Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) Page 5

  He grinned. “Honey, trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is sex.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you get cleaned up while I order some food? There should be a nice robe. Toss your clothes out, and I’ll send them to be washed.”

  Emma disappeared into the bathroom.

  Cole’s smile widened when he heard her gasp.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma stood frozen in front of the mirror, her mouth agape. Her hair stood out in all directions despite her earlier attempts to tame it into a ponytail.

  She’d been brushing loose strands back all morning, but this! The salt spray had wreaked havoc, yet the wind had failed to sweep all the dirt and leaves from her hair, creating a cozy nest instead. She plucked at a wilted leaf that fell against her forehead only to find it firmly enmeshed in her locks. As she lifted both hands to work on the piece of greenery, she took a good look at her face.

  A streak of dirt marred her nose; another smudge marked her right cheek. The circles under her eyes were so dark they matched the grime on her face. Her lips had chapped badly in the wind, and a small cut had dried at the corner of her mouth. Her jacket was filthy.

  She grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed the jacket as best as she could. Then she tossed the raincoat on the far edge of the sink and took a deep breath. Yep, she smelled. No wonder Cole wasn’t thinking about sex. Her face flushed. He probably thought she was an idiot. And not for the first time.

  She started the shower and peeled off the rest of her clothes, longing for the fresh attire left behind in her suitcase. She rolled her clothes into a ball, and, cracking the door open, she reached one arm into the main room and dumped her laundry on the floor. Then she shut and locked the door.

  Steam filled the room. She grabbed the shampoo and soap and stepped into the blessed heat of the shower. The water pelted her, easing stiff muscles. Slowly, she lathered the bar against the wash cloth and scrubbed. Next, she shampooed and conditioned her hair twice, doing her best to work through the tangles.

  By the time she stepped out, her skin had pruned. She’d wrapped a towel around her head, and slipped into the robe before she noticed a bag on the floor. Certain she’d locked the door, she frowned. Had Cole picked the lock?

  She grabbed the bag, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but hesitated, hand on the door. Curiosity won out. She peeked inside. A toothbrush. And toothpaste. She returned to the sink to dump the contents on the counter. A comb, face soap, lotion, lip moisturizer. Maybe she’d let him get away with invading her privacy this once.

  She brushed her teeth with vigor and combed her hair straight back, tucking the front strands behind her ears. After applying lotion and lip gloss, she reached for her jacket.

  It was gone! In its place lay a soft, black T-shirt. Adrenaline threw her emotions into overdrive as she spun to confront Cole.

  She froze. Her jacket dangled from the hook on the door. With trembling hands, she checked. The note was still there. After tucking it securely in her robe pocket, she laid the robe on the counter and slipped into the T-shirt. It was huge, broad-shouldered, and long enough to fall mid-thigh.

  Cole had given her one of his shirts. The V-neck dipped low on her chest. Emma wrapped her robe snugly around her and knotted the sash. She scooped up her jacket.

  Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the suite’s main room.

  Cole sat at the round table, shoveling a last bite of food into his mouth. He glanced up, fork suspended in mid-air, and stared. She glared in return and, tucking a damp strand of stubborn hair back behind her ear, hung her jacket before speaking. “You came in while I showered.” What she really wanted to know was whether he searched her pockets. She’d already told him the contents of the note, but if he’d searched her things…

  Cole frowned at the accusation in her words. “I brought you things you needed.” His fork clattered to the plate. “The shower doors are frosted. For God’s sake, I wasn’t peeping.”

  Peeping? Good grief, she hadn’t even considered that. She watched, unwillingly fascinated, as red rose in his cheeks.

  He stood and smoothed his rumpled shirt. “I ordered plenty of food. I hope you don’t mind, I already ate.” He gestured at his empty plate.

  “I guess you were hungry.”

  “Starving.” His gaze flitted down her body. Although the glance was brief, she felt every bit of its heat. His eyes jerked back to her face. “If you don’t like what I ordered, we can get something else.”

  Emma stepped forward and lifted the covers from the remaining plates. A large salad, salmon and rice, asparagus, tropical fruit. A wrinkle crossed her brow. Almost identical to the meal she’d ordered the night Jacob and his girlfriend, Cherise, had indulged in a little matchmaking by inviting Cole and Emma to join them for dinner.

  The attraction between them had been immediate, but Jacob had been wrong about Cole being trustworthy—as evidenced by the fact that Emma had found a naked Cherise in his room less than twelve hours later.

  Although her brother had loved Cherise, Emma had always found her loyalty to Jacob suspect. Cole’s behavior that night, however, took her completely by surprise. Apparently poor judgment in matters of the heart ran in the family.

  Refusing to be impressed that he’d remembered what food she liked, she forced a smile. “This will be fine. Thank you.” She sat in front of the feast, ignoring him as she picked up her fork and savored a bite of salmon. For just a moment, she forgot her worry. He wasn’t the only one starving.

  “Hmm, perfect.” A drop of honey glaze trickled down her lip. Her tongue darted out to capture it.

  Sudden movement drew her attention as Cole stalked toward the bathroom.

  “Did you read it?” She lowered her fork, keeping her voice deliberately calm. “Did you read the note in my jacket?”

  He hesitated. The tic in his jaw was back. “Yes.”

  At least he was honest about it. “You had no right to go through my things.” She set her fork very deliberately next to her plate. “And I already told you about the note.” It’s not like there was anything in it that could harm Jacob. But the other note…well, she’d shredded Jacob’s cryptic message, just as her brother had instructed.

  She was still trying to decide how much to trust Cole. His rifling through her things did not work in his favor.

  “Yes, you did. I…ah, we’ll discuss this later.” He disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  She stared after him, surprised by his abrupt departure. The man was rude. She resumed eating. And untrustworthy. And annoyingly attractive—hell, he was downright hot with his piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, and broad shoulders. She frowned. It wasn’t fair he’d looked so hot before his shower when all she’d looked like was a hot mess.

  Still, if the intensity of his appraisal mere moments ago was any indication, maybe he hadn’t found her quite so unattractive after her shower. Taking another bite, she admitted she could be annoyed with him and not only find him attractive, but also enjoy the masculine appreciation in his gaze.

  Her enjoyment faded as she wondered what Jacob looked like. What he’d had to eat in the past twenty-four hours. A memory of the last meal they’d shared danced through her memory—spaghetti at her place a month before he disappeared. He’d seemed tense, his normally clear, brown eyes clouded with secrets. She’d had trouble keeping her eyes off the thin scar that ran along the line of his jaw near his left ear. He’d earned it on a mission the year before. Funny how, in retrospect, that scar seemed to scream at her that Jacob was in trouble.

  Unable to eat the last few bites of salmon, she pushed back from the table and climbed onto the far side of the bed, making sure the robe stayed wrapped securely around her. Closing her eyes to await Cole’s return, she tapped her fingers in rhythm with the monotone tick tock of the antique mantel clock.

  …

  Inside the bathroom, Cole’s phone vibrated again. He yanked it from his pocket. After impatiently wait
ing almost an hour for Zach’s return call, here it came, right when he and Emma were about to have a real discussion about her presence on the island.

  “Stevens.”

  “Cole, are you okay?” Stress radiated through the phone line. Nice his friend was worried about him, but really, Zach knew Cole was the best he had. Cole flipped on the shower to cover the sound of his conversation.

  “I’m fine, but you’re not going to believe this. Just as the warehouse was about to blow, Emma Bailey showed up. Armed with nothing but pepper spray.” He snorted and gave Zach a quick rundown of events, including his discovery of the note. “I don’t think she’s involved with Alistair, but she’s involved somehow.”

  Expecting an immediate response, Cole heard only silence. “Zach? You there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Energy crackled through the line. Something was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  “Alistair disappeared from the psychiatric ward last night.” Zach exhaled loud enough for Cole to hear it. “He’s free.”

  Those two words changed everything. Innocent or not, Emma was a pawn in a game where the stakes had just been raised.

  As long as Forrester languished in prison, they’d been fairly successful in monitoring his communications and interfering in his attempts to resume full operations—the man may have fooled authorities, but Weston Security knew he remained a threat. Despite the clandestine nature of Alistair’s activities, they’d managed to keep their own actions above board. Even the destruction of the warehouse hadn’t violated any law. After all, Zach was next of kin, and with Alistair in the mental ward, the property’s care had reverted to Zach.

  Cole leaned tiredly against the sink as they discussed the gunmen and their high quality weapons and communications equipment. Although it was possible the old man had somehow discovered Cole’s presence on the island, they agreed it was more likely the men had followed Emma. Cole thought he’d heard the gunmen refer to the lady while they were hiding. But why had they followed her?

  Ending the call, he ran one hand through his grungy hair. There’d been no sign of Forrester since his escape, but Zach had doubled security at his home in southern New York.

  Pulling his shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and groaned. He looked like hell. No wonder Emma had looked down her nose at him.

  Well, that and the fact that he’d searched her pockets.

  And, of course, there was the brief yet stunningly disastrous history between them. It had been over six months since he’d begun a discreet investigation of Jacob and found himself in a dilemma. He liked the guy, was inclined to trust him, and yet Jacob had appeared to be part of Forrester’s inner circle, not merely one of his dupes.

  Clearly the inclination toward trust was mutual, since Jacob had set him up with his sister.

  He shucked the rest of his clothes and stepped gratefully into the hot spray. Bracing his hands against the wall on either side of the shower head, he bent his head and let the water beat down his back. He tried to focus on what he’d learned during his conversation with Zach, but visions of Emma distracted him. With her wet hair combed straight back, her nose and cheeks flushed by the shower, she’d exuded sexiness—even hidden by the plush robe. The sight of her had caused his mouth to go dry, his food to stick in his throat. And then she’d licked that drop of sauce from her bottom lip.

  Trying not to think of her, he reached for the soap and scrubbed away the grime.

  When he stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, he felt focused again. Intent on his mission. He slipped into running pants and a T-shirt, and finger combed his hair.

  Committed to tracking down a very dangerous man, he’d keep his desire under control, quell his inclination to trust a woman who had other priorities.

  Cole opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Emma lay curled atop the bed, huddled inside her robe, asleep, her damp hair falling in disarray around her face.

  She whimpered and shifted slightly, her nightmares having followed her across the open water. Quietly he separated the clean dishes from the dirty, stacked the latter onto the tray, and set them in the hall. Then he shut the door, threw the bolt, and set the chain. As an extra precaution, he wedged a chair under the door handle.

  Next, he took the unused dishes and set them in front of the window, along with odds and ends from around the room. In the unlikely occurrence anyone breached the window, he wanted noise. Normally, he woke at the slightest sound, but tonight, well, he hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and he was exhausted.

  He closed the drapes, plunging the room into gloomy twilight. Then, undecided over just how chivalrous he wanted to be about the sleeping arrangements, he hesitated.

  Emma whimpered again, louder this time, and cried out softly. Telling himself they’d both get more sleep if he joined her, he sat on the edge of the bed. The soft mattress felt heavenly after nights on the hard earth. Gently, he shifted Emma’s feet and pulled the velour throw out from under her legs. He covered her with it, running his hand along her slender back until she quieted.

  At last, he stretched out full length on his back. The sound of Emma’s soft breathing expanded within the confines of the room. Although they’d used the same soap, she smelled better than he did. She smelled great.

  Moments later, as he journeyed toward sleep, she stirred, scooting until her back pressed against him. With a sigh, she quieted, never fully waking. He exhaled in frustration. It was going to be a long afternoon and, he suspected, an even longer night.

  …

  Alistair Forrester poured two fingers of scotch into a crystal tumbler and tossed it back, enjoying the pleasant sensation of warmth. It wasn’t the quality he preferred, but after a year in that hell hole of a sanitarium, it was good enough for now.

  When he’d realized the idiots managing his empire had allowed things to spin out of control, he’d moved up his escape timeline. Although it foiled his exquisite master plan, he wasn’t concerned. After all, he was Alistair Forrester. And Alistair Forrester always had a contingency plan.

  It was rather like playing chess.

  He lounged in his Italian leather chair and examined the computer screen. Three of his carefully selected drops had been identified and were no longer functional. One of his pawns had been taken out by Zach’s henchmen and was, he suspected, being debriefed at an undisclosed location. Then, instead of killing the man as he should, Zach would undoubtedly protect him until he could be safely integrated back into the land of the honest and hardworking.

  He raised his glass in silent toast. Good luck with that, Zach my boy, he thought. No one, not even my heir, betrays me and survives. He tossed back the second round. They would all pay. Zach’s payment had already begun. He would be frantic with news of the escape.

  Alistair chuckled.

  He clicked on a picture and the remains of his beautiful warehouse filled the screen, causing his smile to fade. Damn Cole. He was becoming a bigger pain that Zach. And then there was lovely, ignorant Emma. He’d remove her from the board as well because…well, because he could.

  But first, she had something he needed.

  His men had failed to secure her at the island, failed to even realize Stevens was there until it was too late. And now, with his resources seriously depleted, he had no one in the immediate area to retrieve his men and head to James Island. Perhaps he’d be able to intercept Cole and Emma, but if not? Well, it was time to increase the stakes regardless. He would use everything that happened, even the unfortunate losses, to his advantage.

  He reached for the phone.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma felt safe. And warm. Protected.

  Odd, she hadn’t felt safe since Jacob disappeared. Truthfully, she hadn’t felt safe since their parents died. But as she lazed in the world midway between sleep and wakefulness, she felt secure. It was a wonderful feeling.

  She stretched out one leg and pulled it back when her t
oes encountered cool sheets. She scooted backward, attempting to cuddle closer to the source of the heat at her back.

  “Hmmm.” A soft sigh of contentment escaped as her eyes reluctantly opened. She froze. The source of warmth that blanketed her backside, the arm that curled enticingly around her body belonged to…

  Cole.

  She’d imagined a moment like this in her dreams. However, in her dreams, the big hand resting below her breast had caused passion to race through her blood, not anxiety. She needed to put a safe distance between her desires and the man who’d raided her jacket pockets—immediately.

  At the sound of Cole’s slow, even breathing, she forced herself to relax, relieved he slept soundly. Tugging her gaping robe back together as best she could, she carefully eased her legs away from him. Slipping out from under his arm, she slid to the floor. When he shifted slightly, she held her breath, then sighed in relief when he continued to sleep.

  She studied him regretfully. He looked so young when the harsh lines of his brow softened. His short hair stood at crazy angles, tousled from sleep. She had to admit that while she might not like him, definitely didn’t trust him, she still found him incredibly attractive. It embarrassed her to remember how appealing she’d found him six months ago.

  She turned and tiptoed across the room. As she approached the window, she stubbed her toe and cried out before she could stop herself. What the…? She glared at the offending marble bookend. Beside it sat two cups, a plate, and various towers of books. The clock from the mantle joined the odd array of items on the floor.

  Realization dawned, and she snorted silently, not overly impressed with Cole’s back up plan. With a glance at him, she limped through the minefield and settled into the oversized chair. Feet tucked beneath her, she reached into her pocket to remove the anonymous note. She opened it and smoothed the well-worn folds, searching in vain for some missed clue that would lead her to her brother. Nothing. Her only clue, the warehouse, was destroyed thanks to Cole.