Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) (21 page)

Cole ran his hand along his jaw again. Something was wrong. “I think the real question is why did Grant send us here?”

The men exchanged glances.

“I’m going back to check on Emma.” Cole headed for the door. “You guys search for anything helpful, and open that damned door.” His last words echoed down the basement corridor. He was already halfway to the elevator.

He pushed the call button impatiently, contemplating the stairs. At this time of day, he should make the ascent to the penthouse more quickly via modern technology than on his own steam. Adrenaline had him practically running in place.

The door opened with a ding. He stepped inside and stabbed the button for the twentieth floor.

He ran his hand over his hair as the elevator began to climb. Joey and Kyle could take care of themselves. Emma had only Grant. The nagging feeling that something was wrong, that
he’d
been wrong, intensified.

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. A couple of boys, maybe ten years old, stepped onto the elevator, giggling. They looked at him, and their smiles faded, exchanging glances as the elevator continued its drive upward.

The boy with spiked hair reached out and pushed the fourteenth floor.

Cole shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid grabbing the kid by his collar. His fingers encountered an unexpected object.

He froze, feeling the color drain from his face.

“Oops.” The taller boy reached to push sixteen as well. The giggles returned. Cole swept his hand out and blocked the boy just before he punched the button. They stared at him with wide eyes. Laughter faded. The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor. When the door opened, Cole ushered the boys out and hit the close button.

“Hey! You can’t…”

“Listen, mister…”

The look on Cole’s face silenced them. They gawked as the door shut in their faces.

Cole withdrew his hand from his pocket. He slowly unfurled his fist.

Emma’s precious Mace rested securely in his palm.

Chapter Thirty-One

Cole jerked his phone from his pants pocket and dialed. The call went through, but lost its signal in the middle of the first ring. The elevator continued its ascent.

The sense of wrongness that started the moment he left Emma hardened into resolve. She had known something he hadn’t. He now feared that whatever secrets she shared with Grant were the least of his concerns.

Pulling his gun from his holster, he waited impatiently to reach the twentieth floor.

…

Inside the penthouse, Alistair checked a text message on his phone, typing a quick reply before nodding at Manuel. “Wait near the door.”

Brushing a piece of nonexistent lint from her sleeve, Emma frowned in disproval. “It’s rude to text when you’re in the middle of a conversation.” Better to show foolish bravado than fear. That was her new motto.

Alistair peered at her, one eyebrow raised. He held the phone up, and without taking his eyes from her, pushed a button. “Alright now, Emma, I’m through waiting. I want the information Jacob had, and I want it now.” He rose from the chair, grabbed her arm, and jerked her out of the chair. “You choose, my dear, whether Jacob lives or dies.” He lowered his head until she felt his breath against her face. “Decide now.”

He whispered the last two words, his insincere gentility falling away to reveal a malevolence that Emma had known lurked beneath his handsome face. Knowing hadn’t fully prepared her for experiencing it firsthand, however. She stiffened her spine, refusing to show fear.

A loud knock sounded at the door. Relief flooded through her.

Then Alistair smiled, and her blood ran cold.

“Ah, it’s about time. Emma, that’s your young man. If you ever want to see your brother again, you will do exactly as I say.” He shoved his fingers through the hair at her nape and jerked her head back. “Do you understand?”

Hatred warred with guilt. What had she done? All the secrecy. All the lies. And what had it gotten her?

She nodded her understanding.

“Grant, invite our guest inside.”

With a sideways glance at her, Grant walked over and reached for the lock. He looked back at Alistair as the old man retrieved his gun from the table and pulled Emma in front of him, pointing the weapon at her head. When he nodded, Grant unlocked the door and pulled it open. Cole burst in, grabbing Grant and spinning him so he faced into the room. Securing his prisoner in a headlock, he pointed his gun at Grant’s head. Grant offered no resistance.

He didn’t have to.

A snick from Manuel’s gun sounded the release of the safety as the thug stepped out of the shadows and brought the muzzle to rest inches from Cole’s ear.

Alistair chuckled. “It appears we have a bit of a Mexican standoff.” He tapped the gun against Emma’s cheek. “The problem, Cole, is that the man you hold is of no significant value to me. He betrayed me by running years ago.”

“Bastard,” Grant muttered.

Alistair smiled thinly. “Yes, well, your return to the fold was a bit tardy.”

Cole’s eyes sought and held Emma’s. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Alistair, Grant, and Manuel faded into the background. All that mattered was the concern in Cole’s eyes. She nodded.

Alistair pressed the gun against her cheek, holding it there so firmly she imagined a circle would remain when he pulled it away.

“She’ll be fine as soon as you hand Manuel your gun.”

Cole gritted his teeth and released Grant. Manuel plucked the gun from his hands and shoved it into his belt.

“Excellent.” Alistair turned his gun from Emma to Cole as Manuel patted him down. When he pulled the Mace from Cole’s pocket, he snickered and tossed the canister across the room. It landed in a decorative gold wastebasket with a loud ping.

Keeping the muzzle pressed against Cole’s spine, Manuel closed and locked the door. Then he prodded Cole forward.

Alistair lowered his weapon and patted Emma on the shoulder. “Well played, my dear.” He nodded to Grant. “You as well, boy. Perhaps you’re not such a disappointment after all.”

Grant’s face remained impassive.

Alistair slipped his gun into a shoulder holster and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back, his focus on the carpet. “It appears we have a problem. Emma has something I want. I have something Emma wants. A simple enough trade, but in fact, Emma has chosen to complicate things by requesting, no—demanding, really—that I not hurt you or the Westons.” He paused to look at Emma. “Well, I gave my word. And I believe I have a solution.”

He walked over to the far wall and removed an original watercolor of the ocean on a bright and cloudless day, revealing a wall safe. He spun the old fashioned combination lock. “The problem is I can’t just let Cole go. He knows too much. And he’s such a bulldog. He would be most annoying when all I want to do is live in peace with my beloved family.”

He reached inside the safe and pulled out a black pouch. Returning to Emma, he continued, “Now, this is a true wonder of biomedical research.”

He unzipped the pouch and held up a vial of clear liquid. The evening sun shone through the windows, sending slivers of light dancing across the container. Alistair observed the play of light, fascinated by the way the vial refracted the rays. “Ah yes, a true wonder of biomedical research.” He smiled at Emma. “With this drug, we can save dear Cole’s life. We’ll simply erase his memory.”

She stared in horror as he removed a syringe from the leather pouch as well. He tossed the pouch onto the sofa.

“To be more accurate,
you
will erase Cole’s memory. Then you will give me what I want, and I will tell you about Jacob. Do you see how beautifully this works out for everyone?” He filled the syringe with the vial’s contents, setting the empty glass on the sofa table. “You can prick him anywhere, really. Just stick this needle in his skin and depress the plunger and voila, all of our troubles disappear.” He handed her the needle.

When Emma stood, frozen, Alistair nodded toward Cole. “Come now, Emma, Cole doesn’t mind. The alternative is death, and I’m quite certain our young friend here prefers life.”

Emma stared at Cole in horror.

All she could see was Zach’s sadness when his daughter remembered a treasured moment he did not. He’d tried to put on a happy face, but she’d seen what the loss of his memories cost him. She couldn’t do that to Cole.

And he loved her. A miracle. She may have doubted his declaration, made under the influence of one of Alistair’s drug cocktails, but looking into his eyes now, she could see the truth. He loved her. When she injected him, he would never love her again—not like Zach had fallen in love with Lizzie for a second time. After all, it made no sense that Cole loved her this time. She’d done nothing but cause him trouble. And now…

She swallowed. She had to try to save Jacob.

With trembling hands, she took the syringe from Alistair who relinquished the drug and offered her his arm. They stepped toward Cole.

Cole. Even knowing what the drug would do, he didn’t flinch, didn’t show fear. If anything, she saw understanding in his eyes. Her tough guy. Her hero.

She had little choice. Tears filled her eyes. There were so many things she’d wanted to say, and now she couldn’t find the words.

“Come, come, my dear. We don’t have all day.” Alistair smiled in a mockery of kindness, sending shivers down her spine. “
Jacob
doesn’t have all day.” He patted her hand and led her forward another step.

And then another.

Resolve surged through Emma, steadying her hand. She stared at Cole and then glanced back at Alistair. He smiled encouragingly. She raised her arm and, swinging her hand across her body, she plunged the needle into the old man’s neck, depressing the plunger and sending the wonder of biomedical research coursing into his body.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“You fool!” Alistair clawed at the empty syringe, pulling it from his neck. It clattered to the polished wood floor.

Emma jerked away from Alistair as his eyes widened in disbelief. No further sound escaped him as his eyes drifted shut and he crumpled into a darkness of his own making.

Taking advantage of Manuel’s shock, Cole slammed into him, driving him to the floor. They grappled for the gun, slamming into the marble pillar before rolling in the opposite direction and crashing into the table. China figurines rained down and shattered about them. Cole barely felt the bite of shards as they pierced his hand.

Closing his fingers around a dagger of the fine porcelain, he drove the sharp edge into Manuel’s hand, forcing him to release the gun. It spun across the floor to land partway between them and Grant.

From the corner of his eye, Cole saw Grant snatch up the weapon and sprint to the door. The damned coward…

“Uh!” He grunted as the distraction earned him a hard punch to the gut. Before he could recover, Manuel’s meaty fist caught him across the jaw. He staggered, catching himself on the back of the sofa. When he spun to face Manuel, fists raised, stance balanced for attack, he realized he was too late. Manuel had whipped the gun from his shoulder holster. Although Cole leapt for him as the weapon swung in his direction, he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He prepared for the slam of a bullet into his flesh.

Instead, Emma appeared in his peripheral vision, hand raised toward Manuel, her precious Mace pointed at his face. Manuel screamed. “Bitch!” His free hand flew up too late. The foam from the canister left him clawing at his face and eyes.

Cole slammed into him, averting his face as they crashed to the floor. His hand locked on Manuel’s and wrenched the gun away, then he rolled sideways and to his feet.

A string of foul obscenities accompanied the tears streaming down Manuel’s face. Although Cole hated to put the man out of his misery, he slammed the gun into Manuel’s head and knocked him unconscious.

His eyes sought Emma as he pulled zip ties out of his pocket and bound Manuel’s hands and feet together. She was definitely a trouper.

…

Emma stared at Cole, wide-eyed. He offered a rueful smile. Despite the blood on his face and hands, the violence surrounding them, and the disaster of having injected Alistair with the memory blocking drug, her lips curved slightly in response. The Mace had proven effective in dealing with snakes after all.

A pounding at the door drew their attention. Grant looked through the peephole, then motioned to Cole. “It’s Alistair’s men. There were two men standing guard in the hall. They slipped into the stairwell when you arrived.”

Cole hesitated, staring hard at him. Emma poked him in the arm that wasn’t bleeding. “You can trust him.”

With a quick look at the unconscious men, Cole grabbed her hand and moved to a spot beside the door.

“Stay back against the wall.” Cole spoke softly. “Keep your Mace ready, just in case.”

She nodded, raising the spray as she pressed against the cool surface.

The men pounded again.

Grant opened his mouth and yelled in a near-perfect impression of the old man. “Stop that infernal pounding! Grant, you imbecile, open the door.”

Emma’s heart climbed into her throat at the imitation.

Grant grimaced, whispering, “I spent years mocking the old man. Ready?”

“Ready.” Cole nodded.

Grant threw the door open, and two men rushed in, guns drawn. They stopped short at the sight of the fallen men. Cole stepped forward and slammed the butt of his gun into the nearest man’s head, dropping him. The second spun toward him, but Grant hit him from behind. When he stumbled forward, Cole disarmed him and shoved the gun into his gut. The man froze.

With his free hand, Cole pulled more zip ties out of his pocket and handed them to Grant. Emma bit her lip as the two men worked to bind Alistair’s men, relieved to see them working together—until Cole glared at Grant as he straightened. Blood seeped from the cut on Grant’s cheek and from multiple places on Cole’s face and hands.

“You put Emma in danger.”

“No, Cole.” Emma rushed forward to lay a hand on his arm.

“She could have died.”

Emma felt his muscles tense.

Grant stood his ground. “She had a choice to make. It was her choice.”

“What do you mean she had a choice? Are you saying she knew Alistair was here?”

Before Grant could answer, Emma squeezed Cole’s arm. “I was pretty sure he was here.”

Cole looked down at her, his brow furrowed.

“I never told Grant about the information Alistair wanted. Only Alistair could have told him.”

To her surprise, Cole glared at her. “Why in hell did you stay?”

She lightened her hold on him. “I needed answers.” Her fingers moved restlessly across the jacket fabric. “And I needed for you to be safe.”

His response died as sounds of the elevator arriving drifted through the partially open door. They tensed and then relaxed at the sound of Kyle’s voice.

“Everything okay in there?”

“We’re good.” Cole moved to meet them.

Joey came first, dragging Cherise, with Kyle bringing up the rear. All three newcomers stared at the sight of Alistair and his men bound and mostly unconscious on the floor.

Joey nodded. “Nice work. Look who Becca caught outside. She was watching from across the street.”

Kyle looked Cole up and down. “You look like hell.”

“Get your hands off me!” Cherise jerked away from Joey with such force that she stumbled back a couple of steps on her three-inch heels before regaining her balance. She smoothed her long, golden hair, tucking it behind her ears to reveal dangling, diamond earrings.

“You…” Her voice trailed off at the sight of Grant. “Grant?”

Emma’s eyes jerked to Cherise, shocked by the wonder in her voice.

“Grant!” Cherise raced past Emma and Cole to throw her arms around his neck. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He rocked her back and forth in small motions.

Grant and Cherise?

Cherise pulled back and raised trembling fingers to touch Grant’s injured face. He shook his head slightly as he wiped a tear from her cheek. They laughed, and Emma fought the completely unexpected desire to like the woman.

Almost
.

Cherise drew back, wiping more tears from her face. Grant grasped her hand and they walked over to Alistair’s silent body.

“Is he dead?” Cherise queried softly.

“No. But his memories should be gone when he wakes up.”

“So, we’re free?”

“We’re free.” Grant dropped her hand to pull her close to his side.

“It’s over. It’s all finally over.” Disbelief lingered in her words.

Grant and Cherise turned to face the rest of the room, arms draped around each other’s waists.

Grant ignored the men, addressing only Emma. “Emma, this is my sister, Cherise.”

Emma barely registered this revelation as adrenaline subsided. It was Cherise’s words that echoed through her mind.
It’s all finally over.

She stared at Alistair’s unconscious form. What truths had she destroyed when she’d injected him with the serum in order to save Cole?

No, it wasn’t over yet. And now she feared it might never be.