Dark Memories (The DARK Files Book 1) (28 page)

“Cole, oh God.” What could she do? How could she help with her wrists and ankles tied? Scuttling across the floor, she searched for the other gun. Heat from the blaze seared her skin. Smoke sent her into a coughing spasm. “Help! Please help!”

Cole reared up. She could barely see through the smoky haze. He landed a solid right on Markos’s jaw.

The importer sagged to the ground. He lay still.

“Get her out of here,” Cole shouted, his voice a harsh croak.

And then strong arms lifted her up and out into the night. Someone deposited her on the rain-soaked grass and ran back to the blazing shed.

The door was flung wider. People rushed in.

“Please,” she gasped. “You have to save him.”

Lifting her face to the dark sky in prayer, she didn’t know if the welcome wetness was rain or her tears.

BY THE TIME Cole finished with ambulances, the Alderport Fire Department and various law-enforcement agencies, it was morning. He’d be buried in reports for weeks.

But Laura was safe, thank God.

And Alexei Markos was in custody.

As soon as the fire started, Cole’s fellow officers had called 911 and raced inside to pull everyone to safety. His shot found its target in Markos’s shoulder, but the bastard’s bullet grazed his arm. They grappled in the dirt and blood and flames until he knocked the crook out. Byrne and Snow dragged them outside.

Because the hit man was failing on his contract on Laura, Markos and his henchman Kovar had arrived that evening to spur him to action. Or to kill him.

During Snow’s regular walk-through of the resort, he spotted their black Volvo parked behind an unoccupied cottage. He alerted Ward at about the same time she and Byrne found Cole in the theater basement. Snow then followed Markos and his muscle to the boat shed. Luckily Kovar hung back far enough for the DARK officer to jump and hog-tie him.

Cole speculated that the importer had planned to eliminate both Kovar and Isaacs —unnecessary and dangerous witnesses — before he flew out of the country. That little bit of information might induce Kovar to sing like a northern loon. Too bad the hit man wouldn’t be able to talk.

Isaacs. A government turncoat. Cole had found no hint in his check of the DARK team. He tumbled to the man’s identity as Janus too late. Too late he realized that the only person who had access to all their plans and to all the buildings could only be another DARK officer.

All of the miscommunication and absences were contrived by Isaacs. A former ATF agent who claimed no tech expertise but who knew how to mess with phone apps. After both Cole and Laura had disappeared from the theater, Byrne noticed the disabling on his phone and fixed it in time for Laura’s warning to get through.

Coincidence, some might way. Cole called it good surveillance by the good guys on the DARK team. General Nolan would spit a brick when Cole informed him that one of his officers was the notorious Janus.

He kicked at a drift of ashes. The shed was a dead loss, only a pile of rubble by daybreak. Turning from what was left of the structure, he strode to his cabin.

Insisting insurance and a supplement from DARK would take care of the loss, Stan Hart was more charitable toward the new mess. He’d announced to the local press, present to review
Diner
, his undercover role in the “sting.” He would spin what might have been negative press into positive publicity for Hart’s Inn Resort.

Cole entered the cabin as Laura was emerging from the bedroom. After the medicos had pronounced her fit and at least one set of cops had taken her statement, Cole insisted she get some rest.

Showered and dressed in borrowed jeans and a resort polo, she made his heart soar. The twin contusions on her cheeks couldn’t mar her beauty. The shirt collar lay flat, no longer flipped up to conceal the knife scars.

Badges of courage all.

“Going somewhere?” He hoped she didn’t notice the hitch in his voice. He stood in the kitchen, unable to move a step closer to her without snatching her up in his arms. He doubted she was ready to accept his desperate relief and need.

“To my parents’ in Maryland. They flew home last night. I have no ID for a plane ticket, so my father’s sending a car.” She walked hesitantly toward him, her gaze on his bandaged arm. Her lips forming a moue of sympathy, she reached out as if to check the wound, then drew back her hand. “Does it hurt much?”

It throbbed like a thousand killer bees had stung him, and he wanted her to cluck over him and pamper him. He shrugged. “It’s not bad.”

“You look red. Did the fire burn you?”

“A few places. My face, one arm. No worse than a sunburn. Rolling around in the dirt probably kept most of the flames away. Markos got it worse. Second-degree burns on his hand when he tried to grab his gun. Not nearly enough damage to make up for his sins.”

External burns were nothing compared to the fiery need Cole had for her. How should he begin?

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She darted to the bedroom and returned. She passed him a black mesh garment. “Here’s the body armor you made me wear last night. Later when I thought about Janus shooting you, I remembered there was no blood. I should’ve realized you were wearing one too. At first I thought you were dead.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she turned away.

He longed to hold her, but they had to settle things before he let his desire for her cloud his mind. His gut twisted with the suspicion she might not forgive him for his carelessness, for putting her in jeopardy. “I thought the vest would protect you. You went off with Isaacs the hit man, and I didn’t even notice. Damned lousy protection.”

“It protected you, thank heavens.” She offered him a small, sad smile. “And if I hadn’t gone with Isaacs-Janus, who knows what he would’ve done next. He … he threatened to shoot you if I didn’t go or if I warned you.”

He breathed again. Just like her, not to blame him for making a hash of things. He didn’t mention that Isaacs probably wouldn’t have risked a shot in the crowded theater.

“You heard me on the phone, so you know what he admitted. Still, it’s too bad you can’t question him.” Her chin came up. “But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

“Sweetheart, you grilled him as thoroughly as a cop. I heard all his bragging. What you didn’t know what that my phone recorded his every word.”

She smiled, shaking her head.
“You have it all!”

“And Markos’s every damning word.”

He couldn’t help it. He needed to touch her, to know she was okay. He stepped closer and rubbed her upper arms.
“You don’t know how afraid I was last night that I’d lost you. When I heard that gunshot in the boat shed…” The memory clogged his throat, and he couldn’t go on.

She pressed her hands flat on his chest, but the reason worried him. He didn’t know if she was moving closer or pushing him away. “I—”

He shook his head to stop her words. “No, it’s all over now. This nightmare brought us together, and it’s given us a new beginning. Even when I thought you left me, you were embedded in my heart, part of me. I love you more than ever. I can’t lose you now.”

She averted her gaze and pulled away, walking to the kitchen. She glanced out the window, possibly looking for her ride, then went to the sink. She picked up a dish towel.

He let her fidget, but she would hear him out. She had to. “At first, I didn’t believe we had a chance together. But the past doesn’t have to govern our future. We’re not the dumb kids we were ten years ago. What we have now is deeper, not a thin-layered infatuation to be easily pared away.”

He could see she was fighting tears as she put away the plates from the dish drainer. Anything to keep busy. He knew the feeling.

She turned to face him, her eyes bleak. “Yes, I’m glad we could put the misunderstandings and judgments of the past to rest. But are friendship and intimacy enough?”

“Intimacy. That’s an understatement. Between us there’s magnetism I’ve never felt with anyone else, and more fire than in that blaze last night. I want you more than I believed it was possible to want a woman. When I saw you last night all bruised and wet, I wanted to hoist you over my shoulder and carry you off to my cave, bad guys or not.”

“Cole, don’t.” She clasped her hands together. Her tortured gaze roamed his body, as if drinking in her last sight of him.

He had to convince her to cease lying to herself. “I saw the crown charm on your bureau. You kept it all these years and even brought it with you when you fled for your life. You’re wearing it.”

Her hand flew to the chain at her neck.

A black limousine pulled up outside. The uniformed driver stepped around it and opened the rear door.

She turned away from Cole. “My ride is here. But I need to tell you something first.”

Desperation was burning a hole in him. Fear set it aflame. He scrubbed at his chin scar. “What is it?”

Laura twisted her hands together. She had to calm herself and get control before she began. “It’s about the tennis lessons with my community center girls.”

Unshaven and sexy, he was so strong, so confident and rugged in his black T-shirt and jeans. Except for the reddened skin on one side of his face and the white bandage on his upper arm, he looked invincible.
His nearly dying had forced her to reexamine her heart and her fears. She had to make him understand what she’d figured out during the long night. She couldn’t blame her white night on nightmares.

Only on squandered dreams.

Her heart pounded against her rib cage, fluttered like a wounded bird and sank. Regret was an ache in her chest so huge she could barely breathe.
She prayed he’d give her this last chance.

“The ghetto kids,” he said, his brow furrowed into a fierce glare. His hands clenched and unclenched. He looked ready to pounce.

A nervous laugh bubbled up. “I want to tell you the lesson they taught me. I finally learned it because of you. Do you remember Jamila and Desirée?”

“Is Desirée the one who wants to be Serena Williams?”

“That’s Tanisha. Desirée has trouble at home, and Jamila’s gangster brother keeps bringing trouble home. For a while last year, both girls went to live with Jamila’s grandmother, who already cares for two others. Only Jamila is the old lady’s blood relative.”

He edged forward, his blue gaze riveting her. “And what did you learn from that?”

She drew a deep breath.
Here goes nothing. Or everything.
“The grandmother tells the children she takes in that they’re her family now, that love is thicker than blood. Jamila said she read it in an advice blog. Waiting for you to come in last night, I had a long time to think, and I remembered. That saying is like what you tried to tell me — love, not blood makes a family.”

Cole headed toward her.

“No, let me finish. I’ve made a terrible mistake, and it may be too late. I need to say this. So you understand.”

Ignoring her protest, he cupped her shoulders in his cool hands. His gaze roamed over her features. The emotion in the depths sent fire racing across her nerve endings. “Say what you have to say, but I need to hold you while you say it.”

His familiar scent filtered into her senses. She swallowed and had to look away from his mesmerizing gaze. “I should have seen it before. Bearing children hasn’t made Desirée’s mother a good parent. You were more parent to your dad than he was to you.”

“Mine was definitely a dysfunctional family. But I understand your blindness. I can’t feel what you suffered, are still suffering. You couldn’t see through your pain.” He kissed her temple.

She sighed at the warm support his lips conveyed. “And my pride. I should have given you more credit for your capacity to love and for changing from the youth of ten years ago. You love Marisol and the other orphans you help. I planned to adopt, as a single parent, but I never—”

“Shh, sweetheart. You were grief-stricken at losing a baby, then at learning you could never have another. And being in fear for your life skews all perspective.” He skimmed a finger lightly as a feather across her cheek. “Let me help, Laura. Let me love you.”

Tears welled in her burning eyes. She cupped a hand on his unshaven jaw. “Oh, Cole, I’m sorry I hurt you so badly. I love you so much.”

He pressed her close so she basked in his heat and strength, felt his passion against her belly. His lips claimed hers, and the world ceased to exist. Salty tears seeping from beneath squeezed lids, she answered his tender assault with hungering lips and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What hurt me was what hurt you. We can heal each other. Tell me you’ll marry me.” He lifted her up and carried her to the sofa. Cradling her in his lap, he stroked her hair and down her back.
“Zuh taso muhabbam.”

“That’s not Spanish. More Pashto? What is it this time?”

“I love you.”

“Zuh taso muhabbam.”
She clutched at his shirtfront, desperate to believe this wasn’t a dream. In his eyes, she saw faith and honesty and trust. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him with all the relief and happiness whirling through her. “And the baby? You forgive me for keeping that secret from you for so long?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You had no reason to trust me. God, I love you,” he murmured against her mouth. He grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “But you still haven’t said you’ll marry me. I’m dying here.”

“Cole, I love you. You’re my other half. I love your self-made success, your protectiveness and your honor. You helped me overcome my guilt and pride. Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

He beamed a jubilant smile. “Thank God.” He kissed her again, gliding his hands over her breasts. “I need to feel you against me. How can I get you out of these jeans?”

A knock sounded at the door.

The limo driver. Her eyes widened in horror.

“What the hell?”

A giggle erupted as she pushed away from him. “Wait a minute.” She whisked outside and dismissed the driver. Her father would understand. He had to. She wasn’t leaving without Cole. Ever again.

When she returned, he was waiting for her on the couch. Desire rippled through her when he stripped away her jeans and wrenched off his shirt.