To the Brink (30 page)

She pushed against his chest and broke the contact of their mouths. "Go to hell!"

He would. He had no doubt he would. If not for what he'd done, for what he was about to do.

He lifted her off her feet. Carried her into the bedroom and dumped her on the bed. When she started to scramble away, he dived down after her, landed flush on top of her, and captured her mouth again.

She bit him. He swore, then pinned her hands above her head and, using his body for leverage, reached up under her dress and ripped off her panties.

He was sweating. Breathing hard as he shoved down his pants, then wedged a knee between her thighs.

She cried out. Not in pain. Not in fear. But in total, unequivocal disbelief.

It shocked him back to himself.

Jesus.
Jesus.
What was he doing?

What the hell was he doing? Punishing
her
for
his
sins? Making her pay because he couldn't live with himself?

Feeling sick to his stomach, he rolled off of her. Sucked in air, then sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows propped on his thighs and buried his face in his hands.

"Christ, Darcy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She was everything good in his life. And he'd been about to use her in the ugliest, cruelest way possible.

He could hear her ragged breaths leveling out behind him. Waited for her to tell him to get his badass self out of her sight. It was what he deserved. He was scum. He was—oh Christ. He was crying.

Bawling like a baby.

And then she was there. Her soft hands soothing. Her warm arms enfolding. Her own tears hot and wet on his shoulder as she pulled him back against her. With gentle persuasion, her words laced with pain, she laid him down beside her, pressed his face against her lush breasts, and shushed him like a child.

"It's okay. It's okay. I love you, Ethan. I love you. We're okay."

She murmured those words over and over again, pressing kisses to his face, to his damp eyes, to his mouth, when he rolled her beneath him and entered her with the gentlest of care.

For a while, he believed what he felt. Believed what she said. They were okay. Everything was okay when he was inside her sweet, healing warmth.

"We're okay," she whispered again when he'd spilled himself inside her.

It was a lie.

And they both knew it.

So they lay in the dark the rest of the night, holding each other close, afraid to let go because they knew they would have to face the truth in the morning.

That tonight was the beginning of the end between them.

ANCHORAGE, ALASKA, USA

PRESENT

Darcy looked up as Nolan entered the bedroom. They'd landed less than five minutes ago and the plane had just taxied to a stop on the customs ramp.

"What's happening?" Ethan asked.

He'd awakened the same time Darcy had. The chirp of the wheels connecting with the tarmac had startled them awake.

"Nothing yet," Nolan said. "We're waiting for instructions."

Beside her, Ethan pushed himself up against the headboard so he could sit up. Darcy could see the effort cost him. "What's the plan?"

"To make it past customs without causing a stir."

"But I don't have my passport. Neither does Amy." Darcy looked from Nolan to Ethan. "So how's that going to happen?"

She'd been worrying about that since they'd boarded the private jet at Zamboanga. Wondering how they were going to get back into the U.S. without ID. Not to mention she'd been hoping to keep her return quiet until she could figure out whom she could trust and where to go from here. And more and more she was worried that it might not be only her life that hung in the balance, but anyone who associated with her.

"Your passports are the least of our worries," Nolan said. "We just staged an unsanctioned paramilitary action under the nose of a foreign government. Trust me, we'd just as soon keep you under wraps."

"Like that's going to happen with the local army showing up in force," Ethan pointed out.

Nolan grunted. "You can bet the Philippine press will get wind of the unidentified individuals who rode out under fire in a military chopper—especially when they find the Huey and put together that it was the chopper in question."

"Won't be long before the international press tunes in, too, does the math, adds your abduction into the mix," Ethan said, nodding at Darcy, "and they start looking for answers. They'll have 'em if you and Amy are found aboard this plane."

What a mess. Darcy had known there could be far-reaching implications, but this ... God.

"You could all be facing criminal charges," she said, feeling guilt tighten inside her. "Not to mention Darin Kincaid and the pilots who are in this up to their necks, too."

"Darcy," Ethan said, "you put your trust in us on the island. Don't give up on us now. We're not going to let it get that far.

"Now what's the plan?" he repeated, looking toward Nolan.

"We're going to take on fuel and food here at the FBO. While we wait, Jim—the head pilot—will leave the plane, declare everyone but Amy and Darcy on board, and present our passports to the customs agent to stamp."

"The agent won't board the plane?"

Nolan shrugged. "Yeah, he'll board but according to Jim, he probably won't go past the main cabin."

"Probably? But what if he does?"

Nolan tugged on his ear. "That's where it gets a little dicey. I'm banking on him not bringing the dogs, but if he does a full search, we need a back-up plan." He shot Darcy a grim smile. "How do you feel about tight, dark places?"

Oh,
God. "How tight? How dark?"

"We'll have to hide you and Amy in the baggage compartment," Nolan clarified with an apology in his voice. "The agent would have no reason to believe a corporate royal barge like this one would be smuggling in stowaways. He'll do a cursory search—probably out of curiosity more than anything, just to see how the other half flies—and when he's gotten an eyeful, he'll call it good."

"And when will we know if it's door number one or door number two?" Darcy asked.

She jumped when a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

With a quick lift of his finger to his lips warning Darcy to be quiet, Nolan cracked the door open.

Dallas poked his head inside. "FBO just called. Jim and the agent are about to board."

"Closet?" Darcy asked, her gaze cutting first to Dallas, then to Nolan.

On a deep breath, Nolan nodded. "Just to be safe."

"I'm worried about Amy handling it." The concern on Dallas's face said exactly how worried he was.

"She'll be okay," Darcy said. "She'll be strong. Let me go talk to her."

"Better make it quick," Nolan warned. "We've only got a few minutes."

And thankfully, it was only a few minutes that Darcy, holding Amy tight, had to spend in the closet. A few minutes that seemed like hours while Amy shook in her arms, while Darcy whispered reassurances and prayed Amy could hold it together.

When the closet door opened and light flooded inside, followed quickly by Nolan's, "All clear," Darcy realized that Amy hadn't been the only one struggling to keep it together.

"That's it then?" Darcy asked, hearing the tremor in her voice and recognizing it as a mix of panic and relief as Nolan walked with her back to the bedroom and Dallas shepherded Amy back to the sofa in the main cabin.

"That's it," Nolan said brightly. "Even though we overfly Canada, since we're clearing customs in Alaska, we're good to West Palm. And since we cleared customs at a point of entry into the U.S., we don't have to clear again."

"We just caught a huge break, babe," Ethan said. "I think this calls for a treat."

She rolled her eyes as Ethan produced a roll of Life Savers.

"Smile," he said, popping one into his mouth. "You're almost home."

Dallas closed the door and walked back into the main cabin. Nolan stayed in back with Ethan and Darcy. Manny was evidently up front with the copilots shooting the shit.

Only Amy remained in the main cabin. She was lying on her side on the sofa, covered by a blanket, sound asleep again.

Dallas stood over her, frowned in concern. He suspected that her fever had returned but was hesitant to check, afraid he'd wake her.

She looked so frail and childlike lying there, her fists knotted tight under her chin, her blond hair spilling across the bone-colored leather of the sofa. Her lashes were thick and long and lay like pale tawny fans against her sunburned cheeks. Her bruises had changed color yet again—smudgy purple being the most predominant.

He dragged his gaze away, looked out the window where the ground crew was in the process of refueling the jet. And he reminded himself that Amy wasn't frail. After what she'd been through, she sure as hell wasn't childlike, either.

She could take care of herself. And she would. When she got healthy. Until then—God he was a fool—until then, he was going to make sure she didn't have to recover on her own.

He forked his fingers through his hair. When he'd come to that decision he didn't exactly know. And why in the hell he thought it was his job to take care of her was an even bigger mystery. He knew he could turn her over to Eve. And that's what he should do. But Eve was basically still a newlywed. She and Mac were in the process of building their new house.

Some excuse,
a sarcastic voice needled him.
You'd use any excuse to ensure that you were the one taking care of Amy until she got back on her feet.

Jaw tight, he buried his hands in his back pockets and turned back to her—to see that she was awake now and watching him. Blinking like a little bird, with only her head out of the covers.

"Hi," he said, and cleared his throat when it came out gravelly.

"Hi," she said in a voice so soft he could barely hear her.

"How you feeling?"

She pinched out a smile. "Good. I feel good."

"Yeah. And I'm Spiderman."

"Yeah," she said, her smile real and spontaneous this time, "you are—well, maybe not Spiderman but a superhero just the same."

Okay. That wasn't good. She was splashing all kinds of color on a canvas that should be nothing but black on white.

"I told you... I came on this op kicking and screaming. I was just saving my own hide out there— you happened to reap the benefits."

"And he's humble, too."

He shook his head. Was going to set her straight but could only stand in silence when her eyes fluttered shut again and she drifted back off to sleep.

An unwanted tenderness filled his chest as he tucked the blanket around her feet.

He stood there. Not liking what he was feeling. Not feeling what he should.

And he didn't have a clue as to what to do about it.

Chapter 21

MANILA,
 
PHILIPPINES

PRESENT