Running on Empty (9 page)

A lone tear drizzled down her pale cheek. 

Finally, he had penetrated that frozen composure. Impacted her rotten, black heart. Why didn’t he feel triumphant? Why didn’t he laugh at her pain and tell her she was going to die? Why instead did he feel a rip so deep in his chest, it felt as if a hand was clawing at his heart?

Before he did something stupidly asinine, like wipe the tear from her cheek, he did an about-face and headed for the door. As he walked out, a question popped from his mouth. “Do you still eat your peas with a knife?”

Shock kept her eyes glued to the door long after he had gone. As comprehension swept through her brain, dizziness washed over her. Uncaring of her hands, which were still tied behind her back, she collapsed onto the bed. No. It couldn’t be. It just could not be. He was gone…dead. He had been blown up right before her eyes. She had seen his ravaged, mangled body. There was no way he was alive. But the question he’d asked... No one but Declan knew that about her.

She had been in training for just a few months…hadn’t even started training with Declan yet. Uncle Al had invited her to have dinner with him, and Declan had been there. Just as they’d sat down to eat, Albert had gotten a phone call and left the table. She had been nervous to be left alone with Declan. Not only was he still mostly a stranger, she had never been that close to anyone so incredibly gorgeous. It was also before she’d had her etiquette training and still had the manners of a pig. Without giving any thought that she should wait on Albert to return, she had picked up her knife, scooped up some peas and slid them into her mouth. While she munched, she’d caught Declan grinning at her. He’d told her later that, silly as it seemed, it was one of the first things he loved about her.

She had stopped the bad habit immediately, but it was something she and Declan had laughed about over the years.

He couldn’t be alive, could he? No, how was that even possible? He was dead…she knew he was dead. Declan had probably just told someone about the peas, and somehow this man had learned this innocuous but private information.

Even as she had that thought, she dismissed it. Declan didn’t tell personal stuff…didn’t talk, period. It was just not his way. So if this man hadn’t learned it secondhand, that could only mean one thing…

An unmistakable noise caught her attention. A helicopter. Voices shouting. Heavy boots running. Her shocked brain acknowledged what was happening—the locator in her arm had done its job. Noah had contacted Uncle Al, and they’d traced the signal. LCR had come to rescue her. 

The door burst open. The man was still wearing a ski mask and sunglasses, but he had something else he hadn’t brought with him before—a gun. “Obviously, we’re not going to be able to continue our discussions as I’d hoped.” He raised the gun and pointed it at her head. His other hand went to the ski mask. 

She reached out a hand toward him. “No…Declan. Don’t.”

The door burst open. Aidan flew through the air and tackled the man, throwing him off his feet. Sabrina watched in horror as the two men rolled around on the floor. Fists slammed into each other’s bodies in a furious fight. Aidan’s hits were pure rage, but then Declan did something extraordinary. He dropped his hand to his sides and stopped fighting, stopped hitting back. It was as if he didn’t care…as if he didn’t want to live. 

“Stop it, Aidan!” She tugged violently on the chains around her wrists. Aidan was going to kill him. “Dammit, stop!” she bellowed.

Finally, Aidan pinned the other man to the floor and looked over at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He turned his attention back to the man he’d beaten. “Let’s see who this bastard is.” He ripped off the mask.

A gasp of horror, followed by a whimper, escaped Sabrina. Her distress wasn’t caused by the fact that it was Declan. Unbelievable as it was, her brain had already acknowledged he was alive. But this wasn’t the Declan she remembered. His face was the same but not. Harsh, unforgiving, brutal. His beautiful eyes, once as blue as the ocean, were dark, murky…dead. This wasn’t the beautiful, charming man she had loved. This man looked as though he’d crawled through hell and had left his soul behind.

“Who are you?” Aidan snarled. 

When Declan didn’t answer, Aidan raised his fist, ready to deal him a knockout blow. “No!” Sabrina screamed. “Don’t!”

Aidan held his punch and looked up at her. “You know this guy?”

Her entire body trembling with shock and sorrow, she nodded.

“Who the hell is he?”

Finally finding her voice, she managed a hoarse whisper, “Declan Steele…my husband.”

Chapter Seven

LCR medical facility 

Alexandria, Virginia

Legs curled beneath her, Sabrina sat on a sofa in the small waiting room and sipped hot, soothing herbal tea. Declan was in the next room being examined by one of LCR’s doctors. 

The second after she’d whispered that Declan was her husband, he’d started fighting like a fiend. Aidan had ended up having to knock him out to subdue him. On the flight back, he had regained consciousness but refused to look at her. She had tried talking to him, but he’d just stared past her as if she didn’t exist.

Aidan had zip-tied his wrists. When Declan had woken, he’d glanced down at his bound hands and hadn’t flinched. He had been worryingly docile. No emotion, not even anger, appeared on his face.

This wasn’t the Declan she knew. Her Declan would have been cursing and hurling insults while he fought like a demon to be set free. This Declan acted as if he wasn’t even human.

There wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t ache. She was worn out, physically and mentally. The residual effects from the drugs continued to weigh her down, along with the shock of her abduction. However, nothing had shocked her system quite so much as finding out that her husband was alive. The man she had watched blown to bits before her eyes hadn’t been Declan. The closed casket carrying his remains that she had held on to, sobbing, hadn’t been her husband’s. The hand she’d found with an identical wedding ring hadn’t been Declan’s. Who had that man been? And who had set it up to make it appear that Declan was dead? 

She had seen the DNA reports confirming that the body was Declan’s. There had been no doubt that the man she’d seen blown up had been Declan Steele. So who the hell had created this elaborate hoax?

Where had Declan been? The dark, bleak look in his eyes told a tale of unspeakable horror. What had he endured? And why did he seem to hate her?

The cell phone lying on the coffee table in front of her chirped. She took a shaky breath, already knowing the identity of the caller. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to him. Had he been the one to betray them? It hurt to even have that thought. He had been a father figure and her mentor. Could the man who had saved her from hell been responsible for sending her to another one? 

Albert had been in charge of the Agency when this went down. If nothing else, she held him responsible for allowing something like this to happen on his watch. And as much as it hurt to consider her mentor and friend as dirty, she refused to bury her head in the sand and blindly trust him as she once had.

She would have to talk to him eventually. She pressed the answer key. “Hey, Uncle Al.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Guess you’ve heard.”

“Yes. I don’t know what to say other than we’ll find out the truth, my dear.”

“Yes, we will.”

“I wanted him brought to me, but your boss refused.”

Even though she couldn’t smile…wasn’t sure she ever would again, she felt amusement at the insult in Al’s tone. No one turned down Albert Marks. Kind to many, he was also a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Few crossed him. Those who did lived to regret it. And she had heard rumors that some hadn’t lived afterward.

“That was at my request.”

“He’s one of ours. I may be retired, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ensure he gets the help he needs. We could—”

“He’s my husband. My responsibility.”

“And he’s obviously damaged. He needs help.”

“And he’ll get whatever he needs, but only from people I can completely trust.”

The silence was painful. Sabrina inwardly winced but refused to apologize. He had to know where she stood.

“You’re right, my dear. I’m sorry. I will find out who did this, and they will be dealt with accordingly.”

“If you find out, I want to know. And if I find out first, I’ll let you know.”

“That seems fair, but I would like to talk with Declan myself.”

“I’ll ask him. If he says yes, I’ll contact you.”

Albert huffed a harsh breath into the phone. “I know you hold me responsible…as you should. He’s one of mine, and I failed him.” In the hard voice she’d heard only a few times, he added, “Someone will pay, I promise.”

“Good-bye, Uncle Al.” Sabrina ended the call before she said anything she would regret. She was no closer to knowing Al’s innocence or guilt than she had been before, but she agreed with him on one thing. Whoever had done this to Declan would pay. She would make sure of it.

Declan lay on the bed. Not just any bed, though. This one he was handcuffed to, on both sides. A man with coal-black eyes and an even darker expression had told him he would stay this way until he could be trusted.

How laughable. No way in hell were they going to release him. He had exchanged one prison cell for another. Admittedly, this one smelled a lot cleaner, but prison was prison.

He should’ve killed her when he’d had the chance. He had intended to. That had been his only goal when he was being beaten and interrogated. He had seen her in his mind’s eye and had held on to that goal of one day taking his revenge. He’d had her in his grasp, could have taken her out at anytime he liked. But then old, useless memories had stalled his plan. When he escaped, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

For now, he would stay put. He had spent thirteen months in a hellish prison without talking. Anything these people did to him here would be a picnic.

The door clicked open, and she stood there. He didn’t have to look to know it was her. There was just something about Sabrina. If he’d been blindfolded and a hundred women walked through those doors, one at a time, he would have had no trouble picking her out. He used to think it was some sort of psychic connection—something mystical. What a crock.

“Declan?” she said softly, tentatively.

He did nothing to acknowledge her presence.

She came to stand beside the bed, and he had no choice but to see her. She still looked exhausted, and that hideous bruise on her face had darkened to a blue green. Despite all of that, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. That thought confirmed just how screwed up he really was.

She sat in the chair beside the bed and lightly touched his hand, which was attached to the railing by handcuffs. “I don’t know what happened. It’s obvious you’re furious with me.” The laugh she released held a definite sob. “I know I’m a slow study sometimes, but kidnapping me and threatening to shoot me was a good clue.”

When he said nothing, she whispered, “Please, Declan, tell me what happened…where you’ve been.”

Tears glistened in her beautiful eyes, and Declan ground his teeth together to keep from saying something to comfort her. It had once been his job—one that he’d taken with utmost seriousness. These tears were obviously fake. She was an excellent liar…he had trained her well. They used to practice on each other. A game they’d played for fun and to keep their skills sharp.

A sigh came from her lips, and warm breath rushed over his face. Despite his best attempt to stop it, blood rushed to his groin, and Declan felt himself harden. Well, so the hell what? It had been a long time since he’d had sex. Any woman would turn him on. His reaction was a normal, physical response. It meant nothing.

“All right.” She continued to caress his hand as if she couldn’t stop touching him. “You can keep silent as long as you feel the need. Let me tell you what I know, and then hopefully by then you’ll be willing to share.”

Her voice was thick, husky. “I watched you die, Declan. I was standing maybe fifty yards from you when the bomb went off. I found…” She swallowed and continued, “I found only pieces of you.”

Did she honestly think he was going to believe her? How much bullshit was she willing to feed him? Yeah, he knew all about the supposed bomb. Jackson had told him everyone believed he had died. But not this woman—she knew it wasn’t the truth.

“What I found…was barely recognizable, but we found your identification. Your wedding ring was on the hand I found. They did DNA testing. Which you know is standard procedure for the Agency. The results came back as an exact match to yours.” She breathed out another shaky breath. “I had no reason not to believe it was you.”

She swallowed and added, “I buried you in Scotland…beside your parents and sister.”

So some nameless stranger was buried in his place? Or was that even the truth? How was he to separate the truth from the lies? He couldn’t. All he could do was disbelieve everything.

“I’m telling you the truth, Declan.”

He was tired of this bullshit. His jaw so tight with anger he thought it might crack, he managed to grind out, “You set me up.”

Her eyes went wide with shock, and her already pale face went a sickly yellow. “You…I… What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t try to deny it.”

She was shaking her head before he finished his words. “How did I set you up?”

He turned his gaze away from her. “There’s no reason to talk with you. Whatever comes out of your mouth is a lie.”

“The least you can do is tell me why you think I set you up.”

He closed his eyes as pain speared through his head. 

“Declan? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Despite the searing agony in his head, he sent her a glare that had her gasping and jerking back. Good. The sooner they got past the lies, the quicker the truth would come out. 

A knock on the door sent her to her feet. “Got a minute, Fox?” a deep male voice asked.