One Dark Wish, page 8
Nate covered her hand with his, and she let him. His fingers were still warm from clutching his coffee. “This happened centuries ago. And I’d wager most people have never heard it. Why is this story so important to you?”
“My mother was from Savannah and told me all about the legends of pirates and witches and ghosts. I can’t explain why, but because of my mom, I feel connected to Rebecca. She’s lost in history and can’t find her way home. I have this sense I’m meant to prove their love was real, that they didn’t betray each other.”
“Sarah.” Nate squeezed her hand, and heat spread along her arm. “You know finding the truth won’t help your father. Right?”
She yanked her hand away. “What do you know about my father?”
Chapter 9
Nate leaned back in his chair and kept his focus on Sarah’s face. If he didn’t, he’d stare at the rest of her. She’d changed into a white tank top and sweater over a long, flowy pink skirt. When she crossed her legs, the slit in her skirt briefly exposed her bare legs. Instead of hiking boots, she wore brown sandals that showed off her pink-painted toenails.
He shouldn’t have said anything about her father. Yet, while she’d talked about Rebecca and Thomas, there’d been a sadness in her voice that Nate wanted to ease. Except now he’d just killed Calum’s trust after swearing not to say anything. Nate was becoming quite good at betraying people he cared about.
“Nate?” Sarah’s voice sounded higher and pitchier. “How do you know about my father?”
“A few weeks ago, after we met, the young woman at the SPO’s front desk said you’d left early for a family emergency.”
The same woman who’d been murdered the night he kissed Sarah. “I remember that.” She stood and shoved books into a straw bag. “I need to go—”
“I’m sorry.” Nate rose. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” Except from her short, clippy tone it wasn’t. “You reminded me that I need to check on my dad. He’s been hospitalized.” She bit her bottom lip. “But you already know that.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” She put her bag onto her shoulder and passed by him, her skirt brushing his jeans. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. You have this way of appearing in my life.”
“Actually—” The word sounded hoarse, like it’d come out sideways. “I’m leaving town.”
She stopped to look at him, her eyes less wary and more…concerned. Sorry, maybe? A man could only hope.
“Will you be gone long?”
He paused and stared out the window. Across the street, a man in a black hooded sweatshirt stood with his hands in his pockets. Nate couldn’t see the man’s face but could feel his intense stare.
“Nate?” Sarah prompted.
He shook his head and said, “Yes. I’ll be gone for…I’m not sure if I’m coming back.”
“Oh.” She adjusted the bag, and her gaze darted around the café. “I didn’t know.”
“I have two favors to ask.”
“Of course.” She smiled, and every part of his body heated up. Is this woman ever not beautiful?
He glanced out the window. The man in the hoodie had disappeared. “First, I need you to promise not to go out to that cemetery alone.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and threw it on the table. It was too much, but in a few days he wouldn’t need money, so it didn’t matter. “Second, you have to stop your research into Rebecca Prideaux and Thomas Toban.”
Her face scrunched in an adorable way that made him want to kiss her again. “Why?”
“Well, for starters, Cassio—a Fianna warrior—asked you to. Second, I believe you’re in danger from other quarters as well. I’m not sure of the details, but I am sure I won’t be here to protect you.”
“Nate—”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Please, Sarah. Promise me.”
She covered his hand with hers. Where he was hot, her fingers were cold. “I won’t go to the cemetery alone.” She regarded their hands, one of top of the other, and made no move to pull away. “But I’ve spent most of my career studying Rebecca and Thomas.”
He bent in close enough to smell her gardenia perfume, his hand tightening on her arm. “The Fianna want you to stop what you’re doing. And they won’t hesitate to go after the ones you love. It’s no coincidence that after our meeting today your father was involuntarily admitted to the psych ward. The same day Senator Prioleau warned your boss about your research.”
Her eyes widened, and he could hear her breath stutter. “My boss just told me about the senator’s warning. How do you know about my father and those things?”
“I just do. And I’m not the only one.” He focused on her lips and lowered his voice. “Please, Sarah. Take your father and leave town. Forget about Rebecca and Thomas. Save yourself while you still can. If I could go back in time and save myself and my men, I would.”
Despite the sadness in her eyes, she said, “Alright. I won’t send in my grant request.” The strain in her voice matched her deep exhale, as if she’d just lost a fight with herself.
The relief left his muscles trembling. When she dropped the hand covering his, he wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her close, and kissed her. Her bag hit the ground with a thud.
It took a moment before she melted into him, another before her arms wrapped around his neck. Her lips softened beneath his, and he used one hand to keep her head still while his other arm brought her even closer. Her breasts, barely covered by her tank top and sweater, were pressed against his chest, and their hips made contact. He didn’t care if she could feel his reaction to her. He didn’t care about anything other than having her in his arms one last time.
His eyes burned behind his eyelids as his lips moved over hers. He chose a rhythm that dominated yet allowed her to respond. The kiss was wet and hard and wonderful—until someone wolf-whistled.
He raised his head to see her closed eyes and slightly swollen lips. It wasn’t until he kissed her forehead that she left his arms, her hands on her stomach. When her gaze met his, his heart felt like an IED had exploded in his chest. Strands of hair framed her face; her sweater had shifted, exposing a bare shoulder; her rapid breath pushed her breasts higher above her shirt’s neckline. Unable to control his breathing, his thinking, or his deepest needs, he left. He couldn’t bear to see the questions in her brown eyes. He couldn’t bear to say goodbye.
* * *
Sarah couldn’t move. She couldn’t adjust her sweater or find her straw bag. Even her breath couldn’t find a normal rhythm. Nate had done it again. He’d kissed her and then walked away, leaving her a trembling mess.
Aftershocks made her shiver, and she fixed her sweater. She’d heard the whistle, but now everyone had returned to their phones and conversations. She found her bag and touched her lips. She’d never, in her entire life, been kissed the way Nate kissed her. She’d never been held so tightly against such a hard body. She’d never been made to feel so…desired. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. How could he kiss her and walk away? Again?
After clearing the table, she left the café. Although his kiss had gifted her the moon, his sad eyes had told her he didn’t want to go wherever he was going. His demeanor was more than despairing. It was defeated.
Including today, she’d met Nate six times. And in the first five, he’d been a man of determination and force, asking questions, making plans, issuing orders. And always incredibly polite. But the man who’d just asked her to abandon her life’s work, kissed her, and walked away? That wasn’t Nate. That was a man who’d lost.
What changed since she’d seen him earlier?
She headed toward her truck. Had she just agreed not to restore Rebecca’s diary? Had she just agreed not to reclaim her professional reputation? Apparently so. The decision hurt more than she’d expected. Or maybe the pain was from Nate’s habit of kissing and leaving. Either way, she wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and critique the next episode of Drunk History.
As she neared Iron Rack’s Gym, she saw Nate on the sidewalk talking to the friend with the long black braid. The same man she’d seen at the police station two weeks ago.
Nate’s friend laid his helmet on top of his motorcycle and put his hand on Nate’s arm, but Nate threw it off. Clearly, they were arguing, though she couldn’t hear what they were saying. A third man came out of the gym and joined them. This one had dark brown hair tied at the base of his neck. While the man with the braid had tribal tattoos on each bicep, barely visible beneath his T-shirt, the new man had tattooed arms. When he clasped his hands behind his head, the underside of the tats showed. They were full-circumference inked sleeves.
What was she doing? Spying on Nate and his friends? For what reason? Because Nate was hot. Because she craved his arms around her one more time. Because he’d been kind to her, saved her, and then paid for her photos.
And made me walk away from my life’s work.
Now she was standing in a dingy street, lusting after a man she barely knew who probably belonged to a biker gang and who’d asked her to give up on her career. She moved into the closest alley and closed her eyes. What is wrong with me?
A bottle smashed, and she opened her eyes. Two guys jostled each other at the other end of the alley. She got into her truck, and saw a man in a black hoodie in an old service station near Iron Rack’s. He hovered beneath the faded Texaco sign, staring at Nate and his buddies.
She didn’t like the way the hooded man looked at Nate.
Nate’s buddies went inside, but Nate stayed outside, eyes closed, face to the sky as if wanting to feel the sun’s rays for the last time. Finally, he followed his friends. A moment later, the hooded man crossed the street and slipped something through Iron Rack’s door mail slot.
Once the man left, she headed home. New construction projects around the city and detours for tomorrow’s opening of the Summer Arts Festival snarled traffic the entire way.
She had no business interfering in Nate’s life. Yet, as she drove around a garden square, she made a U-turn. It took another twenty minutes before she parked in the same spot she’d vacated. The moment she got out, her phone hummed with a text.
Lady Sarah, the past is but a battle lost. Leave it be or risk the cost.
“Dammit, Cassio.” Seriously. What had Rebecca and Thomas ever done to him?
She grabbed her bag and locked the truck. After looking both ways, she crossed the street and entered Iron Rack’s Gym.
Chapter 10
In the gym’s laundry room, Zack took a pile of laundry out of the dryer and dumped it in the basket. After he loaded the dryer with another wet pile, he filled the washer again and hit Start. Then he carried the basket into the adjacent locker room and dropped it onto a table against the wall.
“Hey,” Ty said, coming into the locker room. “You texted?”
“Yes. Where are the others?”
“Dunno.” Ty threw himself onto one of the benches in between a row of lockers. He rested his head on his clasped hands, bent his leg to place a boot on the wooden seat, and stared at the ceiling. “Who else did you ask to this clandestine meeting?”
“It’s not clandestine.”
“If the CO and the XO aren’t invited, it’s clandestine.”
Vane appeared, with Luke and Cain following behind. “Got your text. But I have a class in a few minutes.”
Of course he did. Zack hid his irritation. There was no reason to be annoyed by Vane, other than the fact that he was always annoying.
“Where’s Nate?” Luke carried a clipboard and sat next to Ty’s head.
“He just got into the ring with some unlucky civilian.” Cain’s shoulder held up the nearest locker. “Nate’s in a mood and was looking to pound flesh.”
“Or get pounded in return.” Pete came in last with a frown the size of Idaho and straddled a metal folding chair someone had left near the table. “Make it fast. Once Nate takes down his sparring buddy, he’ll be checking to see if we’re following his chore chart.”
“I like Nate’s chart,” Luke said. “It’s organized and fair.”
Ty sighed. Zack knew every day that passed without more intel about how they’d landed in this nightmare made it more difficult for Ty to offer any emotional responses other than sarcasm.
In fact, Zack couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed or had fun or watched a horror flick together with popcorn and beer.
Zack took a deep breath and started. “We have a situation—”
“Nate is returning to that psych ward,” Vane said, “isn’t he?”
Zack put his hands on his hips. A safer place than around Vane’s neck, squashing his smug, self-satisfied voice. “Yes.”
Ty sat up, straddling the bench. “Excuse me?”
“Kells just told us.” Zack kept his attention on Cain, whose red face and fisted hands didn’t need commentary.
Pete added, “Nate leaves in two days.”
“Why?” Cain’s question came out loaded with confusion, frustration, and anger.
Pete rose and stood next to Zack. Apparently they were going to address the men together. “Because Nate’s release had never been anything but temporary.”
“This is bullshit.” Cain paced the room, running his hands over his shaved head. “Do we know who helped Kells get Nate out? Maybe we can talk to whoever that is.”
“No,” Luke said. “Kells’s source is a secret.”
“That military prison hospital,” Pete said, “is on an uninhabited island off the coast of Maine. All of the men stashed there have powerful enemies.”
“As do we,” Ty reminded them.
“So now what?” Vane asked. “Do we let Nate go? Ghost him? Fight for him?”
“We can’t ghost him,” Luke said. “Whoever helped Kells get Nate free also made it so we were dishonorably discharged without jail time.”
“Meaning,” Cain said, “if we help Nate escape, then we go to jail?”
“Yes,” Luke said. “The person helping Kells has all the leverage.”
“I have an idea,” Zack said. “It’s why I wanted to meet alone.”
“I don’t see any way out of this.” Vane looked at each of them for optimal theatrical effect. “Maybe it’s for the best. Nate is still having seizures and delusions.”
A moment later, Pete’s fist slammed into Vane’s stomach. Vane doubled over, gasping for air. Cain yanked Pete away, tossed him into the chair, and stood guard.
Zack gripped Vane’s shoulder, helping him up. “You okay?”
“No.” Vane spat on the floor. “What the fuck was that for, Pete?”
“For questioning Nate’s sanity.” Pete shifted until Cain crossed his arms.
“I’m telling Kells,” Vane said.
“Do it,” Pete said sullenly. “Asshole.”
Vane made to leave but Zack grabbed his forearm. “Not yet.” Then Zack looked at every man in the room. “Nate needs our help. And I have an idea. But it’ll only work if we work together and agree to keep this quiet.”
“From Kells?” Vane snorted. “After what’s been happening the past few months, the last thing we need is secrets between us.”
While Zack would normally be the first to agree, this wasn’t a secret from the world. Just from Kells. “For now, Vane. We only have a few days, and if it doesn’t work, then it won’t matter. If it does, Kells won’t care. This is what we’re going to do.” Zack straightened his shoulders, spread his legs, and put his hands on his hips. “Luke, you’re the linchpin to this plan.”
Luke held up his clipboard. “Always am.”
“First, I want to see those files you were compiling with all the info for our defense in case we went to trial.”
Luke nodded. “I just transferred everything to a remote secure server.”
“Second, I want you all to write down everything you can remember for the past five years.”
Vane scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” Male voices sounded outside the locker room, so Zack lowered his own. “I need each of us to record everything we can remember from the night Nate’s and Jack’s teams were ambushed in the Pamir River Valley. Anything you can recall from the recorded messages we received, planning their rescue, their return to the States, and their trials and convictions, up to two weeks ago when we were finally discharged.”
“Everything?” Cain rubbed his fist on his chin. “That’s a lot of writing.”
“I know.” Especially for a man like Cain who’d rather do than write. “Ask Charlotte to help. Her perspective could be important. She might remember something we missed.”
Cain nodded.
“I’ll call Abigail Casey,” Luke said. “I’m sure she’d do anything to help us.”
“Great.” Abigail was married to Liam Casey, one of the ten men in their unit imprisoned in Leedsville. Unfortunately, at the time of the ambush five years ago, only three wives were left in the unit.
“What about Kate?” Ty asked. “She was still married to Kells when this nightmare started.”
The room went quiet. The truth was no one wanted to touch that mess. Kells was still dealing with the emotional aftermath of his wife leaving him.
“I’ll do it,” Vane said. “Kate may help us. She always liked me and Nate.”
Everyone liked Nate. “Great.” As much as it killed Zack to say it, he managed a short “Thanks, Vane. Nate leaves in two days. Time is critical.”
After agreeing to write out their memories as quickly as possible, the men left, except for Pete. Zack found the basket he’d filled earlier and started folding, stacking the clean clothes and towels on the table. Halfway through the pile, he asked Pete, “What’s wrong?”
