Promises in the Dark

by Stephanie Tyler

  And while she wondered, Zane turned back and began to speak, his words surprising her and finally snapping her out of her anger.

  “You keep pushing me away, Liv. And if that’s what you want, I’m out when we get you to safety,” he told her.

  She knew, despite everything, that’s not what she wanted at all. And even though the fear gripped her like a tight vise, she forced herself to catch up with him.

  “It’s not what I want—to push you away. I just … maybe when we get home, you’ll realize that it’s all too much. That I’m too damaged, and so I wanted to push you away first, before you had the chance to do it to me.”

  She took a deep breath and waited, because he hadn’t looked at her once while she’d talked, had kept his stare straight ahead.

  The only movement she’d noted was a small tic working in his jaw.

  “Maybe you’ll get home, heal and then realize I’m too much of a reminder of your bad memories,” he told her. “Maybe I’m just as goddamned scared of losing you, Liv. But it’s a chance I was willing to take.”

  “Was willing?”

  Finally, he looked at her. “Let’s just get the kids out of here like we promised.”

  It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but she certainly deserved it.

  This time, she got in front of him, stopped him from going farther, unless he wanted to go through her. “Back in the tent, you said that you were trying to forget your past. What’s that about?”

  He stared at the ground, his shoulders slumped forward for just a second before his bearing was back, straight and tall, and he was looking her in the eye, telling her, “I was born in this country—near here, actually. My parents were missionaries,” he started, and her stomach dropped as the pieces began to weave together. “They were killed when I was nine.”

  She started, a small gasp caught in the back of her throat and she knew there was so much more to the story. Zane’s words echoed in her mind and for a second Olivia was actually dizzy at the possibility that he’d been hurt as a child, as she had been.

  From the pain in his words, she knew he had been. How had she missed it?

  Because you were too busy being selfish, wallowing in your own pain. She didn’t want anyone else’s pain, not when hers was so heavy, not when she could wear it like an excuse to shut out the world and try to forget it all. “Zane, I’m—”

  He ignored her, continued talking over her—like if he stopped, the story would never come out. “I was stolen. Then sold. I escaped, though.” The pain in his voice sliced through her more effectively than any scalpel could.

  “Zane, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do.” The command was back in his voice, and she started.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve never told anyone outside of my family,” he said. “But if this shows you that I understand, then I’ll do it. Because you mean that goddamned much to me.”

  She pressed her hands together hard, her jaw aching from keeping her teeth clenched so she wouldn’t tell him to forget it, that she’d stopped bargaining for anything, including her life, six months earlier.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she listened, as if her life depended on it, all the while trying to forget that it actually did.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Zane couldn’t believe he was actually going to tell her about his early years—his past, the secret he’d buried as deeply as he could inside of him. Olivia had pushed him earlier and he hadn’t done it, but now … now, dammit, she made him angry. Like he didn’t understand shit.

  But he did understand. “My parents were killed in a camp similar to this one when I was nine so I could be kidnapped, taken away and sold.”

  He wanted to screw his eyes shut and not talk about this any longer, didn’t want to go into the detail that he’d fought most of his life to keep out of his psyche. All the partying and the danger and the adrenaline rushes kept the memories at bay. Letting them out could prove to be just as dangerous as DMH, and far more damaging. “I was at the new place less than twenty-four hours before I escaped. Nothing happened to me. My dad had taught me how to fight and I fought like hell to get away.”

  “Who bought you?”

  This time he did close his eyes, tried to see who, but it was a blur. “I don’t know. Could’ve been a nice family. Could’ve been a hellhole. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out, and I’m grateful for that.”

  “You were just a baby.”

  He opened his eyes then. “Yeah, I was.”

  “Who would do that to a child.” She shook her head and he knew she was thinking about Julia’s children now as well.

  “Children are a hot commodity in a lot of countries for many different reasons.” God, he hated talking about this. Hated it.

  “What happened after you escaped?”

  What happened? Nothing … and everything. Even now, it was blurry, only coming into view in dreams occasionally, much less frequently than when he was young. He’d forced most of it out of his head so he wouldn’t focus on it.

  But his ability to focus was a huge part of his success in life. When he was on a mission, it was fierce. Unrelenting.

  Recently, it had given him relief from the unrelenting thoughts of Olivia, which ran on a continuous loop … of how he needed to find her. Needed to try to reconcile the fact that Liv might never be found.

  At least that’s what Dylan kept telling him, and Zane would say that he understood. Dylan was more of a realist, had learned to cut his losses in his current line of work as a private contractor. But in Zane’s mind, he would never accept she was dead, not until he saw a body. In his world, no man was left behind. And he wasn’t simply referring to the military world.

  Now he let himself think about those days on the street, when he was ten, eleven, surviving off other people’s garbage, fighting for his life and living among a small gang of boys. “I lived on the street for a couple of years. Fended for myself. Barely trusted anyone. And then I was caught again. Sold again.”

  He’d been cleaned up, drugged and put on sale—all because he was blond and blue-eyed and fit the model of what so many people wanted in a child. American.

  He’d been a hot commodity. And too drugged to give a shit. Figured it was the end of the road. Figured he’d escape the first chance he got. After all, he’d done so before.

  “My parents, the ones who adopted me—they bought me.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “It’s not what you think. They hadn’t been looking to buy a child. But they were in the Sudan on a dig and they were approached about it. And they were horrified. So they paid for me, were going to turn me over to the police, but they said when they saw me …”

  “They couldn’t,” she finished.

  “Right.” He blinked hard a few times. “I wish I’d been as trusting. I wanted nothing to do with them. With any adult.”

  “What made you finally trust them?”

  He shrugged. “Little things. They stayed in the Sudan for months, longer than planned, trying to get me a passport. Since it hadn’t been a legal adoption, they had to find someone who’d fix that. Refused to have me put into any kind of foster care while they were checked out. They got more trouble from me than they bargained for.”

  “I have a feeling they didn’t mind.”

  “Probably not. They wanted me to never have to think about that time in my life again. And for a really long time, I tried. Never wanted to think about where I came from, the kids I left behind. Gave back by serving my country. But D told me not to get involved … that it would feel way too personal and that could never be a good thing when you’re talking life or death.” He paused, nearly out of breath, thanks to the way the words poured out—fast and from the heart.

  “And then I came along,” she said softly.

  “Yeah. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was OUTCONUS for a month, and when I got back Dylan told me they’d lost the lead on you. That y
ou’d disappeared.”

  She had, in a sense. Everything that had happened before the kidnapping—her old life—was forever gone. Some days she was sad and angry about that, but she threw herself into her newfound role with all the bravado she could muster.

  Most days, it was enough. But there were times when the guilt of escaping the first kidnapping was almost overwhelming.

  “My parents—I can’t even let myself think about who they outbid. And what kid took my place.”

  “You’ve spent your life thinking about the ones who didn’t make it out of there,” she said softly, and Zane nodded. “I do too.”

  “Yeah, I know you do. I get it, Liv, I really do. It’s just … shit, staying here …” He trailed off then. Because the time for talking was over. Instead, he pulled her close.

  Because he needed. There was no way around it—he needed.

  “Zane.” His name, whispered, screamed—it didn’t matter. It was on her lips, in her mind, branded to her soul. “I won’t leave you behind. I wouldn’t have before you told me, and now … never.”

  I won’t leave you behind.

  It had held true for both of them. They both understood that, they both knew it was the only way to survive. And the bond between them grew immeasurably in a matter of seconds, one that he was pretty sure couldn’t be broken.

  “Your parents—your biological ones—no one ever looked for other family members?”

  “I guess not—at least not at the time. I couldn’t even remember much about life with my birth parents, never mind extended family—it’s all bits and pieces. The shrinks I saw said that’s my mind protecting me from details that could hurt me—both the good stuff and the bad. I mean, I know they were killed. But to be sure, I checked—or rather, my adoptive parents did. They made sure.” His throat tightened as he remember Ann Scott’s face when she came into his room and told him for sure they were gone. “And I was so angry and sad … but mostly I was relieved that I got to be angry and sad. Because if I’d found out they were alive, I would’ve wondered why hadn’t they found me. Had they even looked? Because if it was my kid, I’d go to the ends of the earth for him.” He paused, glanced at her. “I was twelve. I wasn’t rational.”

  “I think you were. Then—and now.” She leaned down and kissed him. It was meant to be gentle, comforting, but it went to wild and out of control in seconds, when he pulled her tight to him. His tongue played with hers, and they kissed until they were out of breath. Her hands twisted in his hair like she didn’t want to let him go, that fierce hunger rising between them.

  He pulled away from her. “I can’t leave them behind. Can’t. Won’t. You either. Do you understand, Liv? I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  “I get it, Zane.” She’d kept her fingers threaded through his hair, pulled his face to hers so their foreheads touched. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you at all.”

  “Why?”

  “You have enough burdens. You don’t need mine.”

  “You didn’t need mine either, but you took them anyway.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. All he wanted to do was lay her down on the ground. Strip her clothing off slowly. Lick. Taste. Spread her and take her until she screamed. Bite the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck and brand her as his own.

  And she seemed willing. So much so that she looked like she ached for him—and right now that was more than enough incentive for him to forget everything else going on around them and lose himself in her.

  Halfway back to Doc J’s, the sky opened up. Tristan swerved the car off the road because there was no fucking way they were getting through until the deluge stopped. It wasn’t safe or smart—not that anything he’d done over the past twenty-four hours had been either of those things.

  He didn’t want to be trapped with Rowan, but there was no getting around it, unless he wanted to swim back to the clinic. Which honestly, wasn’t a bad idea.

  He turned the car off and opened the back windows a little, even though the rain would come in. It would get way too hot in there otherwise.

  He’d been furious from the time he’d ushered her into the car and she damned well knew it.

  Finally, she spoke. “Tristan, I didn’t mean—”

  “To ask the locals about me?” He paused. “I’ve known you two days. I’ve known people for years and never told them shit about my life. Because I didn’t want to, because it was none of their business. Because I didn’t want them to look at me any differently. But hell, they always looked at me differently.”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  “You already do.”

  “Maybe that has nothing to do with what you’ve done in your past,” she said quietly, and for a second his heart almost stopped at the power of those words, because maybe she was telling the truth. “Tristan, you were in the military. I know that you had to do things.”

  “You mean kill, right? Yeah, I did—before the military and after. I’m no saint, Rowan, and Jesus and Doc J and all the missionaries in Africa aren’t ever going to heal my soul and get me into heaven. I know that and I don’t care—I’m not looking for redemption from them.”

  Or from you. But he didn’t say the words out loud—couldn’t—and so he cursed loudly and slammed his fist on the steering wheel, stared straight ahead as the rain sheeted the windshield.

  Doc J hadn’t missed a damned trick, had asked him that morning, “What’s going on between you two?” and then held up a hand. “Forget it. I’m not your mother.”

  “Thank God for that, because you’d make an ugly mother,” Tristan had shot back, and Doc J’s face had broken into the first smile Tristan had seen all day.

  Yeah, Tristan had it bad, and Doc J knew it; he had it bad enough to know that spending tonight alone wasn’t going to happen. So he might actually have to put some work into this … whatever it was.

  Because this woman made him want to beat his chest. Bay at the moon.

  This woman made him want to spend the night, wake up in the morning and do it all again.

  A capable woman was the biggest turn-on. And, as he’d just discovered, his greatest downfall, because he’d stopped thinking about anything else but her. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t care.

  All he’d done on the drive back from Freetown was think about her. Worry what would happen to her when the soldiers came to shake the clinic down. Women didn’t fare well in this place, and she was too stubborn to recognize that arguing and protesting wouldn’t do any good.

  Even though he knew she’d be safer leaving, he didn’t want her to. Planned to convince her not to by going into her tent again and taking her, hard and fast and then more slowly. When he regained some of his composure, he’d tell her she couldn’t leave. Lay it on the line.

  He just hadn’t been planning on revealing any of that right now. But things happened faster here—everything was more intense than it normally would be, and that included bonds. And secrets, they seemed easier to share in this place, typically because you never thought you’d see the person again.

  Or you didn’t have to share them because they wouldn’t be around long enough to matter. But Rowan, despite her earlier meltdown, she would stay. He could feel it, the way he always knew rain was coming, days before it actually did.

  “You don’t scare me. Not in the way you’re thinking,” she said after a few more minutes of silence.

  “Yeah?” He turned in the seat so he faced her. “You should be scared, Rowan. Because I want to do things to you that I’m sure you’ve never done. Never even thought about doing. I want to take you in ways you can’t begin to imagine … in ways I know you’ve never been taken.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed.

  He got close enough to put his lips on her neck, to feel the hammer of her pulse against them. “You let me take you last night—will you let me again, right here?” His fingers brushed her breast, her nipple already stiff. Her breath c
ame in quick gasps and she nodded as the car shook, thanks to the wind.

  He had her trapped against the seat. And could tell she liked it.

  Dammit, the woman had no sense at all, didn’t scare easily.

  Made him as hard as a rock. In a second, he could’ve had the seat reclined, his body covering hers, her hot sex bared to him, with his cock buried inside of her; the car would shake harder than it was from the elements, and he wouldn’t even have begun to be sated.

  She was so goddamned willing to let it happen. Was actually letting her hand wander between their bodies in order to get to the zipper on his cargoes.

  Let her, his dick insisted.

  Instead, he pulled back, told her sharply, “We can’t do this. You should just go home. Find a nice investment banker—”

  Her breath caught hard, and shit. Shit. Her husband …

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Dan was an investment banker. I never felt like I fit in my family. I always went for jobs that had me working with my hands and my brain at the same time,” she explained. “Dan understood that. Accepted it. Marrying him made me happy, and it made my family happy, so it worked out well.”

  “You did it to make your family happy?” The anger crept into his question before he could stop it.

  “I could never have married someone I didn’t love. I don’t have it in me to fake it.”

  There was definitely nothing fake about Rowan. He was sure of it. But then he’d thought Janie had been on the up and up.

  She was a seventeen-year-old girl, asshole. And he’d been a surprisingly naive seventeen-year-old gang member who should’ve been smarter and steered clear of her neighborhood.

  “You don’t belong here. You should go home before you get hurt,” he said.

  He was daring her to stay, daring her to deal with him—and really, he wanted her to fail, because he was scared.

  He might be more scared than she was. Tristan knew he was so far from measuring up to anything she’d had that he shouldn’t even bother trying.