Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) (9 page)

Chapter Twelve

Cole’s pulse raced at the slamming of the front door. Moments later, he left, sprinting through the courtyard in search of Emma, his duffel bag hanging loosely from his hand.

Where had that irritating woman gone?

He’d seen the look on her face when she saw Forrester’s picture. Although she recognized him, he’d bet his life she’d had no idea who he really was.

But Jacob? Her beloved Jacob was another matter. He hesitated a moment and turned left, back toward Carrefour de Buci. She’d head for some place familiar.

His heart pounded as he picked up speed. The damned woman could be in danger. Didn’t she know that?

Probably not.

Because he’d failed to trust her with the complete truth about Forrester’s operation. Even so, she should have realized they might be followed by his men. If he’d mentioned the possibility that he’d been drugged by Cherise that night, perhaps she wouldn’t have thought he was falling for the other woman’s act. But he hadn’t mentioned it. After all, without proof, it was just a lame excuse for his disreputable behavior.

Damn it!

He stopped on the outskirts of the market and paused. Running his hand along his jaw, he perused the area. Which way…

“It’s about time you showed up.”

Cole whirled to face her. Relief and anger raced through him. “What the hell did you think you were doing, running out like that?”

“I was hungry. What the hell did you think you were doing, hanging on that lying woman’s every word? Flirting with her while she practically accused Jacob of treason.”

He froze. His eyes hardened. “Treason?” The word slipped from his lips, a lethal exhalation of breath. “I didn’t hear her say anything about treason.”

Panic flared in her eyes, but she shrugged in a futile attempt to avoid his unspoken question. Her glance darted from side to side. “People are staring,” she hissed.

Cole forced a smile and took her hand in his. Their altercation was indeed drawing unwanted attention. The last thing he wanted was to stand out. Hell, he’d bet Alistair’s men already knew of their visit to Cherise. “Come on.” He started walking.

Relieved that she followed despite her anger, he set a fast pace. She was in danger. Every instinct he possessed screamed it.

“Cole…”

“Wait, let’s go someplace private first.” He glanced at her tense face.

Apparently, he succeeded in communicating urgency, because she held her questions and ran to keep up, her hand locked in his.

They weaved in and out of the heavy foot traffic for a couple of blocks until a taxi pulled to the curb ahead of them and an elderly couple stepped out.

Cole caught the door and slipped inside, pulling Emma with him. He fired instructions in French.

“What?” Her exclamation was lost as he spoke rapidly to the driver, pulled out his wallet, and handed several bills into the front seat. The car sped from the curb.

“What are—” The car turned sharply down a side street, interrupting her question a second time. She fumbled for her seat belt. The cab spun around another corner, and she careened into Cole. Aware of her confusion, he remained focused on the traffic behind them, searching for any sign they were followed.

The cab jerked to a halt. Cole’s door flew open.

“What do—?”

He reached to unhook her seat belt, pulling her from the cab. The backpack slipped from her fingers. She lunged for it, barely capturing the strap before they took off down the street.

This time he sprinted, pulling her along behind. “You really need to work on your vocabulary, dear.”

Her retort died as he yanked her into the doorway of a quaint building made of limestone.

She opened her mouth and then slammed it shut.

They approached the empty desk and rang the bell.

He turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay.” She pulled her hand from his. “What…?”

“
Bonjour
, may I help you?” An elderly matron with bright red hair and sparkling green eyes greeted them with a wide smile.

Despite the adrenaline rushing through him, Cole bit back a grin as Emma’s
what
hung in the air yet again.

…

Unbelievable. Cole couldn’t have cut off her questions more effectively if he tried. Emma forced a smile.

“Your place is beautiful.” She gestured to the spacious combined sitting and dining room. The chintz patterns and hand-carved molding reminded her of a simpler, more genteel time. A time when crazy men didn’t drag women in and out of speeding cars.

“Why thank you,
mademoiselle
.” The plump woman beamed with delight.

“My wife and I are hoping you have a room. A private one with a private bath would be ideal.” He reclaimed Emma’s hand, squeezing gently.

She glared at him. Preferring not to continue the
what
game, she saved her protest for later.

“You are in luck. We have the honeymoon suite. Not only is there a full bath, but also a fine Jacuzzi. Perfect for young love.” The woman winked at him.

Was there a woman in the world who didn’t flirt with the man?

“Perfect, indeed.” He signed the register and handed over some Euros from his endless supply of cash.

The woman handed him the key. “It’s the only room on the third floor.”

Tired of being dragged around, Emma started for the stairs, this time pulling Cole behind her. “Come along, hubby. The Jacuzzi sounds glorious.”

By the time they climbed two flights of stairs, anger had returned full force. If the stomp of their feet was any indication, a fight—and a big one—was about to break out once the door to the honeymoon suite closed.

Cole opened the door and blocked Emma’s path when she would have brushed past him. Treading stealthily ahead of her, he checked the bathroom and bedroom. He returned to the main room to close and lock the door before making sure the window was secure as well.

For a moment, he rested his hands on the window sill while she examined the room. Rich, dark paneling showcased an inviting love seat and captains’ chairs seated in front of a stone fireplace. The door to the right opened onto a spacious bathroom. A marble Jacuzzi held the place of honor beneath a skylight. Under other circumstances, she’d have been thrilled to stay here—just not right now.

She watched Cole inhale deeply and turn to face her.

Warily—determinedly—they faced off in the middle of the room. Emma prepared for battle.

…

Cole stared at her. When he’d chosen this place, he’d looked forward to her reaction to the decadent bath. Now, he no longer cared. He simply waited to see how she’d tackle the disagreement simmering between them.

She attacked, but under the semblance of calm.

“My brother is not in league with Alistair Forrester.” Composure quickly gave way to passion. “He’s not his partner, not his friend, not his lackey.” She pointed at him. “You’re an idiot to believe anything Cherise says.”

“I would be an idiot to believe
everything
Cherise says, but the best lies have an element of truth. When you took off, I was trying to determine what bits of truth she had to offer.”

“Because you’re trained to detect truth from lies.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets, watching him carefully—examining him as if she could discern what truth
he
had to offer.

It annoyed the hell out of him. He wasn’t the liar in the room. He might not have shared everything he knew, but he hadn’t lied. “Apparently, I am an idiot. I suspected there was more to your story, but treason? I didn’t see that coming. That’s not an accusation you just pull out of the air. Why would you say that?”

She remained stubbornly silent. Despite his anger and frustration, the fear in her eyes tugged on his heart. “Look, I’ll do what I can to help you, to help Jacob, but I need the truth. Do you suspect Jacob of treason?”

Red suffused her cheeks. “I have never, will never, suspect Jacob of treason.” She placed a barely discernible emphasis on
Jacob
.

Just enough that Cole could not believe the implication. “Is it Cherise you suspect?”

“Yes.”

This sounded like the truth, but there’d been the slightest hesitation. He felt the tic in his jaw begin to pulse. He forced his voice to remain even. “Do you suspect me?” Even to his own ears, the placating calm he’d intended sounded deadly.

Color drained from her face.

“You do suspect me!” He ran his hand roughly along his jaw, the sandpaper sound of whiskers loud in the silent room. “Why would you suspect me? Why do you suspect anyone of treason?” When she remained silent, he added. “Don’t you think it’s past time we told each other the truth? That’s the only way we’re going to find your brother.”

Emma bit the inside of her lip. He watched indecision war with the desire to confide.

“Look, I know you have reasons to doubt me, but I never wanted to betray Jacob, never wanted to like him. I may have arranged to meet him because of my investigation, but I liked him. I liked him,
and
I wanted the truth. It would have made me very happy to discover he was not in league with Alistair. And I didn’t intentionally betray him with Cherise. I don’t even remember that night.” Finally, he’d said it.

Not that claiming he’d suffered a blackout made him look better—even if it was the truth. Although, now that he suspected her of being in league with Alistair, that night took on new significance. Again, he wondered if he’d been drugged, and, if so, how.

Emma stared at him, doubt evident. He saw the moment when she chose trust, not willingly, but resignedly, as if he was the best of her bad options.

“You don’t trust me.” Her words weren’t an accusation, merely a statement of fact.

“I want to be able to trust you.” He hoped there was no mistaking the ring of truth in his words.

“And I want to be able to trust you.”

Even though he knew she’d suspected him of playing for the bad guys, it surprised him how much her quiet response hurt. The sword of truth cut both ways.

He softened his voice. “It’s time, don’t you think? Time to lay everything on the table.”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek. She took a deep breath and nodded.

They stood in silence. One of them had to go first.

“Forrester—”

“Jacob—”

They spoke at the same time, reluctant half-smiles lightening the mood between them.

This time, Cole spoke first. “Let’s sit down.”

They moved toward the antique table near the window. He reached her chair first and pulled it out.

“Thanks.” She sat, pulling her hands from her pockets. Her right hand unclenched to reveal her hot pink Mace. She unhooked the clasp that anchored it to her coat. The canister fell to the table.

He shook his head as he sat. Pepper spray on a string. The woman needed a better self-defense plan.

“I’ll go first.” Emma waited for his nod before proceeding. “Jacob took on a special assignment a little over six months ago. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but…” She shrugged.

“The two of you are close.”

She nodded. “We’re all we have.” She rolled the Mace back and forth with one finger, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He reached out to still her movements. She turned her hand over to clasp his. He fought the urge to caress her soft skin with his fingertips, greatly fearing that, whatever the truth, she had him now. She just didn’t know it.

“There were men attempting another 9-11 type of attack, and they needed an elite group of carriers to deliver information. Jacob traveled around the world. I don’t think he ever knew much about the packages he delivered. It was very hush-hush. And a huge honor to be trusted with such important work.”

Cole struggled to control his mounting anger. He’d heard similar stories before.

She paused, worrying her lip with her teeth. “Two weeks ago, Jacob was on another mission. He calls every Sunday, no matter what. This time, he didn’t call.” She inhaled a shaky breath and looked into his eyes. “The following Wednesday, a package arrived. Not at home. At the office. It was a funny little poem from Jacob. Something about a goat and a boat in a big castle moat.” Her hand trembled in his. “If you read it, it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “But it meant something to you.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand. “It was a code Jacob and I created as kids. We were always playing spy, saving the world.” Emma stared at the hot pink pepper spray. “After 9-11, we sometimes used the code for fun when sending packages or birthday messages. Memories of our youth.” She shrugged.

“That’s how you knew the letter was really from Jacob and not someone trying to pass himself off as your brother.” He felt her relief that he understood, that she and Jacob were no longer in this alone.

“Yes.” She nodded again. “It said we were in danger. To trust no one. That he suspected treason.”

Treason. The ugly word hung in the air between them.

“What exactly was his message?”

“
Treason. Be careful and trust no one.
I’ll be back by Sunday.
He sent the message in a package along with this hot pink pepper spray.” She offered a half smile. “My annual birthday present—designer pepper spray.

“When you showed up on the island and destroyed my only clue to Jacob’s location, I thought…well, maybe you knew something about his disappearance. Then, suddenly, Homeland Security was granting you clearance to carry a concealed weapon on the plane, and I thought someone who was connected like that…” She reached out to touch his hand. “I had to consider it might be you.” She pulled back, her fingers trailing across his skin as if reluctant to break contact, and clasped her hands in front of her. “Or maybe someone you trust.”

The helpless taste of her anger and uncertainty engulfed Cole. Jacob had left her in a hell of a bind.
Trust no one
was a very specific instruction, and yet, impossibly vague.

He read remnants of reluctant doubt in her wide, brown eyes. Although she trusted him, no,
wanted
to trust him, her uneasy faith did not extend to everyone he relied on. They still had a problem; he just didn’t know yet how big a barrier it would be.