Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) (20 page)

A well-muscled doorman in a black suit and bowtie pulled the heavy door open. Emma suspected he doubled quite effectively as a bouncer when needed.

“Good afternoon. It’s good to see you again, sir.” The doorman nodded to Kyle. “I believe your friend is waiting at the penthouse.”

Cole entered first, followed by Emma, then Kyle. Glancing around as they entered a marble lobby no less impressive than the elegant exterior, she wondered how she’d managed to put herself at odds with Cole and Kyle over poor Grant. Although, as she perused the leather tooled ceiling, it occurred to her that
poor
clearly wasn’t the right word to describe her ex. He might have been on the run from Alistair, but he certainly hadn’t suffered financially in the process.

Regardless, Grant wasn’t the issue. If somehow he was involved with Cherise and Alistair…if she was wrong, and he was actually a bad guy, then Cole would handle it. Her focus would remain on finding Jacob.

While she stared at their surroundings, the men spoke in hushed tones about the layout of the building. High ceilings and intricate molding topped glorious, old brick and stone walls that complemented the exterior. She listened closely even as she catalogued expensive paintings and sculptures. No wonder they needed a doorman capable of dissuading would-be thieves.

She nodded at another bow-tied strongman who sat behind a computer screen at the desk in the corner of the lobby. Modern technology blended seamlessly with old world grace.

Kyle punched a button on his phone.

“Calling Joey?” Cole asked.

Kyle nodded, frowning. “Voicemail. But he’s expecting our call.”

Cole’s brow knitted. The tell-tale tic appeared in his jaw. “Emma, maybe you should wait…”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

Kyle started to protest.

“Hey, I already saved Cole’s life once. I can take care of myself.” She pulled out her Mace.

Kyle’s eyes widened when he saw the leash attached to the hot pink canister.

Reluctant amusement lit Cole’s face. “Don’t accidentally spray me with that stuff.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make me use it.” It felt good to banter with him after the disagreement in the car.

Cole smiled. “See, Kyle. She can take care of herself.” He placed his hand at her back. “Let’s go.”

They headed for the bank of elevators. Emma prayed they were heading toward answers they could both accept.

…

The elevator ride to the twentieth floor passed in silence. Cole felt tension coiling inside him, the momentary humor they’d shared in the lobby dissipating into a deep sense of foreboding. This was where he’d been shot before. Where Lizzie almost lost her life. Where Alistair attempted to steal newly formed memories and turn Zach’s mind into a blank slate yet again.

Cole hadn’t been back since that day. He’d been recuperating in the hospital while the police and Weston Security searched both the penthouse and the luxurious basement apartment that had been discovered during Alistair’s showdown with Zach and Lizzie the year before.

Apparently sensing his growing agitation, Emma gave him a wide-eyed look. Forcing aside his growing unease, he rolled his neck and shoulders and concentrated on slow, deep breaths. His mind cleared. He grasped her hand.

“Stay behind us.”

The doors opened into an ornate hallway, featuring cherubs and vines encased in more exquisitely carved moldings. Expensive fabric covered the walls. The private hallway stood empty.

Kyle knocked on the door. Footsteps sounded inside. Emma slipped her hand into her pocket, and despite the tension in the hall, Cole forced back a grin. Mace on a string was ready to roll.

The door was flung open, and Joey ushered them inside, frustration written across his face. As they crossed the threshold, he swept his arm wide to indicate the room beyond. Cherise was nowhere in sight.

Grant, however, stood near the French doors that opened onto the balcony. Looking at him, every instinct Cole possessed screamed that their supposedly clever plan to follow Cherise had been a setup from the start.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Joey shut the door behind them as they entered a room filled with expensive furniture and delicate pieces of oriental art. Sculptures of jade and ivory adorned the fireplace mantel while china figures rested atop the intricately carved table that butted up to the high back of the brocade sofa.

They stared at Grant. He stood alone on the far side of the room, his face pale, lines of strain evident. His blond hair was mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it many times. His rumpled, silver blue shirt was tucked haphazardly into crisply pressed, dark gray trousers. He wore black canvas loafers.

Loafers? The Grant Cole knew wouldn’t be caught dead in dress pants and canvas loafers.

“Where’s Cherise?” he asked, voice hard.

Emma’s startled gaze sliced to Cole, then swiveled back to Grant. His burning eyes locked with hers.

“Well?” Cole demanded.

Grant shrugged, eyes on Emma. She glanced at Cole as if she felt the piercing stare that analyzed every detail of the silent interaction between her and Grant.

Joey stepped into the breach. “She’s not here. I’ve been through the entire place. There’s no evidence she’s been here.” He pounded his fist into his palm. “Damn it! I gave her a little space so she wouldn’t recognize me from the plane. She got on the elevator. It came up to the twentieth floor, no stops, and then she just disappeared.”

Everyone looked at Grant.

He tore his gaze from Emma and slowly held up his hands, palms out. “I haven’t seen her. I’ve been here for about an hour. Joey’s the first person I’ve seen.”

Cole stalked to the window to glance at the street far below before turning back to Grant. “You admit knowing Cherise?

A light flush seeped into Grant’s pale face, providing all the answer Cole needed.

“She must have taken the steps back down.” Cole tapped his fingers against the sill.

He heard Emma approach, but ignored her as he took a threatening step toward Grant. “What are you doing here?”

Emma gasped. He took that as a sign she didn’t care for his icy tone. Well, too damn bad. It was well past time for answers. The pieces were coming together, and the picture painted neither Grant nor Cherise in a positive light.

Grant’s eyes darted from Cole to Emma and lingered.
What the hell?
Cole stepped back, turning slightly so he could observe them both. Kyle took a step toward Grant. Joey maintained his post near the door.

“I received a message from the old man.” Grant continued to stare at Emma.

“From Alistair? And you didn’t tell anyone?” Cole ran his hand along his jaw. Of course, the other man had told no one. Hadn’t he warned Emma that Grant couldn’t be trusted?
Neither can Emma
, the voice in his head whispered. He shook off the unwelcome thought. “What did he want?”

“He wanted me to come here. Beyond that”—he focused on Cole—“ask Emma what she has that Alistair wants.”

Cole glanced at Emma to see her frozen in place. Grant’s words mixed with remnants of the doubt Cherise—and the drugs—had planted in Paris, and he struggled to separate truth from lies.

“What makes you think she has anything that crazy old man wants?” Hadn’t Cole suspected she was holding back, that there was a reason she’d been followed to the island?

Grant smiled coldly. “She told me.”

Color drained from Emma’s face.

Cole took a step toward her and stopped, searching her features for the truth. The guilt written on her face confirmed his fear that he’d been played. Yet, he had to ask. “Emma?”

She stood silent, her hands shoved deep in her jacket pockets, shoulders hunched. Cole’s stomach plummeted. He’d suspected she had secrets. He’d known she had a history with Grant. Why was he blindsided that she would trust those secrets to Grant, but not him?

Grant eyes glittered. “It’s true. She’s put us all in danger with her lies.”

Emma flinched, but her eyes remained steady on Cole. She lifted her chin. “That’s not exactly…Jacob sent me something. It’s in a safe place. I…I wanted to tell you…”

All this time, she’d been lying to him but confiding in Grant. Cole’s icy calm melted under the rising flame of anger.

He lunged for Grant, grabbing him by the shirt front and slamming him back against the wall. “Where is the bastard?” He tightened his hold on Grant’s shirt, twisting it tight against the other man’s throat.

Grant offered no resistance. His gaze locked on Emma.

“Stop it!” she cried.

Cole’s anger hardened into cold, determined rage. Hand at Grant’s throat, he asked her tightly, “What do you have that Alistair wants?”

Silence.

“What do you have that the old man wants?” Cole bit out each word, his head turned toward Emma while he maintained his stranglehold on Grant.

“I have information. On a chip.” Her unnaturally quiet voice faded to nothing under Cole’s glare.

Kyle cursed under his breath.

“Where is it?” Cole slammed Grant against the wall and released him, turning to fully face her.

“I…” She paused, staring past Cole at Grant. “I can’t tell you.” She looked into Cole’s eyes, tormented, yet resolute as she lifted her chin. “It’s not here.” She shrugged. “That’s all I can say.”

He’d brought a traitor into the team. Again.

A cold, brittle shell formed around his heart as he turned his back on her anguish. He needed to contain the damage from his lamentable lapse in judgment. They were wasting time looking for Cherise. Alistair was the true target.

“Where is he?” He took a threatening step back toward Grant. “You say you want to help, that you’re on our side. Where is he?”

Grant held up his hand, his face pale, his breathing still ragged. “I’ll tell you. Just…don’t tell him I told you. He’s in the basement apartment.”

Cole turned to Joey and Kyle. “Let’s go.”

The men rushed to the door.

“Cole, wait!” Emma’s cry went unheeded.

Joey opened the door. He and Kyle hustled out and summoned the elevator, but before Cole could join them, Emma grabbed his arm, stopping him in the doorway.

“Cole, you don’t understand.” He felt the bite of her nails through his coat sleeve as she clung to his arm.

He grabbed her hand and forced it away along with his emotions. “No, Emma, I understand just fine. You’ve always been clear that Jacob comes first with you.”

The ding of the elevator signaled its arrival.

He hesitated. “Maybe one of us should stay here with you and Grant. To be safe…”

“No.” She shook her head and stepped back, the torment in her eyes suddenly shuttered. “It’s safer if you go together. Grant and I will be fine here.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other man.

Controlling a surge of anger, he said tersely, “Lock the door behind me.” He searched her now impassive face. “When I return, we’ll discuss the chip.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Still he lingered, torn between the desire to get away from her and the need to stay.

“Cole!” Kyle called from the elevator.

“Lock the door behind me,” he repeated harshly.

As he started to turn away, Emma lunged forward, grasping handfuls of his jacket and pressing a surprisingly frantic kiss against his lips. “I love you,” she whispered fiercely and then pushed him away, retreating into the penthouse, and slamming the door shut.

For a long moment after he heard the deadbolt slide into place, he stared at the door. She was confusing him again. And right now, he needed to remain focused.

Fist clenched, he ran to join Joey and Kyle in the elevator.

It was past time to deal with a monster.

…

Inside the condo, Emma leaned her forehead against the door, her hands splayed across the heavy wood, seeking any lingering connection to Cole. She took a shuddering breath, straightened, and pushed herself upright. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d suffered—the lies and half-truths, the fear—it was all about to end. Because despite what Cole believed, she hadn’t told Grant about the microchip. That meant either Jacob or the person from whom he’d originally stolen the chip had told him.

The way things were playing out, it was a safe bet it wasn’t Jacob.

Slowly, she turned to face the room. A distinguished older man she knew only from photographs stood next to Grant.

“Hello Emma.” The man stepped forward into the center of the room. “How nice it is to finally meet you. I grew rather tired of waiting behind the false wall panel we had installed.” He chuckled. “That man, Joey, never even suspected. And Cole? Well, it’s most convenient that the effects of the drug haven’t completely worn off. I do believe his anger was a bit out of proportion with the situation, don’t you agree?”

She stepped away from the door, refusing to be cowed. “Hello, Alistair,” she said casually, refusing to show him a deference he didn’t deserve.

Dressed in a pair of tailored, charcoal pants and a forest green, cashmere sweater, and commanding the space in which he stood, Alistair might have been welcoming her into his home if not for the gun he held pointed at her heart.

Chapter Thirty

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the door, my dear.”

Emma took another step into the room. She prayed it wouldn’t take Cole long to question her strange behavior and realize she’d been sending him a message—prayed that, despite everything, he’d sense something was off.

A younger man with a military cut and massive biceps stepped from the shadowed hallway that ran from the right side of the room. A tattooed black and red snake slithered out from underneath his short sleeves, coiling around his arm until its head came to rest on the top of his wrist. A pistol lay snugly in a shoulder harness, a submachine gun rested in his hands, ready at a second’s notice.

He looked familiar. Her eyes widened. The man from the beach.

Grant stood to the side, his face set in a grim line. He brushed his hands along his shirt in a fruitless attempt to smooth the wrinkles Cole had impressed on his already mussed fabric. All appearance of fear and timidity had vanished from his face.

Alistair smiled. “Well played, boy. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Grant ignored him as he finished tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

Alistair chuckled. “I could almost forgive you for the meeting with Yuri.” He spun suddenly and backhanded Grant across the cheek with his gun hand.

Grant’s head snapped backwards. Blood poured from a gash in his cheek. He said nothing, reaching almost casually into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief and pressing it to his cut.

Alistair turned back to Emma, charming smile back in place. “Dear Emma, how difficult you’ve been to track down. There was really no need for all of this drama.”

She bit the inside of her lip and raised her chin. Her hand slipped instinctively into her pocket, fingers toying with the retractable string.

“Of course,” he continued, “I could have separated you from your guard dogs at any time. I simply preferred to operate under the radar.” He sighed. “Alas, look what you’ve driven me to do.” He held out his hand. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

She ignored the pounding of her heart and squared her shoulders. “Where’s my brother?”

“Your brother? I don’t believe the young man and I have met.” Alistair raised his free hand to stroke his goatee. “What is his name?”

Anger, strong and cleansing, banished Emma’s fear so that when she spoke, her voice remained steady and strong. “His name is Jacob, as you well know.” She intentionally adopted the lofty cadence of his speech, determined to give the impression they were equals.

He took a step toward her. “I
said
you have something that belongs to me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Before I give you anything, I have conditions.”

“Really? You have conditions.” Alistair laughed, drawing out the last word and emphasizing the “s” as though multiple conditions were quite an amusing concept. He waved her toward the sofa.

She stared into his green eyes, so identical to Zach’s in color, yet they lacked any of the warmth, compassion, and humanity that defined Zach.

“I rather like your spirit, dear Emma. Have a seat, and tell me what you want.”

Her eyes darted from him to Grant to the man from the island as she approached. She bumped into the sofa table, bruising her hip on the heavy mahogany piece that stood sentinel to the sitting area. The oriental vase and figurines wobbled precariously. Emma reached out to settle the expensive art before she circled to the front of the sofa.

Before she could sit, Alistair laid a hand on her arm. “Where are my manners? Please, let me take your coat.”

Emma recognized a command when she heard it. Reluctantly, she shrugged out of her coat, avoiding physical contact with Alistair as much as possible.

He tossed the coat to Grant. “Hang this up.”

She sat gingerly at the edge of the cushion. She’d have preferred to stand. And she’d have preferred to keep her coat.

Alistair lounged in the richly upholstered wing chair, setting his gun on the side table. He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers. An air of great anticipation emanated from him. Clearly, he was not worried about the men who’d been sent on a wild goose chase.

Fear’s icy fingers danced along her spine.

The thug shifted position, keeping her in his direct line of sight. He remained stoic, weapon at his side, an extension of his snake-emblazoned arm.

Alistair noted her sideways glance at the man. “I see you remember Manuel. I believe you bashed his head with a rather nasty branch back on the island.” He grinned. “He’s been most anxious to meet you again.”

Emma tore her gaze from Manuel’s sneer and watched Grant hang her jacket on an ornate coatrack near the door then blot at the blood still oozing from his cut. It galled her to think that no matter what Sam’s biological father had said he wanted, here he was, doing Alistair’s bidding once again. How had he ever hoped to keep his daughter safe?

“Emma, normally I’m not a man who cares for other people’s
conditions
. However, today, I’m willing to make an exception. A thank you of sorts for taking such fine care of the information your brother stole. I appreciate you keeping it out of Weston’s clutches. You’ve made it much easier to defeat Zach and destroy him and his men.”

She lifted her chin in defiance, even as his words pierced her heart. Was that what she’d done? Protected Alistair? Put Zach and his family, Cole, Joey, and the others, in greater danger? Although she was committed to finding Jacob, she’d never meant to put the others in greater danger.

To put
Jacob
in greater danger.

Heart racing, she recalled that Grant had said he’d only been protecting Sam. And she’d understood, hell, she’d sided with him. Because she hadn’t realized—no matter how often Cole had tried to tell her—that by withholding information, she might be increasing everyone else’s danger.

Grant shifted into her line of sight, his gaze boring into her. He offered a nearly imperceptible shake of his head before returning his attention to Alistair. What did it mean? His glance darted her way again. This time she thought she understood. Alistair was manipulating her—the way he’d manipulated them all.

Jacob had been specific.
Trust no one.
But as time passed, she’d come to understand that she
had
to trust someone. And finally, she’d chosen Cole. He just needed to realize it.

A sense of having done the right thing, however belatedly, settled inside her.

“Very well, let’s hear your requests.” Alistair raised one eyebrow and waited.

The pompous ass. Fine, let him think he held the cards. She may have made some bad decisions along this path, but she wasn’t completely stupid.

“I don’t want you to hurt Cole. Or Joey or Kyle or any of the Westons.” She crossed her legs and tapped her fingers against her knee, careful to maintain eye contact. “Or Grant.”

She sensed Grant’s surprise but continued to stare at Alistair.

Alistair pursed his lips. “Why, Emma, that’s quite a list. I believe you are absolutely ruining any prospect of fun for me.”

“And, of course, I want to know where my brother is.” Despite her best efforts to remain calm, she felt her muscles tense.

He stroked his goatee. “What if I don’t promise? It seems to me you are asking for more than is fair.”

“Then I won’t hand over the microchip.” Her hand stilled on her knee.

Alistair smiled. “Why, then I’ll just take it.” He nodded toward the armed guard who took a threatening step forward.

“I don’t have it with me,” she said quickly, “I told Cole the truth.”
Sort of the truth.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’ve hidden it someplace safe.” This was mostly true.

When he raised a skeptical brow, she continued, “Did you think I wouldn’t plan for this possibility?” Unfortunately, this comment was less true. She’d flown by the seat of her pants, and the experience had reinforced her preference for order and planning.

“And you think I can’t make you tell?”

“I know you can’t,” she lied. She knew enough about the many ways truth could be wrenched from someone to pray furiously it wouldn’t come to that.

Manuel took another step forward. With a great laugh, Alistair held up a hand to stop him. “Emma, you remind me of another young lady I rather admire. Lizzie. I believe you’ve met her?”

She nodded, hoping to stall as long as possible. “I admire her as well.”

“So, let’s see, I can’t hurt Cole or the Westons or Kyle or, what was that man’s name?”

“Joey.”

“Ah, yes, no hurting dear Joey.” Alistair inclined his head. “And Grant. Oh, and you want to know where your brother is.”

“Yes.” She suppressed the urge to chew the inside of her lip.

He reached across the coffee table and patted her knee. “Very well, my dear, I promise not to hurt any of your new friends, and I’ll even promise not to hurt your old friend.” He nodded toward Grant. “Although, I don’t see why you’d wish to protect him. And once you show me the microchip, I will tell you about your brother.”

He was lying. Certainty welled in Emma, but really, had she expected anything else? Why else would she have slipped the microchip to Cole as he headed out the door?

…

Cole rolled his neck from side to side.
Emma loved him?
What the hell was she up to, springing the information on him like that? And how in hell was he supposed to believe her now?

The damned words settled in his heart, even though he knew she couldn’t be trusted. Hadn’t she just proved it? Sharing critical information with Grant and hiding it from him.

Now, she said she loved him. Hell, she probably didn’t mean it. And yet…for just one second, the words had felt so real.

She lied to you before; she’s lying now
, the voice in his head argued.

He tapped impatient fingers against his leg as the elevator crawled toward the basement. Something wasn’t right, and it wasn’t just his love life. Logically, he knew it was right to leave Emma behind with Grant and search the basement with Joey and Kyle—Joey had searched the penthouse; the lock on the penthouse door was secure; Grant wasn’t going anywhere without his daughter; Emma clearly felt safe, practically pushing him out the door. And yet, Cole’s every instinct screamed he was making a mistake.

Joey cast a concerned glance his way. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Hell of a thing, Emma withholding information like that. If she has something Alistair wants, she must have felt she couldn’t tell you. But telling Grant…she must be desperate.” Joey stared at Cole’s restless fingers.

He thanked Joey for his insight with a glare as anger pushed aside his confusion over her parting words. “We can’t trust her right now.” Maybe when this was all over.

Maybe never
. Was this the facts or the lingering effects of the drugs?

Clenching his fist, he admitted he couldn’t be sure.

“Look, Cole, if you think we’re making a mistake, one of us can head back upstairs to stay with her,” Kyle suggested.

The elevator came to rest at the basement.

Cole hesitated and then shook his head. “No, once we search the basement, one of us can go back for Emma.”
He’d
go back for her, and then, by God, she’d tell him the complete truth.

Their footsteps echoed ominously on the concrete floor. The basement consisted of a long hall, door after door of which opened to reveal nothing but storage and the heating system.

The last door, however, refused to budge. Joey removed a pick from his wallet and went to work. Cole fought the urge to tell him to hurry, because he knew from experience that helped no one. Joey knew his business.

At last the lock clicked, but the door remained frozen in place.

“Well, that would have been too easy.” Joey said, before removing a small, explosive device from an interior pocket of his jacket. He ran a penlight along the seam between the door and the jam to find the dead bolt. Then, inserting the slim explosive into the narrow crevice, he ignited the fuse. Everyone turned away. A small explosion knocked the deadbolt loose, and the men busted through.

Kyle went first, scanning the entire room before he swung to cover the right. Joey followed, turning left, and Cole came in low through the middle. The basement hideaway resembled an uptown loft. To the left, an expensive, oriental rug covered the beautiful wood floor and grounded a leather sofa and two captain’s chairs. To the right, a state of the art kitchen gleamed in the dim light. A doorway at the back led to another room. Cole moved forward, gun ready, and rushed through the doorway. Joey followed to cover him, while Kyle stayed to guard the entrance.

Inside the room, a king-size bed rose on ornately carved posts. A forest green comforter covered the bed, and moss green, silk pillows rested against the black leather bed rest. A luxurious bathroom opened to the left, featuring an oversized marble tub and pedestal sinks. Bags from Bergdorf Goodman were strewn haphazardly across the bed.

Cole dropped his gun to his side and smacked his hand flat against the wall. “Empty. Everything in this damned suite is empty.”

He stalked out of the bedroom and back to the pristine main room. Joey followed.

“Anything?” Kyle asked from the door.

“Just the shopping bags. Cherise has been here and gone. The question is whether or not she’s still in the building.” Cole ran his hand along his jaw. “And if Alistair is with her.”

“Interesting, though, that this very expensive suite is still perfectly maintained after more than a year.” Kyle referred to their last stand off with Alistair as he flipped a switch, bathing the room in light.

“Hey,” Joey called from the far side of the sitting area. “Look at this.”

A hidden panel sat against the outer wall. Joey holstered his gun and began looking for the trigger that opened the exit, an exit that hadn’t been there a year ago.

“I think Alistair has been staying here since the escape, keeping tabs on Zach.” Kyle gritted his teeth in frustration. “Look at the place. It’s obviously well cared for, not a trace of dust. And yet completely empty except for Cherise’s recent purchases. No indication that anyone lives here.” Kyle glanced at the security cameras Zach had installed. “The bastard must have bypassed the security system we installed.”