Darkest Ecstasy (22 page)

She eased her arm out of his grip. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

Sorry? “For what?” he asked.

“For not being what you needed me to be.”

“I don't understand. When did I ask you to be anything but yourself?”

“That's not what I meant.” Sighing, she looked left, right. “I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it. “Away. So you can marry Angela. So you can forget about me.” On the move again, she shoved open the main exit door. But he yanked it shut before she'd gotten through it, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pinned her against the wall.

Her eyes jerked to his.

This time he saw fear.

“I won't hurt you,” he vowed.

“I know.” Her lip trembled.

“Then why are you so afraid?”

She blinked. Once. Again. “I can't tell you.”

A chill swept through him. This wasn't about a simple disagreement or misunderstanding. Michelle was terrified. She was running.

She had found out.

“What do you know?” he asked.

“About what?” Her gaze locked on his.

Yes, he'd struck the truth “About me? About my brothers?”

“I don't know anything.”

“I don't believe you.”

Her chest began rising and falling swiftly. Her eyes reddened. “Please, let me go. If you care at all about me, you'll just let me go.”

He took her wrist and pulled her into the building, to her door. “Unlock it. Let's go inside and talk.”

“No, I have to leave.”

“Five more minutes.”

“That's what you said ten minutes ago.”

“You exaggerate.” He checked his watch. “It's only been eight minutes.”

She scoffed, yanked.

He didn't release her.

She swung a little fist at his belly. It didn't hurt.

He didn't release her.

She kicked a knee toward his nuts. He blocked it just before it made contact.

He lifted a foot, slammed it into the door, and it flew open, banged against the wall inside and bounced shut again. With a shoulder, he opened it, dragged her inside, then kicked it closed.

Taking full advantage of their difference in size, he cornered her between the door and the coat closet. “We're alone. Talk to me.”

“I can't. I have to go.” She ducked and tried to wriggle past him.

He rammed his arms out, caging her body between them. “What are you afraid of?”

She blinked and a big, fat tear dribbled down her cheek. “Please. Let me go. Marry Angela.”

“You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you.”

“It's not me I'm worried about.”

Another chill swept through him.

It was the Chimera. It had to be.

“Who?”

“My mother.” She pushed on his chest, weakly. “Please, let me go. They'll kill her if I don't do what they say.”

“Damn.” The Chimera had already found them? So soon? How? “We can protect her.”

Sobbing softly, she dragged her hands across her face. “They know where she lives. They'll get to her before we could.”

“Trust me.” He caught her hands in his. He pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips. “Please, Michelle.”

“I . . . I'm scared.” Her little body trembled against his.

Dammit, he had to protect her. “Please, trust me.” He cupped her cheek and stared into her eyes. There was so much raw emotion in them, so much terror and worry. All he wanted to do was make it all go away. “Please.”

She sobbed. “Tage, I don't know what to believe.” She dropped her head onto his chest and wept, and he pulled her into his arms and held her until the tears stopped. Even then, she trembled. “Is what they said true? Are you a terrorist?”

“That's what they want you to believe.”

“Do you have some kind of weapon in your house?”

“No, not a weapon.”

“What is it?”

“I can't tell you any more until I know if you're willing to trust me completely. You have to trust me with your life. The life of our child. The life of your mother.”

That was asking a lot. He knew that. He wasn't sure he would get the response he was hoping for.

This truly was that final moment, the one that would determine which direction his life would take. Michelle now knew some of his secrets. She understood there was danger, risk. What would she do? Would she walk away, find someone else, someone safe who would love her and give her a safe, ordinary life? Or would she choose him?

The agony was almost unbearable.

I
t was true. Oh God, it was true. Michelle was going to pass out.

Little pinpoints of white light were sparkling before her eyes. It felt like the air was thin. No oxygen. Her knees were getting soft.

She was sinking. Falling.

The blackness descended upon her like a heavy blanket tossed from high above. And then she was on her bed. Tage was standing over her, his face tight.

Something was ringing. Her phone?

She started to sit up but he held her in place, hands on her shoulders.

“No, don't move so quickly,” he said. “You'll pass out again.”

“My phone.” Her voice was weak, shaky.

“I'll get it.” He jogged out into the living room. Seconds later, he returned, her purse in his hands. “It sounds like it's in here.”

“Thanks.” She fished her phone out of the pocket and hit the button to see who had called. It was her mom. She'd left a message.

A few pokes later the message was playing.

“Hi, honey, this is Mom. I can't wait to see you today. Please drive safely. I'll be ready for you when you arrive, with a nice meal. Don't eat any of that junk on the road. I love you.” Then there was a bang.
Mom.
“Who are you? What... ?” A scream.

Michelle's heart stopped.

The phone slipped from her hand.

“No,” she muttered.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

Her stomach flipped. Again. She gagged, tried to jump off the bed, but Tage swept her into his arms.

She vomited on him.

“Oh God,” she said between heaves as he hurried her into the bathroom.

“What happened?” he asked as he gently placed her on the floor beside the toilet.

“Someone . . .” She swallowed hard. “Attacked.”

“We'll help her,” he said calmly as he gently stroked her hair back from her face. “It's me they want, my brothers and me. Not her. They won't harm her.”

She heaved again. And again. Nothing came up. She sputtered and cried and trembled. Behind her, she heard him moving around. Water running. When he returned, he had a soapy washcloth in his hands. And he was shirtless.

He reached out with the washcloth, presumably to wipe her face, but she took it from him.

“Thanks.” She blotted her face. “I can handle this myself.”

“Okay.” Standing upright, he backed toward the door. “I'll wait outside. If you need help, yell.”

She nodded and locked herself in her bathroom. She needed this time alone, to sort out what had just happened. It was all too much. Her system simply couldn't handle it. Still trying to sort through the craziness, she cranked on the shower.

Had Tage just admitted to being wanted by the federal government? Had he?

Had her mother just been attacked or taken hostage? Had she?

And now the man who was responsible for all of it expected her to trust him with her life? Her mother's?

This had to be either a really bad joke or she was sleeping and it was a nightmare.

She pinched herself. Hard.

Could she sleep through that?

She checked the water. It was hot. She stripped and stepped under the spray.

It stung.

Could she sleep through that, too?

She soaped up, rinsed off, and finally got out.

She certainly couldn't be sleeping after all of that. She pressed her ear to the door. Maybe she'd sleepwalked into the bathroom and now was awake? Since becoming pregnant, she had had some really vivid dreams.

If Tage was on the other side of the door, then it couldn't be a dream.

She put on her robe and opened the door.

Tage was sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed.

Damn.
“Tell me this is a prank,” she pleaded.

He visibly swallowed. “I wish I could tell you that. But it isn't.”

Reality hit her like a sledgehammer. She staggered.

Within a blink, he was at her side, steadying her. “Let's get you dressed and somewhere safe. Their next move will be to abduct you.” He half-carried her to the bench. “Sit down.”

She sat. The next step would be to abduct her? That had already happened. But they'd let her go. Maybe the next time . . . they wouldn't. “I don't understand any of this.”

“I'll explain it later. After you're safe.” He hurried to her dresser and yanked open her top drawer. Grabbing a pair of panties and a bra with one hand, he pulled the third drawer open with the other. Within seconds, he had a complete outfit picked out, T-shirt, jeans, underwear, socks. He set the clothes down in her lap. “Please hurry.” He went to the window and peered through the blinds.

“Are they really CIA?” She pulled on her panties, then shrugged out of her robe so she could put on her bra.

Still staring out the window, he shouldered the wall. “Probably. They've infiltrated just about every organization in the government.”

“Who is ‘they'?” She hooked her bra.

“The Chimera.”

“Chimera?” she echoed, trying hard to comprehend whatever the hell she'd somehow fallen into.

She felt like Alice. She'd tumbled down the rabbit hole and had landed in a scary, dark place. And, the worst part was, she'd dragged her mom down that hole with her. She plopped back down on the bench and grabbed her jeans.

He explained, “They're a secret organization.”

“Like . . . the Masons? But secret?” she asked as she stuffed her feet into her jeans and yanked them up.

“Yes. This group has been trying to kill me and my brothers since the day we were born.”

She grabbed her shirt, hugged it to her chest. “When you were children?”

“Yes.”

A chill buzzed up her spine. “They wanted to kill children? Why?” She pulled on her shirt.

“I can't tell you yet.”

Rage blazed through her.

What?

Why couldn't he tell her? Wasn't she in deep enough? Didn't he owe her an explanation? Didn't he owe her something?

Her hand went to her stomach. “If those people wanted you dead when you were young, then . . . then . . .” Her stomach roiled again.

Still standing at the window, he flicked a look her way. “Yes. That's why I was trying so hard to convince you to marry me. I need to protect you.”

Her child? They would try to kill her child? No. No one would want to kill an innocent child. That was inhumane. “This is crazy. It can't be real.”

“It is. I'm sorry.” He turned to face her. “Are you ready?”

“I don't have my shoes.”

“Where are they?”

“There.” She pointed toward her closet.

“Get them on. Let's go.”

“Where are we going?” She grabbed the first pair she found, pulled them on, and tied them.

“To get the rest of the family. We have to relocate. As soon as possible.”

Her head was spinning so fast she could barely comprehend a single word he said. “Relocate? Like, move?”

“Yes. That's the only way we can protect you.” He waved her toward the door.

She hesitated. Words were sinking in now. And those words were scary. “You're a fugitive. If I go with you, I'll be one, too. That's no way to live.”

He caught her arms in his and looked into her eyes. “Michelle, I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I tried to stay away from you. I knew you weren't the kind of woman who would choose a life like this for yourself. I hope someday you'll be able to forgive me. Running is the only way for us to live. If they catch us, they'll kill us. All of us.”

His gaze locked on her stomach.

A half hour later, Michelle was standing in the center of a whirlwind. It wasn't a literal one, but it was no less terrifying. There were bags stacked up next to the back door. Rin and Lei would dump a couple more every few minutes, then scurry back upstairs. Tage, whom they called Talen, had left her in the midst of the melee, promising to return as soon as he could. She guessed he and his brothers were somewhere making plans for their big escape.

More than once she considered dashing out the door and never coming back. But when her mom's face flashed through her mind, she couldn't do it. For one thing, it was too late for that. If the CIA had gone after her mom, then Plan A, in which Angela married Tage and seduced him into giving her the information the CIA wanted, had been abandoned.

Her phone chimed.

Speak of the devil.

It was a text.

Your mother is safe. For now. Get us the information we want.

She texted back,
I don't know how.

Photos. Send us photographs.

She snapped a picture of the room in which she was standing and sent it to him.

Good. Photograph every room. Look for things that seem out of place.

Every room? How would she do that without getting caught? Her palms started sweating. She didn't want to do this. Although she felt Tage wouldn't hurt her, even for helping the people they called the enemy, she couldn't be so sure about his brothers.

She glanced back toward the stairs. The sisters seemed to have stopped hauling stuff down for the moment. She headed toward the back of the house, where less action was going on. There she found the room with the indoor swimming pool. Visually scanning the space for anything out of place, she lifted her camera and took a shot. Everything seemed to be in order there. She sent the photo, then moved to the next room.

It was a bathroom. Sink, toilet, shower. She snapped a couple of shots but didn't send them. This was silly. Surely nobody would hide a super-secret weapon of mass destruction in a bathroom. She quietly crept to the next room.

A library. She scanned the shelves of books. All the classics were there. Dickens, Twain, Austen.

She pulled out
Persuasion
. Jane Austen was one of her all-time favorite authors. How long had it been since she'd last read it? Ages. She flipped to the first page.

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one. . . .

“Did you find something interesting?”

The book jostled in her hands, then dropped to the floor. It landed with a
thump
. She turned to face the speaker, standing somewhere near the door.

It was Tage.

“I apologize if I startled you,” he said from the doorway.

“I . . . guess all this has me a little jumpy.” If she hadn't stopped to read, he might have caught her taking pictures. Moving her hand slowly, she slipped her phone into her pocket.

“That's not surprising.” He stepped closer. His gaze meandered over her face, which was getting warm as her heart rate kicked higher. “You're flushed. Are you feeling ill again?”

“Maybe a little.”

He stooped down, picked up the book. Straightening up, he handed it to her. “You should sit down. Rest.”

“I was. But then I got restless.” She lifted the book to return it to the shelf.

“Didn't you want to read it? You'll need a diversion while we're traveling. Maybe it'll take your mind off things.”

“I suppose.” She tucked the volume in her folded arm and nodded. “What's happening?”

“We're almost ready to go.”

“Where will we go?”

“I can't tell you that yet.” He took her hands in his and led her to the big, cushy, oversized chair in the room's corner. “Sit down. Please. I don't want you passing out again.” After she sat, he knelt on the floor in front of her. “I know you're terrified right now. Your mother is being held captive by people you don't trust. You've learned I'm not exactly who or what you thought. And now I'm asking you to trust me to keep your mother safe.”

Yes, that pretty much summed things up. “I don't understand what's happening.”

He nodded. “I know. You'll learn everything soon.”

“How are you going to save my mom?”

“We know whom we are dealing with. She won't be harmed.” He was being so vague. Was it any wonder she was having doubts? “You aren't convinced yet that you can trust us, I sense.”

“Wouldn't you be dubious, too, if you were in my shoes? I'm terrified. I'm pregnant. Somehow I've dragged my mother into something bigger than either of us. I don't know who the father of my child really is. What is your real name? Who are you? I'm watching you all prepare for whatever is happening as if it's a regular thing . . .” Eyes burning, she blinked, sniffled. “I don't know.”

“Not to add any pressure, but I need you to make a choice. Either you come with us, leave everything behind, and start new somewhere else, or you go home and live your life like we were never a part of it.”

Not to add any pressure.

She couldn't think as it was. Her brain was short-circuited. How could she make a choice like this now?