Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) Page 4

  Emma nodded. “Delicious.”

  He passed his water to her, and Emma frowned, her eyes darting toward the unopened bottle.

  “Better to save that one.”

  Emma’s quiet response drifted away on the wind.

  He watched from the corner of his eye as Emma struggled to stay awake. She nestled deep into her captain’s chair, turning sideways to tuck her face into her arm. Her hair flew in the wind as she succumbed to exhaustion. Good. She’d need the rest.

  She whimpered softly in her sleep, and he stroked her arm.

  “It’s okay, we’re safe.” He was pretty certain that was true.

  Although she didn’t cry out again, the frown that marred her brow never lessened, an indication that her sleep remained troubled.

  Chapter Five

  The clouds had cleared, leaving a bright moon and stars to light their way. Cole stood at the helm, afraid if he sat, he’d collapse and never wake up.

  The chill air felt good. He glanced at Emma, curled in a tight ball in the passenger seat. She looked cold. Cole stepped to the storage compartment and took out a blanket. He draped it over her, tucking in the corners to create an effective barrier against the wind. She was beautiful, even with the mussed hair and smudged face. Hell, those imperfections only enhanced her appeal.

  What was he going to do with her? Although he doubted she was part of the drug ring, Weston Security had discovered communication between Jacob and one of Forrester’s customers, an influential and corrupt politician in South America. And two weeks earlier, a man who looked very like Jacob had appeared in satellite photos of the warehouse.

  Alistair had perfected the art of recruiting the young and idealistic. Some acted as unwitting pawns in his drug trade, ignorantly serving as mules in the exchange of drugs and sensitive information. Others were willing, if misguided, players, believing the drugs and secrets served a greater good, realizing too late that the greater good consisted of one brilliant, amoral, old man intent on rebuilding his empire and bringing Zach home to lead it.

  The men Alistair recruited were a small, elite group, among the best the armed forces had to offer. He had to have someone on the inside—someone influential vouching for him. Someone betraying not only the young men, but the United States.

  Proof. The communications and photos were enough for Weston Security, but both Homeland Security and the DEA were satisfied that with Forrester incarcerated in a maximum security facility and his store of illegal drugs confiscated and destroyed, the old man was no longer a threat.

  Cole and the Westons knew better—they’d experienced the wily, old man’s treachery firsthand.

  Now, Emma was involved in this mess. His fingers tapped a rapid beat against the wheel. He’d witnessed the bond between brother and sister during the brief time he and Jacob had hung out together. He’d admired, even envied, their unflinching loyalty when they’d both kicked him to the curb after he’d spent the night with Jacob’s girlfriend. One damned night that he didn’t remember and had never wanted.

  A pang of regret accompanied the memories.

  Although he found it difficult to believe Jacob had joined forces with Forrester, Cole knew from experience that trusting the wrong people endangered not only himself, but the people who counted on him. He couldn’t afford to believe the best of Jacob based on mere instinct. This time, he was the one who needed more proof.

  And until he could trust Jacob, he wouldn’t allow himself to trust Emma. Emma, with her indomitable spirit and expressive eyes. Emma, with knowledge of a warehouse she should know nothing about.

  At last, the sky began to brighten, signaling the coming dawn. A light appeared on the horizon, causing him to tense. Gradually, more lights dotted the dark ocean. He relaxed slightly. Regular traffic along the shoreline—much less threatening than a lone boat.

  He cut back on the throttle. He needed to clear his head. First, a safe place to rest, some real food, and a hot shower. Then he’d get to the truth.

  …

  “Emma.” Jacob’s voice echoed across a great distance. “Emma!”

  She forced her way through deep jungle, cutting the invasive limbs with a machete. Every time she cut off a frond, two grew in its place. Whack! Whack! She battled on.

  “Emma!” Her arm grew weary. Still, she advanced through the forest.

  “I’m coming.” Her voice broke on a sob. “Jacob, I’m com…”

  A snake dropped, coiling around her arm. “No!”

  “Emma.”

  Emma’s eyes flew open. Cole gripped her upper arm, shaking gently. Her heart raced as she took deep breaths, her eyes darting from side to side.

  There was no threat. And no Jacob.

  The sun peeked over the horizon. Tendrils of gold and orange painted tentative strokes across a deep blue sky. She straightened in her chair, starting when a heavy blanket fell to her waist. Her hand dropped to the blanket. She frowned at the feel of the coarse wool.

  She turned her hands palms up in her lap. Yep. Two fingers on the right and one on the left peeked through the tips of her once fine gloves, the fabric grown ragged from repeated encounters with the island brush. Her favorite luggage lost, her gloves headed for the first trash can she encountered, and the only progress she’d made in finding Jacob was in her dreams.

  This was all Cole’s fault.

  She’d been so close. If not for the explosion…tears pooled in her eyes. She looked into the wind, hoping to blame any moisture on the salty breeze. When she felt composed, she looked back at Cole just in time to see him look away.

  “We’ll dock in about ten minutes.” He stood at the wheel, back straight, legs splayed wide for balance.

  Fine. She attempted a smile, hoping Cole wouldn’t notice her insincerity in the pale light. She needed him, and although he didn’t know it yet, he was stuck with her. Another worry crossed her mind.

  “Cole.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t think…they didn’t hurt the old man, did they?” Emma folded the blanket and held it on her lap. “He didn’t even want to come to the island. He was just an old gardener in an old boat.”

  Cole stared straight ahead. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, he spoke. “I don’t think so. I think your ride headed for the open sea as soon as you were out of sight.”

  She said nothing, fascinated by the tic that appeared in Cole’s jaw.

  “What were you thinking letting the man drop you on that island alone with…with nothing?” He ran one hand along his jaw. When his hand returned to the wheel, the tic remained.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when a harsh laugh escaped his lips.

  “No protection, no backup.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Well, no protection except that ridiculous can of Mace.”

  She lifted her chin. Fine. She refused to explain herself, focusing on the first rays of sunrise instead.

  He tapped impatient fingers against the helm. “Okay, that wasn’t fair. You handled yourself well on the island.”

  The compliment would have carried more weight if it hadn’t been offered so grudgingly.

  Suddenly, she found his taciturn manner amusing. It reminded her a bit of Jacob and his reluctant concession when she won an argument. Maybe it was just the relief from being off that damned island, or the lack of sleep, but quite unexpectedly, she found Cole hilarious and began to laugh.

  …

  Cole glanced askance at her. What was wrong with the damned woman? Her laugh drifted in the breeze, her hair rioting around her head as the boat sped toward land. Her eyes sparkled, and he was reminded of her unexpected bravery, how she’d rushed in to help when she thought he was losing the battle on the beach.

  How she’d risked her life to save him.

  Slowly, her humor penetrated the tension that had dwelled inside him for so long it felt like a permanent part of his soul. Maybe he was funny. Hell, he’d been awake for so many hours, maybe his funny bone was impaired. Reg
ardless, he found her joy amusing.

  He chuckled. “All right. You win. You were great on the island. You exceeded all of my expectations.”

  “Damn right.”

  Laughter faded into comfortable silence.

  A feeling of loss welled inside him. This is what it might have been like that night six months ago. A wonderful, amazing, life-changing evening that somehow ended up with the wrong woman in his bed. He shook off the feeling. What was done was done.

  The next ten minutes passed in silence, the distant shore looming larger and larger before them. As they neared one of the island’s small docks, she spoke.

  “What now?”

  He glanced her way. “We get you to the airport and send you home.”

  She said nothing for long moments. Then a quiet no escaped her lips.

  “No?” He raised his brow.

  “No.” Emma stood, clutching the blanket in her arms. “I’m not going home. I’m going with you.”

  “Like hell!” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “You destroyed my only clue to my brother’s whereabouts. I’m not going anywhere except with you.” Color rose in her cheeks. She pointed at him. “You blew up the warehouse, and now you’re my best chance of finding my brother.”

  “Is that right?” He squashed his rising anger. “What were you doing at that warehouse anyway?”

  When she failed to answer, he snorted in frustration. “How did you even know about it? Either you tell me the truth, or we’re through. Don’t think I can’t lose you like that.” He snapped his fingers. “If I don’t want you tagging along, you’ll never keep up.”

  She stared at him, saying nothing. Stubborn woman.

  Just when he thought she wouldn’t respond, she said, “I received a message telling me to find the old man, he’d take me to the island. Then I was supposed to follow the path to the warehouse.” She glared. “The one you blew up.”

  He sighed. “How long has Jacob been missing?”

  “A week.”

  His face remained impassive. They’d lost track of Jacob a couple of days before her last contact.

  Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

  “I’m going with you.” Emma broke the stalemate. She narrowed her eyes, ready for a fight.

  “Oh?” He raised one brow in a gesture designed to infuriate. It worked. She lifted her chin, jaw set at a stubborn angle.

  He guided the boat into an empty slip, secured it to the dock with a sailor’s knot, then grabbed the backpack, and stepped out of the boat. Turning, he offered her a hand onto the dock.

  “You don’t even know where I’m going.” He stared at her, humor gone. The woman was too damned impulsive.

  “I may not know where you’re going, but since you destroyed the warehouse, I know you’re the only link I have to my brother.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Emma tucked her hat in her pocket. After tossing her gloves in a trash bin, she tilted her head back and finger combed her tangled hair into a ponytail. She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Wherever you’re going, that’s fine with me.”

  Cole leaned past her to snatch the backpack and a small black duffel bag out of the boat. He jerked his head toward the busy street and they headed down the dock toward town.

  He was careful not to smile. He’d decided to keep her close as soon as she told him about the note, and she’d played right into his hands. There was more to her story than she was telling. No way was she going anywhere without him until he had all the answers.

  Chapter Six

  The dock teemed with early morning activity. Gulls circled the seamen, swooping in for the occasional scrap.

  As they left the boardwalk and entered the street market, vendors called to passersby. The colorful island attire normally would have appealed to Emma. Today, it hurt her tired eyes. She missed the soothing darkness of their journey back to James Island.

  Cole slung the backpack and duffel over his shoulder, took her hand, and led her through the mass of humanity that grew more congested as they entered the heart of the market. Affronted by his macho behavior, she reluctantly clutched his hand and scrambled to keep up, as the quick pace threatened to separate them. Bodies jostled them from all directions. Each time someone bumped her from behind, she panicked, certain one of the gunmen had found them.

  Thanks to Cole, however, the only way the bad guys were going to make it to this island was if they were ironman swimmers.

  Unless they had another boat.

  The crowd thinned as they moved further inland. He waved down the first taxi they saw. She collapsed gratefully into the threadbare seat, barely noticing the cushion coil that poked her lower back.

  “Paradise Inn.” Cole sank back next to her, eyes alert. The cab lunged forward, asserting its place amid the honking throng of impatient drivers. They wove in and out of traffic, barely avoiding one fender bender after another.

  As the cab swerved to miss another car, laughter rose unbidden in her throat. Great. The cab ride might be more dangerous than their nocturnal race across the ocean. Horns blared as they swerved yet again, and a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob escaped her lips.

  …

  Emma’s cry drew Cole’s attention from their surroundings. He looked at her with confusion, frowning at the sheen of hysteria in her eyes.

  “Emma?”

  She turned toward him, the broad smile on her face bringing further concern rather than reassurance.

  “I was just thinking. Wouldn’t it be funny if after everything we’ve survived, after I’ve built a nice, secure life, after all of my admonishments to Jacob about being careful”—she dragged the word out—“wouldn’t it be funny if we died in a random car accident in a city where the yellow light doesn’t mean caution, but instead ‘hurry up and go’?” She flung her arm wide to encompass the chaotic traffic. Her hand dropped to her jeans, where she picked at a smudge of dirt as tired laughter threatened to break on a sob.

  The forlorn sound sent chills down his spine. “Emma, you’re not going to die. Not in a car accident, not in a shooting. Not today.” He stilled her hand, gripping it in his.

  Her laughter faded, leaving only the sounds of traffic in the old cab. When she spoke softly to herself, he strained to hear.

  “How did this happen? How did we get so tangled in deceit that we can’t tell truth from lies?”

  The car jerked to a stop in front of an inn, saving him from responding.

  Cole exited, paid the driver, and strode around to help Emma from the cab. She moved woodenly, ignoring his outstretched hand, and used the door to pull herself from the vehicle.

  Lifting her chin, she walked toward the hotel’s entrance while Cole grabbed the backpack and duffel bag. He caught up with her in three long strides. Hand at her back, he escorted her to the desk.

  “May I help you?” An eager young woman checked him out, apparently undismayed by his scruffy appearance. When her eyes flickered briefly to Emma, she wrinkled her nose before returning her gaze to him.

  “Yes, we need a room for the night.”

  “One room?” Subtle tones of disbelief accompanied the question.

  He wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her close. “The little woman and I just returned from one heck of a honeymoon hike.” He winked at the hostess. “One room, plenty of soap and towels.” He planted a kiss on Emma’s hair. “Right, honey?”

  Emma jerked her gaze toward him, fire in her eyes. Then, with an apparent change of heart, she smiled, slipping her arm under Cole’s jacket and pinching his side. “Yes, pumpkin.” She rubbed her head against his chest, and he wasn’t sure if more dirt rubbed from her to him or vice versa. They stared at each other, eyes clashing, until the hostess cleared her throat.

  “Uh, yes. Cash or credit card?”

  Cole pulled a money clip from his pocket, peeled off two hundred dollar bills, and set them on the counter. The hostess handed them two keys
.

  Resting his hand at Emma’s back, he steered them toward the grand staircase. Once upon a time, the Paradise Inn had been a place to be seen.

  “You picked a hotel with no elevator?” Emma mumbled under her breath. She swayed slightly.

  “It’s historical.” Cole flung the backpack over one shoulder and swept her into his arms. He climbed the worn, marble staircase with sure steps, aware that a deep shade of red infused her cheeks. Giggles from below floated up the staircase behind them.

  When they reached the top, she finally protested, “I can walk.”

  Ignoring her, he continued down the long hall, stopping only when they reached room 214, two doors from the back stairs. He set her on the worn carpet and jiggled the old-fashioned key until the lock opened. He walked inside, surveying the spacious room.

  A king-size bed stood against a side wall, covered in a quaint, white lace coverlet. Picture windows framed the far wall. He checked the window. The lock wasn’t great, but it would hold long enough to wake him if someone tried to open it. If the threat came from the hallway, the ground outside the window sloped upward from the lobby to the back of the hotel, so the drop wouldn’t kill them. He could live with that.

  He slid the bags from his shoulder then turned to see Emma standing in the doorway, exactly where he’d left her.

  She stared at him. “I need my own room.”

  Damned woman. Everything had to be a battle. “No, you’ll stay here.”

  She opened her mouth to protest again, but he held up his hand. “I know you’re an independent woman. You have tough hiking boots. You carry pink pepper spray. You swing a mean branch, but we’re not safe until we get off this island, and there’s no plane until tomorrow.”

  Emma said nothing. She was wavering. He knew it.

  “There’s strength in numbers. We both need sleep.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. Sighing, she nodded, entered the room, and turned to lock the door behind her. She stood facing the door for a moment and then squared her shoulders before turning around. “Look, we’re sleeping in the same room, but we’re not sleeping together.” Her eyebrows rose. “Understand?”