Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense)

by Cathy Marlowe

  An unpleasant odor wafted among them. “Eeww, Daniel!” Sam scrunched her nose. Her solemn expression gave way to giggles as she pushed at Zach’s arm. “Eeww! Change him.”

  Laughing, Zach took Daniel to the bedroom. After he had a fresh diaper, they stayed in the room, playing. Zach told himself Lizzie needed alone time with Sam but reluctantly admitted he was still a little scared of his daughter, and not quite ready to broach the subject that bothered him—Lizzie’s reaction to his calling Daniel “Ace.”

  He’d just laid Daniel down for his morning nap when a knock sounded at the front door. He hurried into the family room, intensely aware of the gun nestled beneath his jacket. Lizzie and Sam watched him from the couch, where they’d been reading a book. Checking the peephole, he opened the door with a hearty, “Good morning,” exaggerated to put his ladies at ease.

  Cole entered, a tray of coffee in one hand, a large bag in the other, and a neon pink backpack hanging from his arm. “Morning. Sophie sent breakfast. She said to tell you thanks for the invitation, but she thought you could use some privacy this morning. You’re supposed to call her later today if you’re up for visitors.” He set the bag on the coffee table and winked at Sam as he handed her the pink bag. “Aunt Sophie thought you might need some toys.”

  Sophie, God love her. He was starving. From Lizzie’s hungry glance at the bag, so was she. Sam beamed and unzipped her bag, peeking inside to see the toys.

  “Join us, Cole,” Lizzie offered.

  “Thanks, but I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep.” Before he left, he removed an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Zach. “Kyle said to tell you he tore your office apart while you were missing and found this.”

  Zach glanced at the envelope, felt no recognition.

  With a nod, Cole pulled the door shut, leaving them alone. Zach locked the door behind him.

  They set out the food, and Sam joined them for a light second breakfast and then dragged her backpack in front of the fireplace to play. He polished off his second enormous muffin and reached for a third, causing Lizzie to laugh. “I’m hungry,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders with a grin.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t think this is unusual—you always eat ridiculously huge amounts of muffins.” She grinned back at him. “Sometimes you are so much like Zach…”

  Her voice drifted off as she realized what she’d said.

  All humor gone, he clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. He chose his words with care. “I’m not like Zach. I am Zach.” His stared at her. “My name is Zach.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? Since that moment at the lake when you called me Thomas, you’ve been very careful not to call me anything. I suppose this is my own fault for insisting you call me Thomas back at the Forrester compound.”

  He looked away, running his hand through his hair as the facts intruded on his lovely morning. How easily he had assumed Zach’s life—so easily that he’d temporarily blocked the reality of the past month from his mind. He turned back to his wife. “I should have told you the truth.”

  They sat in a silence filled with the things they were afraid to say. “Maybe that’s it.” He forced out the words. “Maybe I am Thomas Forrester. Maybe I lied to you, to my wife, about a lot of important things.”

  She touched his hand. “Maybe you did. And right now I don’t know what to do about that.” She looked into his eyes. “But I am sorry…about what happened back on the ice. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’ve been so wonderful through everything, even…”

  “Stop.” He looked away, running his hand along his jaw in frustration. “Please stop talking about me as though I’m just some stranger who did you a favor.”

  Leaning forward, he took her hands in his. “I know I answered to Thomas for those weeks we were held by Alistair, and I know there’s a chance that at one time my name was Thomas Forrester, but I like to think I wasn’t anything like the Thomas he intended me to be. That if I did leave to create a new life for myself, it was precisely because I saw the legacy of arrogance and cruelty in my father and I ran like hell.”

  When she opened her mouth to speak, he swallowed hard and shook his head. “Please try to understand. I look at you with Zach’s eyes and I feel you with Zach’s hands. I hold you with Zach’s arms. When you laugh, I know that sound. I know it with Zach’s heart.

  “I was Thomas Forrester for four weeks. Four weeks where I never felt as much like myself as I feel right now, sitting next to you.” He finished his plea and, uncomfortable, looked away.

  “Oh, Zach.” In spite of the tension between them, the sound of his name on her lips warmed his heart. “I just…it’s…” She waved her hand in frustration, as if to encompass the whole nightmare they’d been through. “It’s not just you. Not really. It’s me, too. You don’t remember, but I wasn’t the same after Daniel was born. I was so scared. I’m scared now. You don’t remember the old Lizzie, the one you fell in love with. And this Lizzie, I’m afraid she might be a poor copy of the original. What if…what if you can’t fall in love with me again?”

  She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice fading to a whisper. “What if you can’t love me anymore?”

  “Ah, honey.” He raised his right hand to wipe tears from her cheeks. “Don’t you know I already fell in love with you all over again on the island? Even with the secrets and ugly hair.” His teasing had the desired effect as a laugh escaped her. “I was drawn to you in ways I didn’t understand. It was your loving care of Daniel.” He was careful to call their boy by his rightful name. “It was the way sparks flew from your eyes when you were angry, it was your strength and your vulnerability, and although I seldom heard it, your sexy laugh.

  “I don’t know how much was latent memory and how much was me being drawn to you all over again. Frankly, I don’t really care. I just know that I love you and I love our family.” He paused. “That’s enough for me. I guess the question is, is it enough for you?”

  When she remained silent, he continued nervously, “I know I let you down, that you’ve been hurt badly these past weeks because I failed you. I know that maybe I lied to you about my background. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I understand. Whatever you want, I’ll honor your wishes.”

  He raised his hand and traced a path with his fingertips along her collarbone, caressing the side of her neck where the delicate vein revealed the increased rate of her heartbeat. He cupped her face, resting his thumbs against the bottom lip she chewed when she was worried. His thumbs gently stroked her lip as he awaited her response.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Zach,” Lizzie whispered in a small voice while gifting him with a trembling smile. “Why did you do that with your hand, run your fingers here and place your thumbs here, like this?” She placed her hand over his.

  He stroked her skin with his fingertips. “I don’t know. It just felt…I wanted to feel that spot on your neck where your heartbeat reveals your emotions. And I wanted to wipe away the worry where you bite your lip.” He continued to run his thumb along her lip. “Why?” he asked, but he already knew. It was something Zach, the other Zach, the much-loved Zach, would do.

  Keeping one hand on his, she rested the other against his face. “You place your hand right here, just like this, during, uh, intimate moments.”

  “Really?” He was so grateful she hadn’t even implied he was behaving “like Zach” that he grinned as he teased her, “I would have thought that during intimate moments, my hands would be moving to other places.”

  Although he kept one hand in place, cupping her face, his other hand began a suggestive journey at her knee, moving slowly up to mid-thigh, where it paused as he was struck by the forwardness of his action. Remaining motionless, he waited.

  With a bewitching smile, she edged closer to him, causing his hand to slide a fraction higher on her leg, and kissed him, pulling back so slightly that he could feel her breath on his face as she spoke. “Oh
, your hands do just fine during those intimate moments.” Much to his disappointment, she drew back. “I was talking about other, emotionally intimate moments.”

  Stroking his face one last time, she moved her hand from his cheek, tracing a line along his jaw and then running a finger over his lips. “I…I don’t think you should just say you love me. We have to be realistic. I mean, I know you, even if we have questions about your past. You’ve repeatedly shown me that you’re the man I fell in love with. But me—well, I think you need to take time and get to know me, make sure I’m what you really want…”

  He frowned. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to have my wife sitting around waiting for me to decide I don’t love her. That is what you’re suggesting, isn’t it?”

  A wisp of a sigh escaped her lips. “That sounds a little harsh, but I guess so. You’ve been so wonderful through all this. Even on the island you were…”

  Frustrated at how easily she discounted his words, he tried a different approach. He leaned in as she talked, kissing first her forehead, then her cheek, slipping down to nuzzle her neck and working his way back up along her jaw, until he hovered over her silent mouth.

  Then he kissed her.

  …

  Lizzie’s breath escaped softly as Zach’s lips touched hers, teasing her with the promise of more. Again and again, each kiss offering a little bit more, seducing her with an exciting combination of familiarity and the unknown.

  “Daddy! Come here!” Sam’s excited voice called to them. They broke apart with a last sweet kiss. She watched him closely as he looked at the little girl but made no effort to go to her.

  “Zach.” She squeezed his hand. “Your daughter is asking for you.”

  “I don’t think…” His words trailed off uncertainly.

  Her heart constricted. He was scared. “Your daughter sees you sitting here and she wants to show you her…” She looked back at Sam, saw her waving a toy in the air. “Her fire-breathing dragon.”

  He frowned. “Her what?”

  “Yes, you, not Grant, are the slayer of the fire-breathing dragon.” At his raised eyebrows, she nodded. “You know, the knight, sometimes the prince, and together with the princess, you slay the dragon. You even have a toy sword and shield at home.”

  At his disbelieving look, she giggled. His frown lightened at the sound of her laugh. Rising from the couch, he walked to the play area they’d set up. He crouched down next to the excited little girl. “Hey there, how’s my princess?”

  He glanced back at Lizzie. She swiped a tear from her eye as she nodded. “You’ve always called her that.”

  Turning back to Sam, Zach sat on the floor. Sam growled ferociously as the dragon attacked him. He put up a valiant fight, vanquishing the beast only after his cries brought help from the princess. When the dragon was finally slain, he scooped Sam up and hugged her close. Before he could say anything, she wiggled away and grabbed the dragon and they played again. And again. And again.

  Twenty minutes later, when she finally tired of playing dragon, he lifted her in his arms and swung her around until she broke into giggles. Holding her close, he looked at Lizzie and frowned. Her eyes widened in surprise. He warned in a threatening voice, “Grant better have kept his hands off my sword.”

  Her surprise turned to laughter. Even here in the condo, she felt like they’d come home.

  …

  The late afternoon peeked through the closed blinds. After a day filled with family time, the kids were down for a nap. Sam had been last to fall asleep and although she slept soundly, Zach continued to sit next to her. Across the room, Daniel slept contentedly in his crib. Sam. Zach sighed as he straightened Sam’s blanket, running his hand lovingly across the little girl’s head. He’d been so worried he wouldn’t relate to her, wouldn’t feel the same love he felt for Daniel.

  His feelings for Daniel and Lizzie had been so natural. They just welled up from inside him before he really understood how powerfully he was connected to them. But Sam—he’d had so many expectations, and Lizzie, although she hadn’t said anything, had had expectations, too. He’d been scared.

  Running his fingers back and forth along Sam’s arm, he smiled. He’d worried for nothing. From the moment he held her, he’d loved her.

  Tucking her blanket securely around her, he returned to Lizzie. “We need to talk…” he began as he entered the sitting area, but she had already fallen asleep on the couch.

  It was critical that they talk about Alistair, and just as important that they address the strain between them. She loved him, but he sensed she didn’t completely trust him, and he didn’t know what to say about that. She had a right to her distrust.

  Right now, he knew she needed rest to recover from the nightmare of the past weeks. Removing the light blanket from the back of the couch, he tucked it around her and brushed his hand across her cheek. With a last longing look, he walked reluctantly over to the kitchen island. It was time to open the envelope.

  He sat on the barstool. His fingers drummed a steady beat on the counter. Someone had already opened the envelope, sealing the flap again with a piece of tape. Probably Kyle.

  Finally, he picked it up, turning it over to see his neat handwriting on the front of the envelope. There was only one word.

  Thomas.

  His eyes were drawn back to the couch where his wife slept. A chill seemed to settle in the room. Although Zach knew it was as much due to his mood as to the waning day, he built a fire before returning to sit next to Lizzie, envelope in hand.

  Both craving and dreading the answers he might find, he opened the flap and turned the envelope upside down, sliding the contents onto the coffee table.

  Three photographs lay before him. The first was of a young boy and his dog. His expression serious, the boy sat with his arm around the black Labrador, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His deep green eyes. Zach turned the photo over and read unfamiliar handwriting. Thomas and Maggie.

  In the second photo, a much younger Alistair stood with his arm around a boy of perhaps eleven or twelve years of age. Alistair conveyed the same air of cheerful pomposity that had annoyed Zach from their first encounter, but the young boy seemed unaware of the burden his father planned to impose upon him.

  Zach traced the boy’s grin with his finger. The boy was happy—and ornery. His green eyes sparked with a spirit that refused to be contained, a spirit powerful enough that it spoke to Zach through the picture. Alistair and Thomas was printed neatly on the back in the same handwriting.

  In the third photo, two young men embraced on the ice. Hockey stick in hand, a young man who appeared to be Zach—who, he forced himself to admit, appeared to be Thomas—embraced the goalie. Although he couldn’t see the goalie’s face through the mask, he felt the camaraderie between the two. In the background Alistair stood smiling. There was no handwriting on this picture.

  Photographs. Moments that felt oddly familiar although he was a stranger to the memories.

  Tossing the pictures onto the table, he leaned back against the couch, defeated. His father was Alistair Forrester. Not only did that make him the son of a maniac, it made him a liar. His need to connect with Lizzie overwhelmed him. Lifting his wife’s feet from the sofa, he scooted closer to her and rested her legs on his lap.

  Eventually exhaustion overtook him and he slept.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The fire crackled cheerily in the fireplace while outside a new snow began to fall, covering the earth’s imperfections, leaving the world peaceful and pristine. Inside the condo, everyone slept, but not everyone dreamed peaceful dreams.

  The bound man jerked into consciousness, cold water running down his face. A man in an ill-fitting military jacket leaned so close his captive smelled his rank breath. “So!” his heavily accented voice rang out, echoing in the small shack. “You thought you could betray us.” A second armed man stood near the window, peering through the closed blinds into the night. A submachine gun rested i
n his hands.

  The prisoner exhaled and worked the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. “I told you before you knocked me out.” He spoke slowly. “I’m just here to drop off the package.” He nodded toward the pouch that lay discarded on the floor. The ropes binding him were inexpertly tied and he was close to loosening them. If only he could keep the man talking for a few more minutes.

  “Maybe you didn’t, but Daddy sure did.” The gunman slammed the butt of his revolver into the bound man’s face, splitting the skin at his temple. Stunned, his head fell forward. He missed the hurried exchange between his captors as they moved into the shadowed corners of the room.

  The door flew open and a young man in civilian clothes burst in, gun drawn.

  The prisoner looked up and tried to clear the ringing in his ears, aware that something wet ran down his temple, making it hard for him to focus. The newcomer gave him a silent thumbs-up as he scanned the room and the prisoner smiled weakly, “Hey, bro. What took you…”

  His captors cursed in surprise and guns exploded in the small space. A bullet struck the prisoner in the arm, throwing him to the floor as the last of the ropes slipped free. The submachine gun riddled the man in the doorway with bullets.

  The man with the revolver kicked the prisoner in the ribs as he left. “Tell the old man we’re even.”

  For the first time since they captured him, the prisoner showed emotion. “Nooooooo!”

  “Zach, Zach, you’re okay!” Cool hands caressed his face; an angel called him back from the depths of hell.

  Zach struggled to awaken. There was so much blood; he was drowning in blood.

  Blood ran down his face, spilling onto the wounded man. It was too much blood, even for a head wound. In horror he realized it wasn’t his blood at all, but blood pouring from the fallen man that created the sea of red. Zach tore off his shirt, heedless of the pain in his injured arm, and tried to stanch the flow. But there was too much blood.