Darkest Ecstasy (20 page)

She tried to claw the hand away from her face. But her arms felt so heavy, her fingers numb.

Please help.

Oh God.

Someone.

Please...

Don't breathe. Don't. No. Can't. It's poison.

Oh God.

She needed a breath. Darkness was falling over her, like a heavy blanket, cutting out the light. Instinct was kicking in. Survive. Breathe. One breath. One tiny breath was all she needed. She fought. She kicked.

She inhaled.

Sinking. She was sinking into the darkness.

 

Confused.

Lying down.

Lying down?

Ohmygod!

Her eyes snapped open.

She was in a room that kind of looked like a hospital. In a bed that looked similar to a hospital bed. She tried to sit up.

Tied down?

Why? What the hell was going on?

The door. Something clicked. It swung open and a man in a suit strolled in. Not a doctor. Not a nurse.

“What happened? Where am I?” she asked, not waiting for him to speak.

“Hello, Miss Linsey. I'm Special Agent Ross. CIA.”

“CIA?” She was even more confused. What would the CIA want with her? And since when did they resort to kidnapping innocent civilians? “What's going on? Why am I tied down?”

Ohmygod, did this have to do with Tage?

He strolled closer, and her body tensed. What would he do? Would he hit her? Threaten her? Moving slowly, he reached for her wrists. “We can get rid of those.” He unfastened the restraints. “Better?”

“A little. I'm still confused. Where am I?”

“You're in a safe place. No one is going to hurt you. I apologize for having you brought here in such an . . . unpleasant manner. But sometimes we have to do things quickly.”

So she had been kidnapped. By the CIA. The government. Oh God. “Why?”

“We're trying to protect you. Your family. Your friends. The entire country.”

“Protect me? From what?” She checked her wrists. Red rings circled them both. The restraints had been tight. The heat of rage sparked inside her. “I can't believe this. I was thrown into a van and taken against my will. By the CIA.” A thought flashed in her head. “Ohmygod. My baby.”

The agent's brows shot up. “Baby?”

“What did you use? What was that stuff those men made me inhale?”

“I will inform the doctor of your condition as soon as we are finished talking.”

She didn't want to talk. She wanted to get the hell out of there and go home. She clamped her lips and folded her arms over her chest. Her eyes were burning, dammit. Why would they do this to someone?

What could she do? What the hell could she do? If the CIA had the power to yank innocent citizens off the street and lock them up, then they could do anything. They could make her disappear forever.

“The doctor will check you thoroughly before you're released,” he assured her, as if his words would make up for the horror she'd just been put through. “Again, I apologize for this situation.”

His apology meant nothing to her. He wasn't sorry.

“We need your help,” he said.

“Me.” She scoffed. That was funny.

“You're in a position to assist your country. If you decide to help us, you would be a hero. You would be potentially saving lives.”

She felt herself scowling.

“You're skeptical,” he said.

“After being kidnapped? Wouldn't you be?”

Agent Ross pulled a small remote from his pocket and hit a button. A screen descended from the ceiling and within seconds she was gazing at an image of Tage. “We believe this is the man you know as Tage Garner.”

She didn't respond.

He continued. “His aliases include Trevin Gambrell, Tage Garner, and Talen Gryffon. He and his brothers have been connected to a string of terrorist attacks in several countries.” A click of the remote, and she was viewing photos of the two brothers she'd only recently met.

She had no words. Her stomach had a response, however. It wasn't a pleasant one.

“Our agency has chased these men over three states in the last year. We know that they are hiding a weapon that has the potential to kill millions of people.” His gaze turned to her. “Miss Linsey, I cannot emphasize how important it is to locate this weapon and disarm it.”

Oh God, what Angela said was true. Tage was a terrorist. And he'd dragged her into this . . . horrific nightmare. “I don't know what you expect from me. I don't know anything about a weapon. I don't know Tage that well.”

“You may not know anything about it now, but we know you are about to marry Talen Gryffon. Once you are living on their compound, you will have access to the entire building. You can search in places nobody else can.”

“Are you saying the weapon is in their house? That's ridiculous.”

“It's on their property.”

That made no sense. If the supposed weapon was so dangerous it could kill millions, would anyone hide it in their home? Would they risk their families' safety? The lives of their children and wives?

What the hell was she to think? To believe?

Her head was spinning, her doubts whipping around in her skull, colliding with her fears. “Say what you tell me is true, which I doubt, I wouldn't know where to start to search,” she said. She didn't want to be a part of this. She just wanted to go home and live her life and forget she'd ever met Tage and his brothers. She wasn't a spy. She was the world's worst liar. She wasn't good at being sneaky or secretive. “Plus, Tage and his brothers would know what I was up to right away. There are cameras everywhere.”

“We can teach you how to handle the cameras.”

She didn't want to help this man. She didn't want to believe what he was telling her. Standing, she gave him a glare. “I'm not feeling well. That drug is making me sick, and so help me God, if it hurt my baby, I'll sue. I'm not your spy. Find someone else. I'm not marrying Tage. After this, I don't ever want to speak with him again. Take me home. I want to go home. Now.”

“Of course.” He clicked his remote again. His gaze lifted to the screen.

She glanced up, expecting to see it roll back up into the ceiling where it belonged.

Instead, she saw a face she hadn't expected to see.

“What?” she blurted as her insides churned. “If you tell me she's involved—”

“No, she isn't. Not in the way you think.” He leaned closer and his expression changed. The friendly guy-next-door charm was gone.

She shivered.

“My job is to close our case. Sometimes that means there are hard decisions to make.”

Shocked to the point of barely being able to speak, she stuttered, “A-a-a-are you threatening me?”

“I'm providing you with motivation.”

“You're blackmailing me?”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want.”

No. Nonono. “You bastard.”

“I've been called worse. But what I do is in the interest of our country. Like I said, millions of lives are at stake.”

Her effing eyes were burning, tearing up. “I don't believe you. The whole thing is crazy. People living with bombs in their homes. Come on.”

“You would think it was crazy. But it's real.”

“I want to go home. I can't do this. I can't.”

“You will help us.” He clicked that damn remote again, and there was another picture of her mom. “She's a nice lady. I would hate to see anything happen to her.”

“Fuck you.”

His eyes scanned the full length of Michelle's body. It was a leer. And it made her feel dirty. “I wouldn't mind that.”

“You're not worthy of touching a single hair on my head. Or hers.” She stabbed a finger in the direction of the screen.

“I won't have to touch her at all. Though it might be fun. For a woman her age, she looks pretty damn good.”

Bile surged up Michelle's throat. She couldn't stop it. She vomited.

Her captor smiled. “Now, I think we'll let you go home. You've gotten my message.”

She'd gotten his message all right. It was either do what he said or the only person in the world who truly cared for her would die.

T
he next Monday, Michelle made a beeline for Angela's office. She stormed in, slammed the door, and snapped, “I met your cousin.”

Seated at her desk, Angela lifted her eyes to Michelle. Her expression was calm, sedate. “He comes off a little rough when he's on the job, but I swear he's a good guy.”

Good guy? Was she kidding? “He's a bastard. He threatened to kill my mother.”

She shrugged. “He's trying to protect a lot of people. If you do what he asks, your mom will be fine. Trust me.”

Ohmygod, she was so furious her whole body was tight. “Trust you? I'm assuming you're the one who told him about me.”

“For the record, no, I didn't tell him. I didn't have to. I'm guessing he saw you on surveillance.”

She wasn't sure she believed that. But then again, it was possible. Until now, she never would have guessed people were watching Tage. Or her.

Standing, Angela gave her an apologetic frown. “Look, I'm sorry. I tried to warn you before it was too late and you got dragged into this. I tried to convince you to give him up. I was going to handle it.” She gave Michelle's shoulder a rub. “Now . . . what? What does Ross want you to do?”

Did she believe Angela was sorry?

Kind of. Angela had tried to tell her. But she hadn't believed her story. It had sounded so impossible.

“He wants me to spy on Tage and his brothers. But I don't know how to do what they want. I can't. I'm no spy. I'm scared. I'm terrified.” She sank into the chair facing Angela's desk. She gripped the chair's arms with her hands. They were shaking. “Can you please talk to your cousin? Tell him I can't do this. Tell him whatever you have to so he'll leave me alone.” She lifted a trembling hand and dragged her thumbs under her burning eyes. The damn hormones, coupled with the stress of the situation, were turning her into such a crybaby. She hated it. “I can't handle this.”

Angela gave her shoulder another rub. “I'll see what I can do. But you'll have to break it off with Tage. Completely. Immediately.”

That was going to be kind of tough. As much as this situation terrified her, she still longed for his touch. She hadn't heard his voice or seen his face in . . . two days? More? It seemed like a lifetime.

But she had to protect her child. And her mom. She couldn't think of herself right now. “Yes, I'll do it. I won't speak to him at all. I promise.”

“Okay. I'll call Ross and talk to him. Hopefully he'll lay off.”

“He has to.”

Understanding, Angela nodded. “Break up with Tage tonight. Go see him. Do it in person. Let him know you mean it. You won't marry him. You don't want him in your life. At all.” She grabbed a pen and printed a phone number on a sticky note. “Call me when it's done.” She pulled the sheet off the notepad and handed it to Michelle.

“Okay. Tonight. I'll do it tonight.” Michelle folded the note in half and stuck it in her purse.

“Good.” Angela returned to her seat and smiled. “Don't worry. I'll talk to him.”

“Thank you.” For the first time in hours, Michelle inhaled a full breath as she left Angela's office.

Back in her own cubicle, she powered up her computer and checked her e-mail. As usual, there was a ton of it. Hoping that would keep her mind occupied, she dug in.

 

Ten hours later, ten
excruciating
hours later, she was standing outside Tage's office door, gazing into his eyes. She'd decided that was the best place to talk to him. She could leave whenever she wanted. Easy escape.

Dammit, this was going to be harder than she thought. His brilliant smile made her heart ache. “Hi, baby.” Shouldering the wall, he jerked his head, coaxing her inside. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Hi.” Her stomach was rumbling and burning. She pressed a hand to it.

His smile vanished and his gaze snapped to her stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I'm okay.” She stepped inside, and the door closed behind her. She was trapped now. Face-to-face with a man who made her insides melt.

A man wanted by the United States government for terrorism.

Do it now, before you lose the nerve.

“We need to—”

The door opened and a couple of women carrying cleaning supplies strolled in. “Good evening, Mr. Garner,” one of them said with a heavy accent of some kind. “Working late again?”

Dammit, she'd almost gotten the words out.

“Yes, working late again.” Tage slid Michelle a worried frown. To Michelle he said, “Come with me.” He escorted her toward his office with a hand on her lower back. That touch sent a wave of regret and sadness rushing through her.

Her child would never know his father.

This sucked.

How had things gone so wrong?

The cleaning women remained behind, in the reception area.

He closed the door. “What's wrong?”

Almost everything.

Somehow she had to say good-bye to him. Her gaze met his. “I . . .”

I can't do this.

You have to. Think of your mom. The baby.

No, I can't.

Her heart jerked.

Tage cupped her cheek. “What's wrong?”

Her eyes started burning again. Her chest constricted. “I have to tell you good-bye.”

“Good-bye?” A pained expression darkened his face.

“Yes.” Her heart literally ripped apart. Her chest burned. She couldn't breathe. She grabbed the door handle. She needed to sit down. She needed to leave. “Marry Angela.”

“No. I want you.”

She tried to open the door, but he jerked it shut again.

Wedging himself between Michelle and the door, he stared into her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to. It's best for me and my family. And our child.”

“How? How is it best for anyone? You look like you're being tortured.”

“I can't explain.” She reached across him, trying to pull the door. “Please let me go.”

“No.” His jaw clenched.

“Please.”

His dark, pain-filled eyes searched hers. It was torture seeing him hurt like this. He was confused. Desperate to understand. But explaining would only make things worse and prolong the agony.

“Talk to me,” he demanded, thrusting an arm out to hold the door shut.

“No. I need to go. Let me go.”

He grabbed her hand. “Michelle.”

She slowly shook her head. “I can't marry you. Not ever. But you and I both know someone who will.” She forced her gaze from his face, focusing on the doorknob.

“This makes no sense,” he growled.

“I'm sorry.”

Releasing the door, he grabbed her shoulders. “Please tell me what happened, Michelle. Something's wrong.”

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because. There's no point.” Frustration twisted her insides into knots. This wasn't ever going to end. She had to cut it off.
Do it fast, like you're tearing off a bandage.
“Hate me if it'll make it easier. I don't love you. I won't marry you.” She gave his chest a shove.

This time he yielded to her touch, falling aside until he was leaning against the wall. His face was a mask of pain, but she forced herself to rip open the door and dive through it before she weakened. She didn't stop there. She ran through his darkened suite, past the cleaning women, past the empty reception desk, through the exit, down the hall, down the stairs, out to her car.

By the time she'd reached her vehicle, her hands were trembling so hard she dropped her keys as she tried to shove them into the ignition. She had to get the hell out of there. Flicking a glance at the entry, looking for Tage, she snatched them up and tried again.

No Tage. Thank God.

Two hands, male hands, smacked against her window as her car's engine started.

His face moved into view. “Michelle.”

She shifted the vehicle into reverse. Her gaze met his for an instant before she jerked it away to check her mirror. With her stomach in her throat, she pushed on the gas. The car zoomed back, angling out of the parking spot. She shifted and hit the gas. She didn't take a breath until she'd turned onto the road.

She drove no more than a quarter mile before the tears started flowing, fast and hard. For safety, she pulled into a grocery parking lot. There, she let them go until she was all dried up and exhausted. When she was sure there was nothing left, she grabbed her phone, dialed the number Angela had given her. The line went directly to voice mail. Angela's cheery greeting was almost too much for her. She choked a little, blurted out, “It's done,” and cut off the connection. Then she drove the rest of the way home, hurried inside, and flopped onto her couch.

Quiet. Peace.

Solitude.

She was alone.

No, not completely alone. She set her hand on her stomach. No, she would never be completely alone again.

Her phone rang and she checked the number. Tage. It rang again. A third time. She cut off the power.

God, she hoped he wouldn't come over. In case he did, she dragged her worn-out body back to her bedroom, undressed, set her alarm for the next morning, and buried herself under the covers.

Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day.

It couldn't get worse.