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

  “Well, yes, I… Are you trying to confuse me? Because I was just starting to be less confused.” He tamped down an unreasonable stirring of anger.

  “I wanted her to think I was jealous.” When he lifted his brow, she shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, it seemed like what she wanted, though I’m not sure why.”

  Cole gave her a look of approbation. Maybe she had a knack for this work after all. Another thought occurred to him. “It’s too bad you poured the drink down the drain…” He ran his hand along his whiskered chin, sighing. As a look of concern crossed her face, he again forced back negative thoughts. “You were great.” He searched her eyes and then clasped her hands in his. “I believe you, and I’m sorry.”

  She smiled a not very nice smile. “You’re damn right you believe me,” she said, pulling him toward the kitchen. “But you’re wrong about something else.”

  She reached into the cabinet and carefully pulled out a coffee mug, showing him the contents.

  Cole grinned. “She saved the scotch.”

  “Nice work, Emma.” Joey flashed her a thumbs up and reached into his bag once again, pulling out two vials. “What I don’t understand is how Cherise drugged you in the first place. I mean, it’s apparent that now you’re not quite yourself, and I could see her slipping something into your drink. But at first, when you were your normal, sharp self?” He shrugged apologetically. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Thoughtfully, he watched Emma retrieve the plates and place them on the bar then pick up the coffee carafe and pour the steaming brew into fresh mugs. Fairly certain of her response, he slipped onto a barstool and asked, “Do you remember Cherise ever wearing a heavy floral perfume?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Heavy floral perfume? No, never.”

  He nodded. “Me, either. Except I remember smelling it when she and I first met for drinks yesterday. And the smell…it reminded me of that night in New York as well.” He gauged her response, relieved when his comment elicited nothing more than curiosity. “I think the smell might have been a gas of some sort. Something to make me unaware of what she was doing so she could slip something more potent in my drink.” He turned to Joey. “What do you think?”

  The other man tipped his head thoughtfully. “If it was some sort of gas, why did it only affect you and not her or the other people around you in the bar that first night as well?”

  “Well she…” Cole stopped, forcing himself to think hard. Something flitted along the edges of his memory and began to connect with yesterday’s greeting. “I think…I think she was wearing some sort of ring. It was…it was big, almost ugly…” He shook his head. “I remember thinking it wasn’t her style.” He concentrated again. “She put her hands on my face and kissed me on both cheeks. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because she was…pretending to be French.” He grimaced. “Or something.” He glanced from Emma to Joey. “Do you think the gas might have been in the ring?”

  “I think it’s possible,” Joey concurred.

  Cole took another long drink of coffee. Delicious. Emma smiled at him.

  Pain shot through his head along with the suspicion he was being played.

  “Cole, what’s wrong?” She reached over and steadied his emotions with her touch. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the reassuring feel of her hand rubbing little circles against the fabric of his jeans just above his knee. Ah, the woman was damn good.

  If only he didn’t have to keep fighting this unreasonable anger at her. “Nothing, really, my head hurts.”

  The nice soothing hand lifted, and she flicked his leg instead.

  “Oww.” He exaggerated the impact of the little flick. He opened his eyes.

  “What was that for?”

  “Liar.” She stared at him, hard.

  Joey carefully poured part of the contents from the coffee mug into a vial. He poured the remainder of the liquid into a second vial. Once both containers were sealed, he looked at Cole. “I’m with Emma on this. You’re lying. Something’s wrong.”

  Cole looked back and forth between two sets of concerned eyes. “Fine. My head hurts, my stomach hurts.” He glared at Emma. Some of this had to be her fault. “You made me throw up. I hate to throw up.”

  He fell silent. Emma and Joey waited.

  Running his hand along his jaw, he sighed. “I keep having unpleasant, hell, downright mean, thoughts about you.” He stared at Emma and waited for her to explode.

  She merely nodded.

  He raised his brows.

  “What?” She flicked his knee again. “You think I can’t see that at least once every five minutes you’d like to ring my neck. It’s written all over your face.”

  Joey nodded. “It’s true.”

  Color drained from Cole’s face. “I would never hurt you. Never.”

  She soothed him again with gentle touches. “I know that, and I’m not afraid of you. I just mean it’s obvious you’re torn between not liking me and…” She cast an uncomfortable glance at Joey.

  “Shit.” Cole dropped his head. Was every thought written on his face? He who was normally stoic, hard to read?

  He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed that it was obvious he harbored negative thoughts about her or that when he wasn’t pissed at her, he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to bed.

  Instead, he sat quietly, lost in thought with them, until Emma snorted. Both men stared at her.

  She shrugged. “It was kind of funny.” She giggled, then lowered her voice in imitation of Cole. “Damned table.” Her humor faded. “Now what?”

  “Now I’m heading out to get this sample to a lab we use here in Paris. Next, I’m mailing this sample back to the States. Then, I’m heading back to the lab for results. And no news yet on the USB Emma and Grant procured.” Joey extended his hand and clapped Cole on the shoulder. “Hang in there. We’ll get this sorted out.” He grabbed his pain au raisin and headed for the door. “I’ll call with results. Otherwise, get more sleep. You look like hell.”

  Emma followed Joey, lifting on tiptoe to give him a hug. He squeezed her in return and whispered something in her ear.

  Cole clenched his fist. They were keeping secrets from him.

  …

  Emma shut the door behind Joey and returned to Cole.

  “We need to clean this up.” He stared at the mess on the floor.

  “Joey is going to send housekeeping up.” When Cole said nothing, she sipped her coffee, considering the best approach. He’d had a rough couple of days. “Drink.”

  He looked up, and she patted his shoulder. “Drink the coffee. You’ll feel better.”

  A knock on the door signaled the arrival of housekeeping. They watched in silence as the two women cleaned. After handing them each a sizable tip, she again locked the door.

  She slipped onto the stool next to Cole and selected a delectable-looking apple pastry. Cupping the mug in his hands, he sipped the strong coffee. A deep sigh accompanied his drink. He finished the pain au chocolate in five bites.

  Thank God. If his appetite was normal then he was headed in the right direction.

  He wiped his hand on his napkin, and then captured one of hers. “This is what…our fourth date?”

  She wrinkled her brow.

  “You know picnic on the boat, fish dinner at the café, a bite to eat on the way to the airport, Thanksgiving.” He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “Does Thanksgiving count?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Oh, and the meal on our first night in the hotel, although, I guess we didn’t actually eat at the same time, and now pastries and sandwiches.”

  “Seven special meals, one race for our lives, a couple of fights, make up sex.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Not a bad courtship for a week.”

  The bite of pastry in her mouth felt suddenly dry. Where was this monologue headed?

  “What I’m trying to say is this: I haven’t known you very long, but Emma Bailey, I…” h
e set his coffee cup down. He ran his hand along the rough whiskers of his jaw. “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to say this. Hell, I’m hung over and drugged, and I keep having little flashes of being angry with you for no reasonable reason.”

  Her eyes widened. She forced her food down with a drink of coffee.

  “The thing is…you’re the one.” He smiled, apparently satisfied with his announcement.

  She, however, was less thrilled. Especially when he glared at her continued silence. Glared!

  “I’m the one?” she queried.

  He nodded.

  “The one what? The one who makes you crazy?”

  He nodded again.

  “The one who’s too impulsive?”

  Another nod.

  “The one…”

  Emma’s words stopped short as Cole lunged from his seat to place a fierce kiss on her lips. His lips lingered, tasting of chocolate and coffee and very faintly of mint toothpaste. The kiss softened, and his tongue teased the seam of her lips, begging entrance. Her arms began a slow journey toward his neck, testing muscles along the way. Shivers of delight shot through her when his tongue slipped inside to dance with hers.

  He pulled back, leaving a chill where before there’d been warmth.

  “Cole?”

  At the sound of her soft question, his blue eyes darkened. “You’re the one I want to be with. The one I love.”

  She stared, dumbfounded. He loved her? She swallowed. Could she trust his words? After all, the man was still fighting the effects of God knew what combination of drugs and alcohol.

  He nodded. “Please remember this over the next hours and maybe even days, because, that drug has turned me into a damned boomerang—one minute I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and the next, I expect you to stab me in the back.”

  He plopped back on his stool, took another drink of coffee and a huge bite of chicken sandwich. All the while, his eyes never left her. He didn’t seem to expect a response, so she shoved a bite of apple pastry in her mouth and chewed.

  …

  Early the next morning, Cole awoke before Emma and lay there, listening to the sound of her breathing. In this moment at least, she felt good—right—lying next to him.

  It had taken three cups of coffee, a late night stroll through the city, and then four more hours of sleep, but at last, his head was clear. No more roller coaster emotions or bursts of inanity—or insanity. Unfortunately, clarity failed to erase the sporadic, less than charitable thoughts about this woman to whom he’d recently declared his love.

  The woman who’d had nothing to say in return.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Cole?”

  He looked up from his coffee to see Emma emerge from the bedroom, fresh from the shower. With her damp hair pulled back from her face and wearing only a hint of makeup, she was beautiful. Her clear brown eyes shone with intelligence, the wisps of silky, brown hair that had begun to dry caught the early morning light, reflecting shimmers of gold. In her blue jeans and a deep purple turtleneck, she exuded an enticing combination of girl next door and sexy as hell.

  She was the one.

  A flicker of doubt danced around the edges of his certainty. If she could be trusted.

  “Cole.” Her question transformed into a command, rudely interrupting his internal debate. “You keep having…” She paused, tapping her bare foot impatiently on the floor, reluctant to continue. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to say anything, she spit out her thought. “You keep having negative thoughts about me, don’t you?”

  Damn, he’d been trying to hide the occasional spurts of anger and frustration he felt toward her. Emotionally, he felt so justified in his feelings, but intellectually, he knew Cherise had messed with his mind. Sighing, he rose from his chair to run his finger along the side of her face before letting his hand drop.

  “I’m sorry.” Even as the words escaped his mouth, he knew they were insufficient.

  She rummaged through her purse. “Ah ha.” Grabbing his arm, she slipped a green rubber band over his hand and settled it on his wrist. “Here. This should help. A perfect fit.”

  He looked at her and raised his brow. “Uh, thanks for the pretty bracelet?”

  She punched him lightly on the arm. “Come on, Cole. This is negative reinforcement for when those mean, completely unearned thoughts about me haunt you.” She grabbed the rubber band and pulled it away from his wrist, letting it go with a snap.

  “Ouch!” He rubbed the offended skin. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused.

  She laughed sadly. “Not really. Actually, I was picturing Cherise’s head when I snapped the band, which probably wasn’t fair. Forgive me?”

  “Humph. Only if you kiss it and make it better.” He offered his hand to her.

  She offered her mysterious smile and raised his wrist to her mouth. Brushing the rubber band aside, she placed a soft kiss on the red mark. Her tongue peeked out to soothe the offended skin.

  He jerked. She tucked her finger inside the rubber band and twisted, pulling him with her toward the bedroom.

  “Uh, Emma.” Somehow it didn’t seem right to make love with her again while still harboring these negative thoughts.

  “Yes, Cole?” She batted her eyelashes.

  The woman was hard to resist. Impossible really. And if she could overlook his fleeting rude thoughts about her, well, who really benefitted if he took the high road? In fact, it was selfish of him to hold back. Wasn’t it? He shook his head to clear it. Used to processing information quickly, this laborious, mental back and forth gave him a monster headache.

  “No?” A wrinkle marred Emma’s lovely brow. She let go of the rubber band.

  “No?” He repeated her question, confused.

  “You shook your head.” She peered at him, waiting.

  Great, she was using speech for the slow witted again. He thought he saw a spark of amusement in her eyes.

  “No.” He clarified.

  “No?” A laugh escaped her lips. “Is this like the ‘what’ debacle from our night on James Island, when every time I opened my mouth you and the fates conspired to keep me confused?”

  He grinned. He stepped close to her, invading her personal space. “Yes,” he whispered a fraction of an inch from her lips.

  His phone rang. Damn.

  He brushed a quick kiss across her lips and checked his phone.

  “It’s Joey.” Reluctantly, he answered the call. He captured Emma’s hand with his free one as he listened. “Uh huh. Okay. I’ll tell her.” He ended the call. He considered the implications, relieved that on this topic at least, his brain appeared to be functioning just fine.

  “What did he say?”

  Cole looked down into Emma’s concerned face.

  “The liquid Cherise poured into the scotch is a highly complex, very powerful drug that aids in hypnosis.” Although they’d suspected this, he exhaled with a sense of relief that there was a substantiated explanation for his uncharacteristic behavior.

  “How did they identify the drug so quickly?”

  Adrenaline shot through him. Her question took them to the heart of the puzzle.

  “The drug is similar to one invented by Grant’s father. A powerful drug Alistair sold at great profit.” He spoke with precision, emphasizing each word as he reveled in the sense of satisfaction that comes when the pieces finally fall into place. “It’s not an exact match, but the differences could be the result of a next generation version.”

  Emma bit the inside of her lip. “So Cherise was programming you to find fault with me.”

  He nodded. “And setting herself up as the sympathetic listener I could confide in.”

  “Using Alistair’s drug.”

  Their eyes locked. They finally had a clear and current link to Alistair.

  …

  Cole spent the next half hour on the phone with Zach and Joey.

  Emma stood at the window in the hotel bedroom, her attention drifti
ng to the bustling street below. What trials and tribulations were those people experiencing? She didn’t mean to be all poor me, but she was pretty sure none of them were facing the kind of danger she and Cole faced. Feared the kind of pain that accompanied difficult choices.

  It seemed obvious to her that the link between Cherise and Alistair belied the link Cherise had implied existed between Alistair and Jacob. Unfortunately, Cole didn’t share her certainty.

  She couldn’t escape the fear that somehow Jacob would rip her and Cole apart. Because nothing, nothing would tear her from her brother.

  Emma shook her head. Better to focus on the present. In the present, the man she was crazy about had said he loved her while kind of under the influence of alcohol and drugs.

  He hadn’t repeated the words.

  She looked out the bedroom door to where Cole sat, engrossed in conversation. He practically hummed with intensity as he plotted with Zach and his men to bring Alistair down.

  It bothered Emma to see the red marks on his wrist, indicating how often unpleasant thoughts of her went through his mind. She’d tried to take it off him, tried to explain it was a joke, but he wouldn’t let her remove it.

  As she watched, he pulled the rubber band taut and let it fly against his skin.

  When he hung up the phone, Emma joined him. He mapped out the plan, and five minutes later, annoyed with Cole for still wearing the damned rubber band, she gathered her bag and coat and headed out to do her part. As she grasped the knob, his hand caressed her waist, pulling her back. She flung her arms around his neck and whispered against his lips, “Take the band off before I get back. Please.”

  “Be careful.” He stepped back, clearly reluctant to let her go, and opened the door, revealing Joey in the hall. Joey reached past Emma to hand Cole a bag.

  There’d be time for kissing later. Right now, they all had work to do.

  …

  Cole disconnected his call and toyed with the band on his wrist. Occasionally, he popped it just because of all the unfair things he’d thought and said since his all night drinking session with Cherise. Emma had tried to get the band off his wrist earlier, but he’d insisted on wearing it despite her protests.