Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Emma.” Stoic though he tried to be, he couldn’t keep his relief from showing.

“Hi, Cole. I’m sorry I missed your calls.” She sounded guilty. Cole ran his hand through his hair. Well, hell, she should sound guilty.

He knew he was assuming the worst. Too much time today spent in hell holes with people he couldn’t trust.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to stalk you. I was worried.” He sat and poured a third glass of scotch.
Worry
didn’t begin to describe his feelings. Frantic, that was more like it. “There’s a reason you have a bodyguard. I thought you understood…were okay with it.”

“I know. I am. I mean, I understand, and I’m okay with it, but something happened. Grant called. He had a contact who would share information, but not if you or Zach were involved.”

Silence crept across the connection until finally she sighed. “I had a choice to make, and whether or not you like it, I chose to gain information—regardless of the risk.” She spoke slowly, as if to make sure he understood. Hell, that just annoyed him further. He already understood. He just didn’t like it. “We went to a place called The Drink.”

The Drink
. While he’d been thankful she was spared the dives he visited, she’d been in a place at least as bad and likely worse. Without him. Without Joey.

With Grant, who had God knew what agenda in this tangle. A guy Cole didn’t trust to keep her safe.

“This guy, Yuri, thought he knew where code names were kept. He…he gave us an address and Grant and I went there tonight.” Her voice faded uncertainly.

Good. Maybe she was starting to realize how foolish she’d been. He remained silent.

“After we met Yuri, we broke in and searched the office at that address.” He heard her swallow. “We wore gloves.” A self-conscious laugh followed. “Well, that’s really beside the point. I’m just trying to say we were careful.”

“Oh, good.” He slightly regretted the third scotch as sarcasm rolled unchecked.

“We downloaded files from the computer, but had to stop before the transfer was complete. I found some numbers on a piece of paper. Grant has a copy of everything, and we gave another copy to Joey.”

She paused, and Cole clenched his glass, amazed it didn’t shatter in his hand. They’d had to stop the transfer? He opened his mouth to ask why, but stopped when the rest of her explanation tumbled out in a rush.

“Men showed up, and we hid behind the couch. When they moved down the hall and stopped and kept talking, I thought we’d be stuck in their forever. Grant opened the window and we snuck out.” When he didn’t respond, she finished quietly, “We may have found information that will help find both Jacob and Forrester.” Her voice trailed off.

Unfortunately, Cole didn’t have anything to say about her excursion that wouldn’t start an argument, and truthfully, he had no right to insist she keep Joey close. He was her lover, not her keeper…not her partner. From her perspective, maybe he wasn’t even her friend.

Maybe he was becoming a lot more invested in their relationship than she was. He absorbed the possibilities in silence.

“Cole?” Her voice, no longer conciliatory, rang with irritation. Unexpectedly, it lightened his mood.

“Yeah, I’m here. Look, I appreciate that you gained new information, but it doesn’t mean I have to like—or approve—of your methods.”

She exhaled. He could picture her biting her bottom lip. “I would like your support, but I don’t need your approval.”

He mulled over his options. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Fair enough.”

“However…” He hesitated when she snorted. “
However
, I want you to know you can trust me.” Hell, he’d spent the day searching frantically for her brother, determined to protect him as best he could even if he had to turn Jacob over to authorities.

“Unless protecting Jacob interferes with stopping Alistair. Or unless
you think
he’s working with Alistair.”

“I don’t think it will come to that.”

“I hope not.”

The line between them remained clearly drawn.

After he asked her to please keep Joey or William close until he returned, they said good night. Cole dropped his forehead to his hands. Realization overwhelmed him. He wasn’t just glad she was safe and angry that she’d put herself in danger. He was hungry for the sound of her voice, for her laughter. He missed her smile, the way her eyes flashed when she was serious about something, the silly Mace on a string she carried everywhere.

Cole pushed out of the chair, frustrated. He needed to get out of the room for a while. He’d walk, maybe take a cab, to Sacre Coeur in Montmartre, grab a pain au chocolat at one of the nearby bakeries. Pretend to enjoy watching the sun rise over the city.

As he grabbed his jacket, his phone rang again. His mood lightened. Emma had called him back. He glanced at his screen and frowned when he saw an unfamiliar number.

“Stevens.”

Laughter tinkled through the speaker. “Cole, hi, it’s me. Cherise.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Emma tossed and turned until she finally gave up on sleep, anxious to hear what they found in the data they’d copied. Joey’s initial report was that the encrypted information would take hours, and perhaps days, to decode.

In addition to worrying about Jacob, she missed Cole. They’d spent only a few days together, but those days…somehow he’d become a part of her in ways she didn’t fully understand. Her conversation with him hadn’t ended on a bad note, but things hadn’t been great between them, either. It was two o’clock in the morning in New York. Safe to assume he wouldn’t be calling her.

She fumbled for her phone and called him. Voicemail. She hesitated, then called his hotel. No answer there, either.

Phone in hand, she pulled on her robe and headed for the kitchen to make a soothing cup of chamomile tea. She offered William a smile as she passed through the family room. His curt nod did nothing to improve her mood. Good grief. She’d provided them with new information. She was safe. They needed to get over it.

Thirty minutes later, she called Cole again. No answer, again.

She turned off the kitchen light and sat at the table, looking out into the night. William stepped into the kitchen to check on her, or, more accurately, she suspected, to make sure she hadn’t bolted. He returned to the family room where he read yet another mystery by the glow of his book light. The house settled into darkness.

The moon shone through the branches of the large oak and grove of maples, casting complex shadows across the lawn. Emma imagined the trees were beautiful in early fall, ablaze in gold and red. She sipped her tea and allowed her imagination to take her to a place in the future. A place full of light and happiness, where no one was missing and everyone was safe. Where children swung on a wooden swing hung from the old oak’s strongest branch, pushed higher and higher by Uncle Jacob.

The smile this picture brought to Emma’s lips faded with a self-deprecating laugh. A pretty fine fairy tale for a girl who couldn’t get a man to take her call. Why wasn’t Cole answering his phone?

He wouldn’t avoid her call to get back at her. She thought she knew him well enough to be confident he wasn’t that kind of guy. Besides, things had been okay between them when they ended their last call.

Hadn’t they?

She dozed fitfully in the kitchen chair, jerking awake around four o’clock to stare into the night once again.

It was now after 10:00 a.m. in Paris. Cole should be headed out soon to follow whatever lead he’d pursued to Paris. She frowned, not appreciating his secretiveness any more than he’d appreciated hers last night. When she tried his phone again, he answered on the second ring.

“Stevens.” Cole’s cheerfully impersonal answer caused her frown to deepen.

“Cole?”

“Oh, it’s you. Emma. Is everything okay? It’s what, early morning over there in New York?”

She heard a muttered curse, something about his key.

“You go out on another adventure?” He hummed under his breath. “Track down some bad guys with your buddy, Grant? Run into any trouble?” Apparently unconcerned with her answer, he continued to hum.

“What? No. Everything’s fine here. But I’ve been worried. I tried to call you several times over the past couple of hours, but you didn’t answer.” She rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen door, she raised one hand to place her palm against the cool glass of the window.

“Oh man, I know, that sucks, doesn’t it? When you can’t reach the person you want to talk to?” She heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a dull thud and a soft curse. “Ouch. I had my phone on vib…just a minute,” his voice sounded far away and then close again. “Yep, I missed your calls. Sorry about that.”

Shocked, she remained silent.

“Well, anyway, didn’t mean to worry you.” He yawned, loud and lusty. “I wasn’t in my room this morning. I met a friend for an early morning drink, and we spent the morning, uh, catching up.”

“Cole, are you…drunk?”
At 10:00 in the morning?

“Hmm, yeah, maybe a little drunk. Cherise and I polished off one, or maybe it was two…uh, three? Bottles of wine while we talked.”

Cherise? She took a deep breath and counted to, well, four. Four was better than nothing, right? “You spent the night out drinking with Cherise?”

“Sure did. You know, she’s a funny woman. We had fun.” He hummed softly under his breath.

“You had fun?” Emma repeated in disbelief. Her hand slid from the glass pane to her side. The man on the other end of the phone sounded nothing like the Cole she knew.

“Yep.”

“Yep!?” Disbelief and concern gave way to frustration. “Are you…are you angry with me, Cole? Are you trying to pay me back for last night?”

“Hell, no!” In spite of his words, he sounded funny…wrong. “I’m just saying I had a nice time out last night with a friend. I’m not angry. No problema.”

She tapped her fingers against her chin. She’d been worrying about the search and their relationship most of the night and about Cole himself for a couple of hours. Impatience made her less than judicious in her response. “I think maybe there is a
problema
. You were out drinking for hours with a woman whose relationship with you is concerning on several levels, not the least of which is that you don’t even remember what happened that night that I came by your hotel and she was in your room. Now you’ve stayed up all night drinking—with her. You’re
drunk
.” She paused, not wanting to be unreasonable. They weren’t really a couple. And yet… “Yes, I have a problem with it.” Damn right, she did.

She heard the clink of glass in the background, and he spoke sharply. “Well, now, that’s a little hypocritical if you ask me.” He dragged out the word
hypocritical
as if he couldn’t quite remember how to pronounce it.

Stunned, she opened her mouth, then closed it without responding. Any fleeting thoughts about the last time he’d had too much to drink with Cherise fled. Something was wrong. She forced her voice to remain calm. “Cole, what is going on? What’s the matter with you?”

He grunted. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Well, I think we should talk about it.” She cursed the distance between them. How were they supposed to get to the bottom of this when he was thousands of miles away?

“Stop pushing. Emma…” His harsh voice faded, and when he spoke again, it was with careful control. “Look, I need to get to work and maybe we both need a break from this conversation. I’ll call you later.”

And he hung up, never hearing her voice break softly. “Cole.”

She went back to the room they’d shared for only two nights, a room that felt like
their
room, and lay in bed, unable to sleep.

She couldn’t believe Cole had stayed out all night with Cherise. Couldn’t believe the things he’d said to her. Couldn’t believe he hadn’t called her back.

She also couldn’t shake the sense that something was terribly wrong.

When sleep eluded her, she attempted to soak the stress from her weary body with a bubble bath. Before the water started to cool, she rose from the tub and dried off. Ignoring her pajamas, she slipped into Cole’s robe, taking comfort from the scent lingering in the soft cotton. She climbed into bed, wrapped securely in his robe, and rested her head on his pillow. Oh boy, she had it bad.

She awoke to sunlight streaming through the window. Closing her eyes in protest against the light, she fumbled for her phone. It wasn’t on the nightstand. Rising on her elbow, she braved the brightness and searched with tired eyes.

Her brain finally kicked into gear. Hurrying into the bathroom, she found it sitting next to the sink. She’d missed a call from Cole. Her heart pounded as she headed back into the bedroom and sought the comfort of the big bed to listen to voicemail.

“Emma, it’s me.” His voice sounded subdued, ragged. “I don’t blame you for not answering. I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what…” Silence dragged on so long she thought the connection had been severed, but then his husky voice continued. “Something’s wrong.”

She pushed her pillow against the headboard, her phone clutched in her hand. He sounded terrible. She thought about calling back, but what would she say? He had been a jerk.

Something’s wrong.

Hadn’t her every instinct been telling her the same thing? He was a respectful person. He didn’t taunt people or toss harmful words about. The Cole she knew would never treat her the way he had on the phone.

Unless something was wrong.

She listened to the voice message again and weighed her options. No longer tired, Emma leapt from the bed.

It was time to act.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cole sat in his room drinking. He’d felt pretty righteous for about an hour after his last phone conversation with Emma. Then, tired and not exactly drunk, but not quite sober, either, he’d crashed in the leather chair. He’d startled awake at the sound of his empty glass hitting the floor and discovered his righteous indignation had dissipated, leaving him with the certainty he’d made a mistake.

He’d called Emma despite the late, or early, hour in New York. No answer. And he couldn’t blame her.

After a restless day waiting for a call that never came, he faced the truth.

He’d been an ass, and he knew it.

It’s just that he’d been so frustrated—so angry. He’d done nothing with Cherise but drink, hoping to gain information. So he’d enjoyed her company to a surprising degree, although he’d been surprised to catch a whiff of that annoying perfume he remembered from the night in New York—he’d have thought a woman of her sophistication would make a more subtle choice. However, clearly he didn’t understand women. Because, what right did Emma have to question him when he trusted her to gallivant about in dangerous places with her former lover? Who the hell did she think she was to question his loyalty?

Shocked at his destructive thoughts, he slammed the half empty bottle down on the coffee table.

He dropped his head in his hands. One minute contrite, the next angry. He’d told the truth in his voice message hours ago.

Something was wrong.

Throughout the day, doubts had bombarded him as he dozed off and on, eating away at his trust in Emma. He barely knew her, and, yet there were times when it scared him how close they were. He’d been certain she wasn’t part of Alistair’s conspiracy.

Yet, today he harbored ugly, negative thoughts about her. Emma and Grant. Emma and Alistair. Deep in his heart, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he’d been a fool.

He went out in the late afternoon, returning less than two hours later, his thoughts confused, his emotions a seesaw. A man couldn’t conduct a discrete investigation when he lacked control. What good was he when he couldn’t trust his own judgment?

He slept fitfully in the chair, certain he was right, certain he was wrong. Incapable of action. When the phone rang, he fumbled to answer it. Cherise, not Emma. He refused her offer of food and companionship.

After creeping by with infinite slowness, the day finally gave way to night. He’d accomplished exactly nothing. He climbed into the king size bed and watched the moon through his window. One o’clock, two o’clock, until he succumbed to the pull of exhaustion and slept.

The sun sent tendrils of early morning light through his window. He rolled out of bed, still clothed, and returned to his chair in the front room to call Emma. No answer. He ran his hand through his hair. She still wasn’t taking his calls. He rested his elbows on his knees, hung his head in his hands, and sat unmoving.

A knock sounded at the door. He raised his head.

The knock sounded more loudly. He jerked from the chair to stalk across the room and throw open the door. Certain he’d lost his mind, he stared in disbelief.

Emma.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him. He knew he looked like hell. His navy dress shirt, crisply pressed when he’d put it on more than twenty-four hours ago, now hung untucked and wrinkled. Even worse, he reeked of scotch.

She, however, looked fresh and well kempt, despite the long flight. He ran shaky hands down his shirt in a futile attempt to smooth the creases.

Swallowing hard, he reached out a shaky hand to touch her face, to assure himself she was real. His hand hovered and then dropped without making contact.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He stepped back and spoke hoarsely, “Come in. Please.”

She entered and turned to stare at him. He broke eye contact to carefully shut and lock the door, pausing for a long moment before facing her.

“I’m sorry.” They spoke at the same time. Pulling her into his arms, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and stroked her hair, repeating over and over that he was sorry.

Deep inside, a voice he couldn’t squelch demanded,
“What the hell do you have to be sorry about?”

“Cole…Cole, you’re squishing me.” Realizing that she was pushing gently against him, he let go and stepped back, severing contact.

“What are you doing here?” He ran a hand through his hair—that didn’t sound right. “I mean I’m glad you’re here. I just…” Words failed him as she watched closely. He tried again to smooth his shirt. “You must be exhausted.” He reached down to take her travel bag and attempted a smile. “I see you’re putting your favorite luggage to good use.” Hefting the bag in the air, he frowned. “Traveling light.”

“I didn’t have much time to pack. I guess I’ll have to shop.” The humor fell flat, empty words used to fill the yawning silence between them. He took the bag into the bedroom and placed it on the bed. When he returned, she still hadn’t moved.

“Cole?” He heard the tears in her question. “What’s going on?”

He took a shuddering breath. “Nothing. I just…I had too much to drink last night, and I was stupid. I’m sorry.” He moved toward the kitchenette. “Do you want something to eat? I can…”

“Cole! Look at you. You’re a mess. What happened last night between you and Cherise?”

“Nothing happened between Cherise and me.”

“Cole…”

“Nothing happened.” He grimaced, his words sounded overly harsh, even to him. He slammed his fist on the counter. “What? Don’t you trust me? You expect me to trust your word and yet…”

“Stop it. Just stop it. There’s something wrong here and…”

“You bet there’s something wrong. You should trust me.” Appalled at his harsh tone, he snapped his mouth shut, only to have it pop back open of its own accord. “That’s what’s wrong.” He ran his fingers roughly through his hair, scarcely believing his words.

When Emma opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand, beseeching, “Please. I can’t do this now.” His restless hand scrubbed his jaw in frustration. “I need a shower. Why don’t you freshen up first, then I’ll shower, and we’ll talk.”

Emma ran her fingers nervously along the side of her neck. “Alright, I would like to slip into something more comfortable, and you certainly do need a shower.” She wrinkled her nose.

He watched warily as she approached. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she looked deeply into his eyes, and he worried that she saw too deeply into him, that she heard the ugly voice inside him that insisted she was unworthy. She kissed him softly on the lips and then disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him alone with his demons.

…

Emma woke to find Cole sitting next to the bed, watching her sleep. She’d drifted off while waiting for him. “Hey.”

He’d showered and changed into a T-shirt and running pants. His hair stood on end as though he’d run his hands through it and never smoothed it back into place.

He attempted a smile, but failed. “Hey, yourself. You should get some more sleep.”

She rose on her elbow and patted the space next to her. “I’m tired of sleeping alone. It’s strange. I’ve spent most of the last few years sleeping alone, and after a few days with you…” She shook her head. “Now I hate sleeping alone. And I can’t quite believe it.” She patted the space again.

When he shook his head, she dropped to her pillow and frowned.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” A harsh bark of laughter escaped his lips. “It’s that I want to so badly, I’m not sure I can just lie next to you while you sleep.”

She recognized this statement for what it was—both a declaration of how much he wanted her and an admission that his control had slipped badly. She knew it pained him to admit it. “Well, strangely enough, I’m not all that tired, either.” She smiled and pulled back the covers on his side, inviting him in.

“Emma, I’m a mess.”

He
was
a mess. Torment filled his eyes. Yearning followed by accusation followed by yearning. When had she learned to read him so well? She forced herself to look past the cruel words he’d spat at her earlier, to see how they hurt him—as much, and perhaps more, than they’d hurt her.

“I know you are, and we’re going to figure this out. Together.” The last word slipped out on a whisper as she reached to take his hand and draw him to the bed. With a low moan, he lay next to her and pulled her into his arms, placing a soft kiss on her hair. He raised one hand to caress her face, running his fingers along the line of her jaw, down her neck, and back up to tangle in her still damp hair.

He swallowed hard. She felt the moment he gave up the fight to cherish her and gave in to his need to possess her.

His mouth came down hard and hungry. Powerful hands massaged her scalp and toyed with her hair before running hungrily along the curves of her body. She felt his desperation as he pushed her gown up over her thighs and pulled her into a sitting position to lift the silk from her, leaving her naked to his burning gaze.

“Emma?” His question and the last shreds of restraint hung in the air between them until she offered a smile of welcome and pulled him to her. Whatever was wrong could wait a little while longer.