Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) Page 2

  Emma turned her head to stare at him, tears still glinting in her eyes.

  “What have you done?” Her voice, childlike in the early morning air, stirred unwelcome guilt in his chest. She stepped toward the burning building.

  He thought he heard her whisper, “Jacob.”

  He captured her arm again and pulled her back. He hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. He had no desire to hurt her, no desire to chase her if she ran. And he sure didn’t need to feel guilty about how their fledgling relationship ended six months ago, only hours after their initial meeting sparked a rare and powerful connection between them.

  Besides, he had questions of his own. “Why are you here?”

  She jerked free and shoved her palm hard against his chest. Her lips set in a firm line. The child departed; the angry woman returned full force.

  His hand shot out to capture her forearm in a tighter grip. “How did you find this place? Who else is here?” He pulled her up against his side. He surveyed the area, his focus shifting from the woman to the danger that lurked on this piece of land the residents of nearby James Island referred to only as Dark Island.

  …

  Emma fumed. The implication that she couldn’t have come here alone, that she was…what? Too stupid? Too weak? Somehow incapable of handling things alone? Cole’s insinuation brought welcome anger to chase away her despair at the destruction around her.

  Who was he to think she couldn’t take care of herself? Or her brother. She might lack the combat savvy Cole and Jacob possessed, but she was a highly intelligent and resourceful woman.

  Aside from the iron grip on her arm, the idiot man now ignored her completely.

  “Listen, you Neanderthal…”

  Cole clapped his free hand over her mouth and hissed. “Did you bring people with you?” She barely heard the words over the sounds of the fire.

  Emma glared and said nothing.

  “Shit.”

  Warm air blew across Emma’s cheek at Cole’s whispered curse. If his mouth wasn’t so close to her ear, she would have missed the obscenity. His gaze swept the clearing.

  A shout sounded from inside the jungle.

  Jacob?

  No. Unfamiliar voices spoke a language she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded. She wanted to be glad she wasn’t here alone with Cole.

  Instead, she was afraid.

  Cole glared at her, eyebrow raised in question. Urgently, she shook her head. The men weren’t with her.

  “Come on.” He removed his hand from her mouth, pulling her with him before he’d finished the order.

  His long legs devoured the open space as he veered away from both the footpath and the dirt road. Emma half ran, half flew, her feet touching the ground once for every two or three of Cole’s steps. They headed directly for the dense undergrowth on the far side of the clearing.

  Cole stopped abruptly. Emma stumbled into his side as he reached down to remove a section of the brush.

  “Back in.” He barked the words as he looked over his shoulder.

  Emma hesitated. The voices grew louder, the pounding of heavy boots mixing with the shouts. Crap. Better the devil she knew than the devils she didn’t.

  Dropping to her hands and knees, she scurried backward through the opening and found herself in a tiny cave created by the surrounding bushes and trees. Her feet hit something that wobbled, and she glanced over her shoulder. A dark green backpack blended with the surroundings in the weak light.

  She kicked it hard against the tree trunk that formed the rear of the enclosure, scooting as far back and to the side as she could to make room for Cole. The small space filled to bursting as he entered, his boots and strong legs stretching all the way back to the tree, his muscular body demanding more space. She scooted further into the shrubbery, ignoring the branches that poked her side. He stopped. Despite her best efforts to mash herself into the foliage, his broad shoulders refused to fit beside hers. She swallowed hard.

  He lifted one arm over her, pulling her out of the brush and beneath his chest. He rested his elbow on the ground beside her, half covering her body. His other hand cleared the opening and tugged the brush door into place, extinguishing all but a hint of light.

  He adjusted the leafy panel and inched backwards, pulling Emma with him. Finally, he settled against her, her body plastered against his.

  She felt more than saw him reach toward the barrier protecting them from the intruders. He slipped a small branch from the mass of brush, creating a sliver of window. Emma maneuvered awkwardly until she could peer through the break in the foliage with him. Four armed men burst into the clearing.

  They skidded to a stop. The tallest man gestured angrily toward the pyre with a submachine gun. He spoke rapidly in a language that sounded like Spanish but wasn’t. She didn’t understand his words. The gun he waved through the air, however, she understood just fine. Cold sweat pooled between her shoulder blades.

  For the first time since Cole threw her to the ground, she was profoundly grateful for his presence.

  Even if he was more of a snake than the damn branch that had scared her earlier. A grim smile crossed her features. More of a snake and more susceptible to her Mace.

  Mace. She was an idiot. As if a spray can would protect her from the men now jogging into the clearing. They stopped a few yards from the fire. Two slim men with mustaches appeared to be brothers, their features were so similar. The fourth man, stockier than the rest, screeched something and kicked at a pile of debris that had escaped the main fire, spreading hot coals across the clearing. The tall man stood apart from the others and pulled a satellite phone from his side holster.

  Next to her, Cole exhaled. Her eyes darted in his direction. Having adjusted to the lighting in their hideout, she could see his stark features in the shadows. She felt the tension in his body ease. Frowning, she looked back out at the men. Her brow cleared. They were standing almost in the same spot where Cole had tackled her. Stocky guy’s temper tantrum had likely obliterated signs of her struggle with Cole.

  Tall guy punched a number into the phone and made a quick call. Then he and the others began to canvas the area. Slowly, methodically, they searched. Stocky guy headed in their direction. Cole shot her a look of warning.

  Yeah. As though she was going to say something. She narrowed her eyes.

  Humor, and not the nice kind, flared in his eyes as his attention focused on a spot just in front of her. She followed his gaze and realized she’d instinctively pulled out her Mace as she backed into the hideout.

  Yeah, she was an idiot. She just wasn’t admitting it to him.

  Stocky guy neared their hideout and stopped. He slipped a flask from his jacket and took a long swig. With a glance over his shoulder, he returned it to his pocket.

  Emma held her breath. Stocky guy arched his back in a slow stretch and, patting his sidearm, turned away to join the others as they completed their searches.

  Minutes passed slowly. One after another until Emma’s adrenaline rush subsided, leaving behind a powerful urge to fidget.

  But if Cole could stay still, so could she.

  Two of the men stood guard. Another kicked through the wreckage as the flames died out. The fourth man, one of the brothers, took off down the path at a jog.

  Minutes stretched into hours as the sun peaked overhead and then began its descent. When brother guard returned with sleeping bags, the men set up camp a distance from the building’s now smoldering embers.

  Emma stifled a yawn, impressed that Cole maintained keen observation of the men when her mind continued to wander.

  She’d been sitting in her university office preparing the next week’s lectures on the Age of Enlightenment when the kid from the mailroom dropped the small package at her desk. Although hurried and sloppy, she’d recognized Jacob’s handwriting. She opened the box and smiled as she removed the hot pink pepper spray. She’d laughed when she realized he’d used the secret code they invented as kids, hoping he was letting her
know he’d be home for the holidays. Moments later, her hands trembled as she deciphered the words. Treason. Be careful and trust no one. I’ll be back by Sunday. Keep this safe. It was then she realized how rushed his normally neat script appeared.

  Keep this safe. Code words from the games of their youth. She’d opened the base of the spray cautiously, reluctantly, as if she knew it would change her in ways for which she was unprepared. Nestled inside lay the microchip.

  When Sunday came and went, she’d been frantic, uncertain what to do, having no idea where to go for help, where to leave the damned chip. Trust no one. Ironically, given her current predicament, she’d thought of Cole more than once, yearning to draw on his security knowledge. After all, Jacob himself had bragged about his new friend’s expertise during the dinner he’d arranged as a surprise blind date for them. Even now, she felt the shocking chemistry of that first meeting as if it were yesterday, remembered how the unfathomable depths of Cole’s blue eyes called forth a passion she’d felt with both her body and her heart.

  Of course, this was before he slept with her brother’s almost fiancée that same night, making it clear she’d misread the mutual part of the attraction. Now, she told herself, the racing of her heart derived from the current danger rather than any lingering, physical attraction.

  And if she was lying to herself about that, she’d never admit it.

  A tingling began in her forearm, radiating down into her hand and racing up to her elbow. Ah, ah, ah…damn! Her arm was asleep.

  She gritted her teeth and attempted to shift her arm, but Cole’s weight pinned it to her side. The jerk was oblivious to her discomfort. She clenched and unclenched her hand in an attempt to get blood flowing. That got his attention. Moving with excruciating slowness, he shifted his arm to relieve hers. The prickles of pain intensified. She bit her lip and attempted to move what felt like a dead weight. When she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, he began to knead her protesting flesh. Strong, capable fingers traveled up and down her arm and hand. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the ground as the sensation of pinpricks subsided.

  Cole continued the massage, sending fissures of pleasure along her arm. The soothing beat of his heart reverberated inside her head and lulled her into the first calm she’d felt in days. As she relaxed, the pleasure began to radiate toward other regions of her body and…

  She tensed as reality intruded. Hell no. She twitched her arm in an attempt to still Cole’s magic fingers. He ceased his ministrations. Unfortunately, there was no escaping the heat from his body or the rhythm of his heart.

  In the clearing, stocky guy started a campfire in the center of the sleeping bags, and the men cooked dinner. Tall man pulled a bottle of whiskey from the duffel, and they passed it around until it was empty.

  To Emma’s horror, her stomach growled. Too on edge for a proper breakfast, she’d eaten only toast this morning. Based on the encroaching darkness, that was more than twelve hours ago.

  The sun completed its descent, and a chill enveloped the island. The men settled in around the embers of their fire. She became increasingly grateful for Cole’s nearness, his warmth. Her eyes grew heavy despite her uncomfortable surroundings, despite the armed men lounging only yards away. Relaxing against him, she let go of her worries for just a minute.

  Her lids drifted shut. The man next to her felt good.

  Really good.

  Her eyes flew open. What the hell was she thinking?

  The last time she’d trusted him, he’d betrayed Jacob. And under no circumstances could she trust a man who’d so callously—so readily—betrayed her brother.

  Chapter Three

  Cole felt Emma relax. Her breathing slowed as she nestled next to him. Although they’d been close for hours, he was well aware that she’d held herself rigid most of that time.

  He might not trust her, but he did admire her. She’d been a trouper, hiding out in this tiny cubby, clutching her ridiculous Mace as though her life depended on it.

  As though it could fend off four men with MP7s, the compact and lightweight new generation of submachine guns. Someone with money was financing this operation.

  Another hour passed before three of the men slept. The man assigned to guard the camp—luckily, the lazy guy with the flask—took another drink. He turned the container upside down. Empty. He grunted and lounged against his backpack.

  Cole needed to stay and observe. After weeks of searching for remnants of Alistair Forrester’s drug network, he was finally closing in on answers. Somehow, Forrester managed to run his operation from the institution for the criminally insane where he’d landed after kidnapping Cole’s closest friends, Zach and Lizzie Weston. The man was crazy—crazy smart, crazy vengeful, and crazy evil. They should have killed him when they had the chance.

  The old man had nearly destroyed the Weston family. Zach now dedicated significant resources from his firm, Weston Security, to finding and destroying the remains of Forrester’s drug operation. After all, Zach said when he entrusted Cole with the search, the bastard is my uncle, and it’s up to family to clean up his mess. Though Cole wasn’t a Weston by blood, he was well and truly adopted—not only by friendship, but as a part of the Weston Security team.

  He’d searched the warehouse and then staked it out for three long, boring days, before deciding to blow it to hell. Now, the men around the campfire had information he needed. But the woman who slept peacefully beside him? Unfortunately, his honor demanded he see her to safety first.

  Minutes passed, marked only by the jungle’s night sounds. An owl hooted and small prey rustled in the undergrowth as the wilderness came to life. The flask dropped from the guard’s hand. His head jerked once…twice…a third time until, at last, he slept.

  About damn time.

  Cole turned toward Emma. Even with his uncanny night vision, she appeared more shadow than substance in the dark hideout. At his movement, her eyes flew open. The irises caught a sliver of the dying fire’s glow.

  “Time to go.” He mouthed the words with a breath of sound. Her eyes widened. She nodded.

  He glanced at the sleeping men. This was their best chance. It would be so much easier without his unexpected guest. He hesitated.

  He was certain she wasn’t involved with these men. Almost certain. Despite their instant attraction, he hadn’t known her long enough or well enough to be sure she wasn’t simply an amazing actress. When dealing with Forrester, one had to be very careful whom to trust.

  If she wasn’t part of Forrester’s team, he needed to protect her.

  Decision made, Cole quietly removed the brush entrance to their hiding place, placing it aside, along with his doubts. With minimal room to maneuver, he crawled out, taking care not to injure Emma as he levered his body over hers. He made little noise, and yet every scrape across the earth seemed to resound in the night. When his shoulders and arms were free, he pulled his Sig Sauer from its holster, never stopping his forward movement. Once clear of the thicket, he crouched low, angled so he could see both their hideout and the snoring men.

  Emma’s dark head appeared at the entrance, silky tresses slipping from the confines of her hat. Keeping the gun pointed toward the men, he waved her out with his free hand. She slithered into the open. Not as quiet as he’d been, but not bad. As she cleared the entrance, he saw that the backpack tagged along behind, her foot hooked through the shoulder loop. Despite their circumstances, he grinned. She stood quickly, turned to pick up the bag, and was ready to go. He replaced the brush cover to conceal their hiding place.

  Cole reached to take the backpack. Behind them, a man coughed. He spun, gun raised. The men slept on.

  Leaving the bag with Emma, he turned east and moved swiftly toward a concealed path opposite the one on which Emma had arrived. He glanced back to ensure Emma followed close behind, then jogged toward an unbroken part of the tree line.

  …

  As Emma kept pace with Cole, her heart pounded in her chest, the sou
nd echoing through her head, drowning out the sounds of the forest night. She settled the heavy backpack on her shoulders as she scrambled to keep up. Where was he headed?

  When they reached the edge of the clearing, he pulled a large branch back to reveal a narrow entrance into the jungle. He waved her ahead of him. She slipped inside, waiting as he followed and then pulled the makeshift cover down to disguise their escape route. Before it dropped, she could see rope in the moonlight. The branch had been rigged to create camouflage for this claustrophobically narrow path.

  Again, she wondered what Cole was doing here. The man owed her some answers, and as soon as they were safe, he would damn well explain himself.

  Cole brushed past Emma, holding her shoulders to keep her from tumbling back into the undergrowth. In the dim light that penetrated the jungle, she discerned the barest hint of a path. She shifted the heavy backpack and followed him, aware that he held branches out of her way so she could pass unimpeded.

  They traveled upward along a narrow trail for what felt like a long time before it intersected a footpath. When he paused, she looked back. She could see the faint glow from the fire. They hadn’t travelled as far as she’d thought. She swallowed. The fire burned more brightly, indicating that someone was awake and tending it.

  “Give me the backpack.” Cole spoke in a whisper,

  “I’m fine.” What was in the backpack anyway? Something important, or he wouldn’t want it. Visions of weapons and satellite devices flitted through her mind. Things she might need. Already her shoulders ached. But she wasn’t admitting that to Cole.

  “We’re going to run.” He reached for the backpack again. “A long way.”

  Emma shrugged out of the straps. She was stubborn. Not stupid.

  He turned.

  “Wait!” She hissed.

  He whipped back around, a scowl on his face.

  She opened her mouth, then shut it. Oh hell—she opened it again and whispered, “We’ve been hiding for hours.”

  When she stopped, his frown deepened. His hand tapped against his leg.