Hard Night (11th Hour #3)

by Jackie Ashenden

  She said nothing.

  “I went to the hospital in Florida hoping to talk to you, see what you knew about that mission, about my brother and whether you could help me find him. And that’s when I discovered you had no memory of your former life.”

  “So you decided to take me and basically adopt me for six months?” There was no expression in her voice.

  “Yes.” He saw no point in denying it or apologizing for it. “I’d had reports that I wasn’t the only visitor who wanted to see you while you were in the hospital. That there were others. I had some sources investigate and it became apparent that the people trying to visit you were associated with the arms ring. Which meant you were associated with it in some way too. I couldn’t wait until your memory returned and I didn’t want these other assholes getting hold of you either, so yes, I lied and told the staff I was your cousin. I paid a lot of money to get you out and bring you back to San Diego with me.”

  She looked away briefly, out the window into the sky beyond.

  Was she disturbed by this news? Unhappy? Angry? He couldn’t tell, not that it mattered. Leaving her in that hospital would have resulted in her death so no, he wasn’t sorry in the least.

  “And you’re certain I’m associated with this arms ring then?”

  “Yes. Though in what capacity I have no idea. I was able to get some information from Phillip Blake, however.” Kellan’s father had not been pleased with his tactics, but Jacob didn’t care. He’d spent too many years looking for Joshua to have anyone stand in his way now that he was so close to finding him. “The guy Blake and the others dealt with when selling the guns was a go-between. He managed the deals on behalf of a man called Smith, who ran the whole show. Blake told me you were Smith’s lover and that Smith told you everything about the ring.” He paused yet again, watching her carefully. “I suspect Smith is my brother.”

  She was very still, her gaze still fixed to the window. “Stop.”

  He didn’t argue. He had no more to tell her anyway. That was all the information he’d managed to get over the past six months and it was paltry at best.

  Nothing but suspicion and rumor, of an arms ring managed by an American called Smith, who was supposedly ex-military. A man whose physical description could have been Jacob himself.

  Which was why, even though Jacob had no concrete proof, he thought Smith was Joshua. Because Joshua was his twin.

  However, if it was true, then it involved a whole lot of implications that Jacob didn’t want to think about, not until he had that proof. Such as how his brother had gone from the military to importing illegal arms. And why. And just what the fuck he was going to do about that.

  His twin had always been the quieter, more thoughtful, less aggressive one. And Jacob had promised their mother he’d look after Joshua should the breast cancer kill her. It had killed her and so the two boys had been sent to live with Rebecca, his mother’s closest friend. That had been the second step in the slow loss of everything Jacob had loved.

  As it had turned out, he’d failed in his promise to his mother and he’d lost Joshua, and where his twin had gone, he’d had no idea.

  Until now.

  Unfortunately though, the only link he had to Joshua was sitting opposite him and she had no memory.

  Jacob watched her, but she remained silent, her gaze on the sky. Her hands were gripping the arms of the seat, her knuckles white against the black leather.

  This was tough for her to hear, he got that. But it was all necessary and he didn’t regret telling her. He’d been searching for Joshua for too long to let her feelings interfere.

  Joanna Lynn. Who’d been part of a black ops mission and whose involvement with “Smith” he still didn’t have enough information about.

  Fuck, he needed her to remember.

  But she said nothing, not even looking at him, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anything more from her. At least not yet. Best to leave her to process this on her own like she’d asked.

  He had a plane to fly anyway, plus he needed to get in contact with the 11th Hour team and let them know what had happened. He’d pull them off any jobs they had going on and get them investigating exactly who was after Faith.

  Shoving himself out of the chair and only just managing not to wince as the stitches pulled, Jacob turned in the direction of the cockpit.

  “That’s all you wanted me for? So I could tell you where your brother was?”

  He halted, but didn’t turn, the question irritating him for some reason. “Of course. Why else?”

  But she didn’t reply.

  CHAPTER 4

  Faith carefully thought of nothing as the jet touched down on a tiny private airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Outside there was only forest and what looked to be the remains of a ruined stone building on a rocky outcrop. Grass and other vegetation grew among the crumbling stones. It looked like the place hadn’t been visited in years and she couldn’t imagine why they were visiting now.

  Was this the safe house that Jacob had mentioned? And if so, was he expecting her to camp out in an abandoned building?

  “Here?” she asked him as he came out of the cockpit and disarmed the door to the jet. “Really?”

  He didn’t reply, lowering the stairs, then jerking his head toward the door, clearly indicating for her to get out. There was a glittering look in his eyes that she couldn’t interpret.

  Inexplicably irritated, she bit down on her questions and moved to the plane’s entrance before going gingerly down the stairs and onto the tarmac of the airstrip.

  The air smelled of salt and forest, and she could hear the sea crashing against rocks.

  She looked around curiously, noting that even though the stone building appeared overgrown and abandoned, and the flat area around the airstrip was full of weeds, overlong grass, and stones, the tarmac itself was meticulously maintained. There was a flat concrete slab not far away that was also clean.

  Was that . . . a helipad?

  Jacob was moving toward the stone building, his stride in no way hampered by the gunshot wound in his thigh, and Faith had to trot to catch up with him.

  Off the airstrip, she kept stumbling over stones, making her wish she’d rethought the stupid high heels she was wearing. Then again, when she’d gotten dressed this morning she hadn’t counted on being shot at, then whisked away to some remote location by her mysterious boss.

  Or being told who you really are.

  Yeah, she wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet. Not until she was familiar with where she was and what was happening. Everything was too much to deal with at the moment, let alone having her actual identity thrust on her.

  There was a set of uneven, broken stairs leading up to what once must have been the door of the building, but was now a gaping hole. Yet Jacob didn’t approach the stairs. Instead he headed to another doorway with stairs leading down into darkness.

  The steps were mossy and slippery looking, the rusty iron handrail set into the brick wall sagging, and she could smell damp concrete and wet earth.

  Unease coiled in her gut.

  But Jacob headed down the stairs without hesitation and so she steeled herself, going down them slowly and trying not to slip.

  At the bottom, it was completely dark, and she had to take a couple of breaths to stop from panicking. Jacob had stopped and appeared to be fiddling around with a rusty metal box set on the wall, pulling it open.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw he was standing in front of another door, this time a metal one. Rust streaked this, too. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries.

  There must have been controls on the wall, because Jacob did something and she heard a heavy thump. Then he put his hand on the rusty metal door’s handle and pulled it.

  The door swung open soundlessly.

  Okay, so maybe it had been opened more recently than centuries ago. It made sense though, the illusion of abandonment. Like the carefully maintained tarmac of the airstrip, i
t was all designed to give the appearance that nothing was here.

  But something was, clearly. The only remaining question was what?

  Jacob gestured to the doorway, his eyes gleaming with what looked a little like challenge.

  Foreboding twisted inside her, though why that was she had no idea. Ignoring it, she stepped through the doorway.

  There was a short hallway, well lit and painted white, in complete contrast to the darkness and damp concrete of where she’d just been standing. At the end of it was another door.

  Jacob wouldn’t have made her go first if there was danger waiting for her, so she put her hand on the door handle and opened it without hesitation.

  She found herself standing in a big room, with a bank of windows opposite her. They gave a view out over the cliff and a blue expanse of sea. The room was painted white and was clearly a living room of some sort, because there were dark leather couches arranged at one end of it, with shelving nearby that contained a multitude of books and what looked like a stereo. A massive flat-screen TV was on the wall near the couch. At the other end of the room were a long, rustic dining table and chairs in dark oak.

  There were no pictures on the wall or knickknacks of any kind, only books and electronics. The floor was polished wood, gleaming in the light coming through the windows.

  Doors that must lead off into other areas of the—house? bunker?—were situated at each end of the room.

  Faith moved over to the windows that looked out over the water, staring down a sharp cliff face to where the waves threw themselves against the rocks. It was almost as if this place had been built into the cliff itself.

  She turned around as she heard the heavy clang of the outer metal door shut, and a couple of seconds later, Jacob came into the room, shutting the door to the short hallway behind him.

  “So . . . what is this place?” she asked. “I guess the run-down look is deliberate?”

  “Of course.” There was an electronic keypad and a small screen beside the door, and with a practiced movement he punched in what must have been a code, the screen flashing red. “It used to be a castle. A rich manufacturing tycoon built it last century for his English wife so she wouldn’t get homesick, but she died before he could finish it.” Jacob took his phone out from his pocket. “The castle turrets were ruined when I bought it, but the rooms under it were all in pretty good repair so I had it modified. And yes, the run-down look is deliberate.” He flashed her a sudden, very white smile. “Wouldn’t make a good safe house if people could find it.”

  “No, I guess not.” She crossed her arms, the sound of the sea below the windows making her feel cold all of a sudden. Though that could have been more to do with the unfamiliarity of the whole situation.

  Everything Jacob had told her in the plane was pressing in on her and she knew she was going to have to think about it at some point, but right now, standing in this new place and not knowing quite what was going on, she just didn’t want to.

  Jacob gestured to one of the doorways. “That way leads to the kitchen, plus other service areas. There should be some food in the cupboards since I keep this place stocked for emergencies. We’re on generator power so it’s off-grid and there’s also a heavily encrypted Wi-Fi signal.” He turned and gestured to the other doorway. “Bathrooms and bedrooms are down that way in case you want to go and freshen up. I have to call the team to let them know what’s going on, plus a few other people. We’re going to need some more supplies so I’ll handle that, too.”

  Faith rubbed at her arms, the cold feeling intensifying inexplicably. “So what? We’re going to hang out here? For how long?”

  “For as long as it takes to get those fuckers off your back.” He lifted the phone, but kept looking at her. “Perhaps even until your memory returns.”

  Faith eyed him, not liking the sound of that. “It’s been six months, Jacob. It won’t simply come back on command.”

  The look in his eyes gleamed. But all he said was “We’ll see.” He turned away, still holding the phone. “Good morning, Mr. Blake. Yes, it’s your lucky day. You get a personal call from your boss.”

  Faith watched as Jacob moved toward the door that apparently led to the kitchen and went through it, his voice fading. Then she let out a breath.

  So. Here they were. In hiding.

  She rubbed her arms again, going over to the windows once more, staring out sightlessly.

  It wouldn’t be too bad. It wasn’t as if she’d have to get used to a whole new city and new people. There were only Jacob and her here, no one else. And it looked like it was pretty remote.

  Nothing here to do but think . . .

  Her fingers dug into her upper arms as what Jacob had told her on the plane came floating back.

  An arms ring that she’d been associated with. A man called Smith. Who’d been her lover. And who Jacob believed to be his brother . . .

  A shudder went through her. An echo, though she wasn’t sure of what. Was that why Jacob had always felt familiar to her somehow? Because she’d known his brother? And he’d told her that he’d spent years searching for said brother. That there had been a black ops mission. And sabotage and—

  She turned from the window abruptly, a rush of panic tightening her muscles. Her brain felt too full, too tangled, the black hole where her memory should be even more terrifying.

  All of what he’d told her should have triggered something, but it hadn’t. Apart from that weird feeling when he’d told her what her real name was, none of the other information had prompted anything at all. As if the darkness shrouding her memory had swallowed it up or simply absorbed it.

  That scared her. It felt like the quiet of an indrawn breath before the scream. A moment of calm before the hurricane hit.

  The panicky feeling deepened.

  Standing around here waiting for Jacob to tell her what to do was a stupid idea. She needed to occupy herself with something, distract herself somehow. Not think.

  Moving over to the doorway that led to what Jacob had told her were the bedroom/bathroom areas, she pushed the door open and went through into another well-lit hallway.

  The white walls were broken only by wall lights and a few doors.

  She opened the first one and looked into a big room that had a couple of bunk beds up against one wall, the view the same as it was from the living area. A utilitarian bedroom, a big dresser the only furniture apart from the bunks.

  She closed the door, then moved on to the door next to it. Another similar bedroom with bunks and a dresser. Was Jacob expecting to provide accommodation for a lot of people or what?

  The door at the end of the hallway led to a bedroom that was different. This room was smaller, with only one bed, a big king-size wooden-framed thing that was pushed beneath the sea-facing windows. But there was another window too in the adjacent wall, looking out over an expanse of flat, rocky ground that ended in yet another cliff. Trees hung over the edge of the cliff, leaning and lopsided, their branches shaped by the wind.

  She moved over to the window, caught by the view and the movement of the wind in the trees, the glitter of the sea beyond them. There was something bleak about the scene and yet beautiful, too, a wildness that tugged at her heart for reasons she didn’t understand.

  Near the window was another door and further exploration yielded a bathroom with the biggest shower stall she’d ever seen. It was tiled in dark slate, the glass walls and stainless steel fittings giving it a stark, industrial feel. She liked it though. There was a texture to the tiles that made it feel less stark than it looked.

  She abruptly felt sweaty and gritty, the urge to jump into the shower and wash everything away almost overwhelming. But then she’d have to put on her old clothes again and that thought didn’t appeal either.

  Leaving the en suite bathroom, she went back into the living area and went over to the bookshelves near the TV, examining the small collection of paperbacks stacked there. They were all fiction in varying genres, though mostly
science fiction and political thrillers.

  Interesting. Was this Jacob’s personal collection? Or was it a random selection?

  Picking up a thriller, she went to sit down on one of the couches. It was more comfortable than she expected, the leather buttery soft and obviously expensive.

  Sitting down and reading wasn’t really what she should be doing right now, but quite frankly there wasn’t anything else to do. Besides, she’d reached her limit with all the new information clamoring for space and attention in her brain.

  Back at the house she shared with Jacob, she watched a lot of TV and movies, as well as reading when she needed to not think. Or she worked like a demon on whatever mission the team were undertaking all the time. She was good at distraction and right now, some distraction was what she needed.

  The sun coming through the windows was warm and as she opened the book to the first page, lethargy wound through her.

  Not surprising considering how awful her sleep had been lately, full of those nightmares of flames and blood, and running down a dusty street being chased by something. Which made her not want to sleep now.

  She tried to shake it off, concentrating on the words on the page, but ten minutes later they were still blurring in front of her eyes and her head felt heavy. After everything that had happened today, she felt exhausted, her brain overloaded and overwhelmed, and she just didn’t have any remaining energy to fight it.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she had a short nap. With any luck the nightmares wouldn’t be able to sink their teeth into her if it was short and a rest would give her a bit more energy to cope with whatever Jacob was going to throw at her.

  Faith closed her eyes. Just for a second.

  * * *

  “Really?” Kellan Blake sounded deeply skeptical. “She wants all that stuff?”