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

by Marlowe, Cathy

  Anger at himself rose as he considered how skillfully Cherise had trapped him. He’d intended to ply her with wine, foster an artificial bond, see if she might let information slip or better yet, confide in him. Instead, she’d drugged him and he hadn’t even realized it.

  Thank God for Emma. She’d seen past a plan to build a bigger wall between them and raced to his rescue, regardless of their differences. She knew him, which made it harder for him to accept that she didn’t fully trust him where Jacob was concerned.

  Hopefully, they’d soon figure out why someone, presumably Alistair, wanted them apart. Even better, this knowledge might lead them to the old man.

  He checked his watch. She’d been gone for over thirty minutes. Despite the plan they’d put in motion, he had trouble concentrating on the mission. He missed his woman.

  Dark thoughts crept in. She likely didn’t miss him at all as she focused every bit of her energy and emotion on Jacob.

  Snap! He hit himself with the rubber band again. Good thing she couldn’t see him, because she’d be upset he was still wearing it.

  Another minute passed, then another. A knock sounded at the door. He looked at his watch. Not bad. Cherise had only called fifteen minutes ago. He rose from the chair to let her in, sucking in a great breath of air before he opened the door.

  “Hello, Cherise.”

  “Cole, darling.” Cherise placed her palms on either side of his face and rose to kiss his cheeks, lingering, he was certain, so that he could smell her perfume.

  He discreetly held his breath and rested his hands at her waist. Her skin-tight, low cut, midnight blue shirt deepened the color of her eyes. Her skinny jeans showed every curve to advantage. A pale blue short coat with a mink collar completed her ensemble.

  A clunky, unattractive ring clashed with her otherwise sophisticated appearance. The same ring, he thought, that she’d worn when she’d visited his room in New York, and again when she’d visited him here.

  Leaving her hands on his face, she stepped back an infinitesimal amount, ensuring her breasts hovered near his chest and peeked around him. “Is Emma still here?” Tiny lines of tension marked the skin around her eyes.

  “No, she went out to do some shopping.” He smiled, taking a cautious breath. A hint of heavy floral remained, so faint her subtle perfume almost surpassed it. He winked. “Your timing is perfect. Come on in.”

  She dropped her hands and slipped past him, brushing her body against his. “I wish you’d let me bring you some food. I know the most spectacular sushi restaurant.”

  “I really don’t have much of an appetite, which is odd, because I’m almost always hungry.” Memories of Emma teasing him about his appetite engulfed him.

  “I could fix you a drink.” She ran her finger along his forearm, drawing his attention back to her.

  “That would be great. Thanks.” He watched as Cherise sauntered to the wet bar. With her back to him, she poured his scotch. He sank into the leather chair and crossed one leg lazily over the other. Amazing how even knowing she was playing him, he found her…enticing. The damned drugs were powerful. As Emma had noted, Cherise was not his type.

  When she returned, she frowned. “Why Cole, what happened to that beautiful table?”

  He grunted. “I broke it. I was angry at Emma and kind of, well, smashed the table. I had the hotel come and take it away.” He gestured toward the potted palm they’d moved from the corner of the room to the space next to Cole’s chair. “The hotel couldn’t replace the table immediately. Emma made me move this plant over here so”—he made air quotes—“‘the sitting area didn’t look so empty.’” Emma would have applauded his imitation of her being bossy.

  Cherise handed Cole his drink. Ignoring the sofa, she grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and pulled it so close her knees rested against his leg.

  Cole paused with the drink at his lips. “Why don’t you get yourself one, too?” He uncrossed his leg, shifting so they no longer touched, and started to rise. “Or I could get it for you.”

  “No, no, I’m happy to get my own drink. You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours.” She placed a manicured hand against his chest and shoved playfully, pushing him back before walking to the wet bar.

  While her back was turned, Cole poured part of his drink into the potted plant. Then he held the glass to his lips, cradled within cupped hands. When Cherise returned, she nodded approvingly, lifting her own glass in silent toast. He smiled over the rim of his and pretended to drink. One hand fell from the glass to reveal the liquor half gone.

  “My goodness, you needed that.” She rested one hand on his shoulder and caressed his muscles, her fingers lingering as they withdrew.

  “Ahh,” He pretended to savor the scotch. “I did need that.”

  She resumed her perch on the end of her chair, her knees once again touching his. “Cole, I’m sorry about Emma. I can understand her helping Jacob, no matter what. Even if she has to betray you. Even if it means putting those sweet children in danger.”

  Sweet children? He struggled to remember their conversation from the night before. Had he mentioned Sam and Daniel? The details of their early morning chat eluded him.

  She stroked his arm. “But I’m here for you, Cole. You can trust me. I would never betray you for Jacob.” Her hand slipped to his thigh, her voice continuing in a soothing cadence that, even though he hadn’t taken a drink, drew from him a false sense of betrayal. “I would never sleep with Grant. That pretty boy!” She wrinkled her nose.

  The door to the hotel room burst open, and Emma sailed in.

  “Cherise?” Emma dropped her bag to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

  “Now, Emma, dear, Cole and I are just talking.” Cherise rose and bent to bestow a kiss on Cole’s cheek, providing a generous view of cleavage. “You take care, Cole. I think it’s time for me to leave.”

  Emma opened the door with a flourish, tapping her foot impatiently. “Out.”

  Cherise’s smile widened. “Bye, bye.” She wiggled her fingers at Emma as she swept through the door. Emma slammed it behind her.

  …

  Ugh, she hated that woman. She threw the lock on the door and turned to find Cole had already brought the tracking device from the bedroom.

  He turned it on and the sounds of the street played clearly in the hotel room.

  “Good day, mademoiselle,” a man’s flirtatious voice called.

  Cherise said nothing. A moment later, however, her voice came through clearly. “It’s done. Yes, he drank it. Yes, things are bad between them.”

  For a moment, all they heard was the street.

  “Damn, we can’t hear the other side of the conversation.” Cole snapped the rubber band.

  Emma looked at him in surprise.

  “No.” Cherise sounded agitated. “I did what you asked. You promised this was the last time.” Anger and a shading of fear had crept into her voice. “Fine.” Her abrupt word appeared to end the conversation. “Damn it!”

  Emma almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  The sounds of Paris street life continued to blare from the speaker.

  She looked at Cole. “Now what?”

  “Now we wait for Joey to do his work.”

  He rose and began to pace. Back and forth across the room, his hand tapping impatiently at his side. At last, he stopped at the window.

  She crossed the room to grasp his hand, stilling his fingers. Raising them to her mouth, she kissed them. A strong arm wrapped her shoulders, holding her close. They stood quietly, taking in the sight of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, absorbing this rare moment of peace. When Cole pulled away, Emma quickly slipped the rubber band off his wrist.

  “Hey there,” he protested with a smile.

  She shoved the rubber band into her pocket and gathered her courage. “Cole?”

  He leaned toward her, so close she felt his breath brush her face, as intimate as a kiss.

  “What?”

  “Earlier, you…”<
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  Cole’s phone rang. His eyes never left hers as he fumbled for his phone. “Stevens.” He stiffened at whatever the caller had to say. “Okay, let us know.”

  He ended the call and dropped his phone back in his pocket. “Joey followed her to Charles de Gaulle. She just bought a ticket to New York.”

  Emma bit her bottom lip.

  Cole nodded. “We need to go home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Emma hurried to pack. The possibilities raised by Cherise’s destination whirled through her mind. Was she going to see Alistair? Did she know where Jacob was?

  Did it mean anything that her trip took her to Zach and Lizzie’s home state? Or was New York just a stop along her way?

  She shoved her few pieces of clothing into her apricot luggage, then hurried to scoop up her toiletries and dump them on the bed, quickly separating the items that had to go in a plastic bag for security screening. She sealed the baggie, threw everything into her luggage, and zipped it shut. Her hands stroked the soft leather as her mind raced.

  What if Cherise was simply running away and taking her desperately needed information with her? They should never have let her leave the hotel. They should have forced her to tell them what she knew. She turned to confront Cole.

  He stood behind her, appearing both handsome and sturdy in his brown canvas coat— both crazy attractive and comfortingly reliable. He grasped his duffle in one hand, his phone in the other as he scanned the contents of the screen. “Joey’s getting on Cherise’s flight. It leaves in twenty minutes so we’ll never make that one. He booked us on the noon flight.” He looked up at her. “We’ll just make it.”

  He walked into the bathroom as Emma’s concerns died on her lips. The sounds of him tossing his items in his bag served as mere background for the dervish of uncertainty that ran through her brain.

  Had she unwittingly allowed herself to be sucked into the search for Alistair and the need to protect the Westons? Although she’d thought today’s plan served both objectives—find Jacob and protect the Westons—what if she’d allowed the search for Jacob to come second?

  She slipped into her jacket and picked up her bag.

  Cole reentered the room. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Uh huh, she was ready. Ready to reprioritize and refocus on her brother.

  She slipped her hand into her pocket and curled her fingers around her Mace. No longer ready to share her concerns, she offered only a half nod. She needed to think.

  He reached for her small case, shifting it to the same hand that held his duffel. “I like a woman who travels light.”

  He planted a hard kiss on her lips, and they hurried out the room. It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d arrived to find him disheveled and on the edge of losing control. In reality, this visit to Paris had lasted less than twenty-four hours.

  Cole hailed a cab at the front of the hotel, and they scrambled into the back seat. “Charles de Gaulle, Air France. Our flight leaves in two hours.”

  “Oui, monsieur.” The cab accelerated smoothly into traffic.

  Cole wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “The next time we come to France, let’s try leaving at a leisurely pace.” He placed a kiss against her head.

  She fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. “Cole?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you come to France in the first place?”

  A horn honked behind them, and the cab swerved to claim a gap in traffic. Progress along the busy street was measured in inches at this hour.

  “We came across encrypted communication that appeared to be from Alistair. It indicated a drop in France.” More important than what he said, Emma heard the words he didn’t say. Jacob was somehow involved.

  The air in the cab became stifling. Emma felt the tension building in Cole. He was a smart man, and she was sure he’d noticed her withdrawal before they even left the hotel. It appeared neither of them wanted to expose what they were thinking.

  He exhaled on a sigh. “The drop was used by a man matching Jacob’s description.”

  She felt the distance grow between them, although neither actually moved. “A man matching Jacob’s description?” The words left her mouth with careful control. “You’re judging my brother because another man with brown hair and brown eyes was seen at the drop? How many brown-eyed, brown-haired men do you suppose there are in France?” She turned glittering eyes toward him.

  “He had an American accent.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal.

  “He had a scar.” He raised his hand to his own face and traced a line along his jaw, just below his ear.

  A scar like Jacob.

  She lifted her chin. “So you just assumed it was Jacob.”

  “I assumed it could be Jacob.” He reached for her hand and held it gently in his. Her fingers remained limp in his grasp. “Emma, I have to follow the leads exactly the way you did the other night with Grant. I have to assess to the possibilities.”

  When she failed to respond, he threw up his hands in frustration. “Dammit, Emma, I don’t want Jacob to be part of Alistair’s inner circle.”

  She turned to look at him with pain-filled eyes. “I know.” She brushed trembling fingertips along his jaw. “You don’t want to believe Jacob is involved with Alistair. But I will never believe he’s knowingly part of that treachery. You want my brother to be innocent, but I know my brother is innocent.” Her hand dropped to her lap. “There’s a difference.”

  There was nothing left to say. She was right, and he knew it.

  At the airport, they jogged past more leisurely travelers until they came to Air France. The line waiting for tickets and baggage check snaked along the maze of red velvet cords and extended down the aisle way.

  She felt unwelcome tears of frustration fill her eyes. Her silly, little daydream of a nice, quiet life seemed so foolish…so unachievable.

  Cole pulled his credit card from his pocket and led them to a kiosk. “Ah, the beauty of automated check in for the traveler with no luggage to check.”

  She attempted to smile at his humor, but a pained look crossed his face in response. Oh well, she felt like hell and had never been good at hiding her emotions.

  They boarded the plane with time to spare, settling into the spacious third row of first class.

  They sat in silence as the plane taxied down the runway. Once it began to climb, he tried again.

  “Emma…”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk right now.” She looked at him with tears shimmering in her eyes. “We have different goals. We believe different things. We are committed to different things.” His stubborn refusal to see they were at cross purposes angered her.

  “That’s not true.” He breathed a heavy sigh of frustration as the plane ascended above the clouds. “We both want justice. We both want to stop Alistair from harming the people we love. We both…”

  Emma waved her hand back and forth to stop him. “No, we’re different. I want the Westons to be safe. I want Alistair to be caught. We may both want to stop Alistair from harming the people we love, but you have Zach and all the resources of Weston Security working with you. But I am the only one completely committed to finding my brother and making sure he’s safe.” She looked out the window at the unending stretch of blue sky before returning her eyes to Cole. “No matter what.”

  No matter my feelings for you. She swallowed hard, unable to break eye contact.

  …

  Although she didn’t say the words, Cole heard her loud and clear. In the race for her loyalty, he finished a distant second.

  His I love you from earlier echoed in his head, mocking him. He felt like a fool.

  The trip back across the ocean passed slowly, the tension between them never fully abating, partly because Emma remained distant and partly because the damned drug continued to wreak havoc with his emotions. They disembarked without speaking. As soon as they cleared customs, he passed her the pepper spray, and they headed f
or ground transportation where a young man hailed them.

  “Kyle!” Cole stepped forward to exchange a brief hug and claps on the back with his friend. A couple of inches taller than Cole, Kyle’s broad shoulders and short, honey brown hair failed to hide the family resemblance. When the man flashed a smile, he looked just like Lizzie.

  Cole introduced him to Emma. Aside from a brief hello, Emma said nothing until Kyle opened the passenger door of his black jeep for Emma.

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll sit in the back.” Before either man could protest, she opened the door and climbed in.

  “A driver picked up Cherise and drove her to Grant’s old building,” Kyle said as he merged into traffic.

  Cole frowned. The penthouse. The place where, months before, Alistair had almost killed Cole and kidnapped Zach a second time. A buzz of adrenaline ran through him; he was closing in on the truth.

  He assimilated this new information with everything else he knew, but clarity eluded him. He worried the master plan would become clear too late.

  Kyle continued. “We’re running a check on the driver. He appears to be from one of the local limo companies. He dropped Cherise off at the building less than thirty minutes ago.”

  At Cole’s surprised glance, Lizzie’s brother grimaced. “The woman shopped Bergdorf Goodman before heading to the penthouse. We had to bring Becca in to help watch her—she’s part of our security team.” He tossed the information over his shoulder to Emma and blew out a heavy breath. “As near as we could tell, Cherise didn’t make contact with anyone. And we haven’t heard anything from the bug since she landed.”

  “So she might be aware we’re tailing her.” Cole’s mind flashed back through his encounters with Cherise—the chummy dinner with Jacob and Emma, the miserable morning after, her delighted surprise when they showed up at her apartment in Paris, the night she drugged him—again. All along, she’d held the key. He’d lay odds she’d contacted someone during her spending spree.

  Kyle shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. We’ve got all three exits from Grant’s building covered.”

  “Who lives in Grant’s old condo?” Cole shot a look at Emma as he asked the question.