Darkest Ecstasy (19 page)

“C
ongratulations.” That was Angela's less-than-enthusiastic greeting when Michelle dragged herself into work on Monday morning. Angela was holding a large box, a case of paper. She wasn't smiling, and her eyes were cold. “I hear you're getting married soon. Who's the lucky guy? Oh, that's right. I remember now. He was
my
fiancé.”

“Angela, I'm so sorry. I swear—”

“Save the lies for someone who might believe them. The fact is, you were the smarter player in our little game. You won the prize.”

Michelle didn't really consider Tage a prize to be won. Granted, he was great. But he wasn't a thing. A car. A house. A pile of cash. Those were things one would win in a game. Not a human being.

And she hadn't agreed to marry anyone yet. She would have liked to set the record straight on that one. But because she knew anything she said would be met with rolling eyes and scoffing, she merely shrugged and angled to pass through the door. She made it roughly halfway before Angela grabbed her arm. “It's not over until the vows are said, sweetheart.”

It was Monday morning, the start of a new week. The last thing she wanted was trouble. “I don't want to fight with you.”

“Then you shouldn't have stolen my fiancé,” Angela said through gritted teeth.

“I didn't steal anyone. He made a choice.” She threw her hands in the air. “Believe it or not, this wasn't what I wanted. I haven't even agreed to marry him.”

“You haven't.” Angela laughed. “What the hell is wrong—” She cut herself off. “Never mind. There's a way to make this right then, isn't there? You could tell him you won't marry him, and then he'll come back to me.”

She could do that. In fact, she had.

But now a part of her questioned whether that was the right thing to do, and it had nothing to do with what he could offer her—a nice home for her child, stability. Assuming he was the kind of man who would pay his child support, their child would have those things whether she married him or not. The issue was deeper than that.

“You don't care about him at all,” Michelle said, thinking aloud.

“Of course I do.” There was a dark gleam in Angela's eyes as she spoke. “I care for him.”

Like a shark cared about the fat little fish it was about to eat.

“Tell him you won't marry him,” Angela insisted.

“I'll think about it.”

Moving suddenly, Angela shoved her. She fell back and slammed into the wall. Dazed, she pushed forward, but Angela thrust her arms out, holding her in place. She angled close, too close. “You have no idea what shitstorm you've walked into. Be smart, Michelle. Do what I said. Tell him you won't marry him.”

“Back off.” Michelle rammed her arms out, but Angela didn't budge.

Angela glanced right, left. “I'm trying to warn you,” she whispered.

“Warn me about what?”

“I can't tell you. Let's just say Tage isn't all that he appears. Neither are his brothers.”

What was Angela talking about? What could she possibly know about him? Angela didn't know him any better than she did. At least, she'd made it out that way. “What do you mean?”

“I can't tell you anything else.” She inched closer and whispered, “I want to tell you but I can't. Please trust me, Michelle. Please.”

What the hell was this all about?

“What do you mean not what they appear? Are they criminals ?” Michelle muttered back.

Angela glanced around again, as if she was checking to see if anyone was listening. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“They're . . . terrorists. There. That's all I can say.”

Terrorists? Terrorists! What? It had to be a lie. It made no sense. “If that's true, then why are you so eager to marry him?”

“I'm not going to marry him. My cousin is in the CIA. He asked me to help out with his case.”

“What?” Michelle's stomach twisted.

Could it be true? Could Tage be a dangerous terrorist, wanted by the federal government? It was so far-fetched, it was hard to believe.

And yet, the sincerity in Angela's voice and expression couldn't be ignored. Whether it was true or not, Michelle was quickly becoming convinced that Angela believed it.

“Why haven't they been arrested, then?” Michelle asked as she tried to wrap her head around what Angela was telling her. “Doesn't the federal government arrest terrorists first and ask questions later?”

Angela took a step back, giving Michelle some much needed air. “In this case they're trying to collect some information before they're arrested.” She wrung her hands.

“I shouldn't be telling you any of this. If my cousin found out, he'd kill me. Whatever you do, you can't say a word to Tage about anything I've told you. He and his brothers will pack up and run off. They've done it before.”

“This is crazy.” That was an understatement, but Michelle couldn't think of a more descriptive word.

“Are you really pregnant with his kid?” Angela asked, her gaze flicking to her belly.

“I . . .” Michelle placed her hand there. Her heart twisted in her chest. The pain was agonizing. “I am.”

If what Angela said was true, the father of her child was dangerous. The CIA was investigating him. She had to assume that once they had whatever it was they were looking for, they would have him arrested.

Her baby would probably never know his father.

“I'm sorry,” Angela said, looking remorseful. “I really am. Maybe if you walk away now, you can find someone else? A decent man who will love the child like his own?” Her eyes lifted to the ceiling. “My stepbrother is a good guy. He's single. I should introduce you two.”

Michelle wasn't in the mood to meet a new guy. If what Angela said was true, Tage, if that was even his name, had just destroyed her life, like a bull crashing through a china shop. Everything was shattered, in pieces. Including her heart.

Her stomach lurched.

This was too much. Shoving past Angela, she raced for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom feeling woozy and weak. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and bury herself under the covers. She also wanted to check out of reality for a while.

She couldn't do either.

If she wasn't going to marry Tage, then she needed her job. And she needed to be on the top of her game so that if she got sick later, her boss would be a little more forgiving.

Shit, shit, shit.

It took this eye-opening conversation to make her see how much she'd come to expect Tage to provide for her, married or not. Whether what Angela had said was true or not, that was dangerous. The fact was, Michelle knew very little about Tage. Terrorist or not, she would be a fool to marry a man she didn't know.

But.

Standing outside the bathroom, she dropped her face into her hands.

But . . . if she didn't marry him, and he did disappear or end up in prison, how would she make it on her own? What if she became very ill while she was pregnant and couldn't work for an extended period of time?

Stop. Or you'll think yourself into being sick.

“Didn't you wonder how they had so much money?” Angela asked. She was
click-clacking
down the hall toward her. “I mean, I've never met a computer programmer who lived in a house like theirs.”

Michelle had to admit the house had been spectacular. So had the furnishings. And the finishings. Everything in it looked expensive.

Angela continued, “The place is like a fortress, too. There's the wall that circles the whole property, the locked gate, the security system, cameras everywhere. Who has cameras in their home?”

Cameras? There were cameras?

“Where?” Michelle asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

“In practically every room. Look for them. They're small, but they're visible.”

Cameras.

Locked gates.

The guy was a computer geek. Not a Hollywood celebrity. Who needed that kind of security?

Terrorists would.

Maybe drug kingpins, too.

Feeling heavy and nauseous, she dragged back to her desk.

There was a bouquet of flowers there. Huge. Had to be from Tage. Her insides twisted. She couldn't look at those right now. Because then she would think about him. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of thinking about him here.

She snatched the card off the little plastic clip inside the floral arrangement, then took the vase and headed back to the bathroom.

The pretty arrangement looked very nice in there, sitting on the counter. She left it and returned to her cubicle.

 

That evening, before Michelle left, Angela poked her head into Michelle's cubicle. “How are you feeling?” she asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned.

“I don't know. Numb, I guess.”

Angela adjusted the strap of her purse. “It's a lot to take in. I get it. It took a while for me to believe it, too.”

Michelle had spent all day thinking about what Angela had told her, the whole time trying not to think about it. She'd scoured the Internet, looking for anything she could find on Tage. Nothing came up. Not a single photo, reference, or Facebook page. As much as she didn't want to believe what she'd been told, she couldn't convince herself there wasn't a possibility of it being true. She wanted to know. She needed to know. If only Angela could tell her why the CIA thought he was a terrorist. “Are you sure what you said is true? Absolutely certain?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Michelle couldn't hold in the heavy sigh that pushed up her throat. “Can you tell me anything? Please?”

Once again, Angela took a long look around them. Then she stepped into Michelle's cubicle, squatted so she was at eye level with Michelle, and whispered very softly, “I saw proof. They have pictures.”

“Pictures of what?”

“Talen meeting with some known members of Al Qaeda.”

“Talen? Who's Talen?”

“That's Tage's real name. Talen. The CIA has been trying to capture him and his brothers for years.”

“And you're helping them? How?”

“I was working to gain his trust. I'm a spy.”

Now that part sounded far-fetched. Angela? A spy? She was an account manager for an advertising company. And she had absolutely no training or qualifications to be a spy. Surely the CIA could do better than her.

Michelle tried to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. They still didn't seem to be snapping in place. “All your talk about wanting to marry him was a lie?”

“Yeah, though I wish it hadn't been. Because I would love to marry a man like him.” Angela gave an exaggerated sigh. “He's sexy as hell. And who couldn't get used to that lifestyle? Did you check out the pool?”

“Pool?” Michelle echoed.

“They have an indoor pool. In their freaking house.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” Angela gave her a small smile. “You don't want to believe me, do you? You aren't going to break your engagement?”

Michelle stared down at her left hand. There was no ring on it yet. But she wanted one. She wanted one from him. But not if he was a wanted criminal.

Holy hell. What am I going to do?

“I'm not engaged to him.”

Angela set her hand on Michelle's shoulder. “I'm scared for you. I've got to go. See you tomorrow.”

After Angela left, Michelle whispered, “I'm scared for me, too.” Then she checked the time. It was after seven. Everyone else was gone, home with their children, their spouses. Would she ever have that? A real family?

With tears blurring her vision, she pressed her hand to her flat stomach. There was a child in her. One who deserved to have everything she herself had never had.

At least he'd have one parent. But would that be enough?

She shook herself out of her funk, powered down her computer, and grabbed her purse. There were so many things she needed to figure out. She didn't need to sit around here, in the dark, crying over stuff she couldn't control.

It was time to take her life in her hands again, stop with the silly romantic stuff. Whether Tage, or Talen, or whatever his name was, was a terrorist or not, he was not her Prince Charming. He was no one's Prince Charming.

She held her breath as she waited for the elevator.

He seemed to have her schedule down pat, having timed his departure so they would ride the elevator down together after they'd met that first time. Tonight she'd intentionally waited. She hoped he would be gone by now, on his way to his giant fortress of a house.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened.

Empty. The car was empty.

She breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't tried to catch her tonight. She would have some time to try to think things through.

Alone, Michelle
click-clacked
through the parking structure toward her car. The distant voices echoing off the concrete walls and screech of tires made her jumpy, like always. It was cool inside the structure, dark. A little chill buzzed up her spine.

As she rounded the corner, she saw a pair of young men walking toward her. Dressed in suits and ties, and carrying briefcases, they chatted with each other as they loped her way. Despite the fact that she didn't feel particularly threatened by them, she felt herself shifting her path to the right a little. They gave her an acknowledging nod and smile as they passed her and continued around the corner. She went to her car, unlocked the door, and dropped her purse on the passenger side seat.

Someone behind her grabbed her arm. She whirled around. Her eyes locked on a face. Something smashed over her mouth and nose.

What?

What was happening? Was someone trying to kill her?

Smell. So sweet. Nauseating. Cold. Ice-cold.