Mia's eyes flew open, her gaze moving on the truck driver who was cautiously walking toward them, frowning as he tried to peer at their faces.
"Goddammit, put your arms around me and pretend you like what we are doing!" Neil warned against her lips. His mouth was imprisoning hers, the gun in his pocket was grazing her side, but he had released her wrists now. She could struggle, and very possibly, the truck driver with a friendly face would see that something was very wrong and come to her rescue.
And he would die.
Neil had ordered her to put her arms around him and "and pretend she liked what he was doing."
Like a puppet, Mia moved her leaden wrists from the snow and let them drop limply onto his shoulders, but she could not make herself do more than that and only allowed him to kiss her.