid of my problems, that's exactly what I would have done." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "My dreams might not be much, but they were all I had. And I couldn't give them up. Not for him."

"Oh, Ice . . . ."

I reached out, and she took my hand in an almost desperate grip, holding it up to her chest. I could feel her heart thundering through the thin fabric of her simple cotton T-shirt.

"So, I walked away. I left him there, never knowing how close he came to never waking up at all. As I was leaving his house, I saw a notepad by the downstairs phone. The name of one of Salvatore's favorite meeting spots, an Italian restaurant in Pittsburgh, was written on the pad, together with a time and Sal's name written beneath. I knew it was a set-up, and I almost went back upstairs to finish the job."

"But you didn't."

"No. I decided to give Sal a warning. I went over to his place; didn't even know if he'd be in." She smiled crookedly again. "His guards weren't surprised to see me, for some reason. I guess wind of my escape had gotten out by then. But they let me by without much trouble."

"Was he glad to see you?"

"Not really. I was heat he couldn't afford. So I gave him my information, extended my condolences over Josephina's death, and left. I can't say he was sorry to see me go. And I wasn't sorry to leave. I realized, right then, that that wasn't a life I wanted to live anymore."

"What did you do?"

"Got on my bike and came out here. A couple of friends of mine own it." Her gaze encompassed the tiny room. "It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's safe enough, especially for someone like me."

"They had roadblocks set up all over looking for you. How in the world did you get past them?"

She smiled. "I think, at the time, they were more worried about who was coming in to town than who was going out. I knew Morrison would panic once he got word of my disappearance. I imagine a sizable chunk of the police force was guarding the Bog."

"They were. It looked like a policemen's convention."

Ice laughed softly. "I also figured that Morrison wouldn't dare to do anything to you with that much official business loitering around. He was hung by his own fears. I knew, too, that Salvatore would most likely take care of Cavallo if Cavallo tried to follow through on his planned hit. And if Cavallo fell, Morrison would fall with him."

"How did you know that?"

Her grin turned smug. "Who do you think planted those papers in his car?"

I gasped. "You didn't."

Both eyebrows raised. "Oh, I did."

Shaking my head, I let out a short laugh. "I don't know why I'm surprised."

"Anyway," she continued, "I hung out here and kept an eye on everything. I'm sure Cavallo knew I'd escaped before he went to try and take out Briacci. I have no idea what, other than ego, made him do it. But he got what he deserved, and so did Morrison."

Her smile became sad. "So, all I had left was to watch over you. I'll admit I went out and got pretty drunk when I heard you were granted the re-trial."

"But how? Donita?" My temper flared. "Damn her! I . . . ."

"No. It wasn't Donita. I'd never get her involved in something like this."

"Then who?"

Her silence gave me its own answer.

"Corinne," I said with growing certainty. "It was Corinne, wasn't it."

Ice nodded, slowly.

I bolted from the bed, my hands fisted in anger. "God damn it! I can't believe she would hide something like that from me!"

She held up her own hands. "Don't blame her, Angel. I asked her to keep things quiet."

I turned on her. "But why?!? Ice, I thought you were dead! Do you know what I went through? Do you have any idea at all?!?!?"

Her gaze dropped back to the bed. "Yes," she said softly. "But it was the only thing I could do."

"But why?" I asked again. "Why couldn't you just let me know that you were, at least, alive? What would that have done except ease my pain?" I was so angry, I was shaking.

"I wanted to, Angel. More than anything. But I couldn't. This was your chance to get what you deserved: your freedom. And if you knew that I was out there, somewhere, and that came out somehow, they could charge you with aiding and abetting a fugitive, and that chance would have been lost."

She met my eyes again, her own searing with the intensity of her convictions. "Your freedom is worth more than anything in the world, Angel. I did what I did because I had to do it. I don't expect you to understand, or forgive, my actions."

As I stared at her, my anger began to dissipate. Her actions were borne out of a deep love for me. That much I knew. And if I couldn't forgive the pain she'd caused, at least I could understand it and accept it as her truth. Loosening my fists, I returned to sit next to her on the bed, clasping her hand as she used the other to tenderly stroke my hair.

I smiled up at her. "So, ya spied on me, huh?" I asked, butting her shoulder with my head.

She crooked a grin back at me. "Somethin' like that, yeah. And when Corinne called me with the verdict, I hopped on my bike and drove down there as fast as I could. I got there about a half hour before you stepped out of the Bog for the last time."

Her eyes closed. "Seeing you again, it made my heart crawl up in my throat. I love you so much." Pausing, she wiped the lone tear which had escaped from beneath her lashes. "I wasn't going to talk to you, you know. I just wanted to see you one more time, make sure you got away safely. I would have made sure you had somewhere to stay until you were on your feet again. I suspect Donita offered."

I nodded. "Why wouldn't you have said anything?" I couldn't quite hide the hurt in my voice, and felt her stiffen beside me.

"Angel, you're a free woman now. An innocent woman. You can go anywhere; do anything in this life that you want to. I couldn't pull you back into my life, living on the run, always looking over your shoulder to wait for some police officer or simple citizen to recognize me."

She sighed. "But then, when I saw you in the park, when I saw the sunlight play across your hair, I couldn't . . . . I couldn't leave without telling you I loved you, without saying goodbye to you. You deserved that, at least. And then, when I had you in my arms, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't let you go. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn't. I know it isn't fair to you, and I'm not asking you to be with me. I just know that I needed to say more than goodbye. I needed to explain things. I needed . . .I needed you not to hate me."

The look in her eyes, so lost, so infinitely sad, broke my heart into shattered fragments.

"Oh, Ice. I could never hate you. Don't you know that by now?"

Her eyes were suddenly shy, and I caught a glimpse of the girl in that long ago photo. "I haven't been loved unconditionally for a long time," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I forgot what that was like. But your freedom . . . ."

Reaching up, I clasped her face between my hands, directing her to meet my eyes. "Ice, freedom means having the choice to decide what to do with your life. And that choice was made a long time ago. Being with you is where I want to be."

"But . . . ."

"No buts. My freedom has given me this choice, and I'm not backing down from it. You don't have to understand it. You just have to accept it. Or not. And that is your freedom."

"I can't let you give up your chance at a new life because of me, Angel. It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, because believe me, I do."

I could feel my eyes narrow. "So, what you're telling me is that I'm only as free as you'll allow me to be, is that it?"

"Damn it, Angel! If you stay with me, you'll only be putting yourself into yet another prison! Can't you see that?"