Dark Deceptions (8 page)

“Well, you’re going to have to do better than that,” he said, exasperation coloring his tone. “If not with me then with Avery
and Tom.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to any of you.”

“It’s not like you can make it go away, Annie. You had your sights on Dominico. I saw you. And even if I were inclined to
look the other way, Tyler saw it, too. As well as four different security cameras.”

“I haven’t denied anything,” she said, searching the room for other ways out. The door wasn’t locked, but Nash’s partner was
out there. Given the right circumstances, Annie might be able to take the woman, but first she’d have to make it past Nash.
Not impossible odds, but she’d need to find the right moment. Preferably before reinforcements arrived. She blew out a breath
and forced herself to focus on what Nash was saying.

“You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble, Annie. There’s no getting around it. And the only thing you can do to help yourself
is to tell us what you know. Help us catch the bastards behind this.”

And kill her son in the process.

She shook her head, sequestering her emotions. “How do you know I wasn’t working on my own?”

“Because we know you met with Emanuel Rivon several days ago,” Nash said, his eyes narrowing. “And that he’s been meeting
with known associates of Ashad.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework,” she said, stalling while she tried to gauge the distance between the window and the
door.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he said, moving closer, his eyes narrowed, “but I’m really good at what I do.”

“How could I possibly have forgotten?” The tension in the room ratcheted up another level. “You put your job before everything
else.”

“At least I know how to follow through on what I start.”

They were standing inches apart, their anger tying them together in a way their love affair clearly never had. And in that
moment, Annie knew this was her best chance. Probably her only one. Without giving herself the time to analyze further, she
clasped her hands and swung upward, her fists connecting with Nash’s chin. He staggered backward as she followed through with
a knee to the groin, his gasp of pain indicating she’d hit target.

Taking advantage of his momentary disorientation, she sprinted for the door, wrenching it open and stepping onto the brownstone’s
landing. Stairs extended in both directions, but Tyler’s voice carrying from below meant that “up” was the better option.
Praying that there’d be some kind of access to the roof, she headed for the third floor.

Below her, his anger erupting in expletives, Nash burst through the door and started after her. With only seconds separating
them, she increased her pace, her attention focused on the landing above her.

Then, without warning, the stairs curved abruptly and in her haste, she stumbled, grabbing for the railing. Her last-minute
handhold kept her from falling, but the mistake cost her valuable time. Nash quickly closed the distance between them, his
fingers tightening on her wrist as he yanked her to a stop.

Reacting on instinct, she whipped around, shoving hard against his chest, then wrenched away, fleeing up the remaining steps,
fighting against the urge to turn and make sure that he was okay.

Whatever he might have once been to her, he was her enemy now. A major obstacle to freeing Adam.

She hit the top of the staircase and moved quickly onto the landing, searching for some way to exit. There were rooms opening
off to her right and left, but there was no time to explore. She might have slowed Nash, but she certainly hadn’t stopped
him. Fighting against panic, she searched the hallway, relieved when she spotted a ladder and the outline of a trap door at
the far end.

Sprinting now, she raced forward, praying that the ladder led to the roof and not the brownstone’s attic or some forgotten
crawl space, but knowing that either way, she had to make it work. Taking the rungs two at a time, she reached the top just
as she heard Nash hit the landing.

“Annie,” he called, his tone deceptively calm. “You’re wasting your time. There’s no way out.”

“There’s always a way out,” she called back as she pushed the trap door wide. “You taught me that.” In seconds, she was up
and through the opening.

But instead of blue sky, she was greeted with dusty gray walls. Which meant she was still trapped.

Damn it all to hell.

With a sigh of frustration, she slammed the trap door back into place, shoving a rotting old crate over it in an effort to
keep Nash out. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it might buy her enough time to figure a way out.

The room was small, the walls lined with insulation. A small window at the far end was the only source of light. She searched
the ceiling for signs of another opening out onto the roof, but there was nothing visible. Cursing her luck, she ran for the
window as Nash slammed into the trap door from below, the crate listing drunkenly in response.

It wouldn’t be long before he managed to break through her makeshift barrier.

The window was cracked and grimy. A quick search of the sash and sill yielded no sign of security. She tried to yank it open,
but age and weather had lodged it firmly into place. Behind her the crate slid forward as the wood and metal trap door slammed
into the floor.

Wrapping the bottom of her T-shirt around her hand, Annie punched out the glass, relieved to see a rickety ladder extending
upward from a grated metal walkway just outside the window. Slipping through the opening, she pulled herself out onto the
ledge, heart pounding as she listened for the sound of Nash’s footsteps as he crossed the floor of the attic.

Instead silence reigned. It could be a trick, but she wasn’t about to wait to find out. Better to keep moving. Without bothering
to test stability, she scrambled up the ladder, relieved when it held her weight.

At the top, two curved iron railings provided final access over the wall that bordered the roof. Grasping each side, she pulled
herself up and over the ledge, landing in a crouch.

“What took you so long?” Nash asked, his smile cold as she pushed upright, already moving in retreat. Behind him, an open
doorway signaled a second entrance to the rooftop. She must have missed it in her cursory examination of the hallway and attic.
“I told you it was pointless to try to run.”

“You always did underestimate me,” she snapped as she reached behind her for the railing. Pushing off with her feet, she flipped
backward, her intent to regain the ladder she’d just left. But Nash was faster, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her
back onto the roof, the effort sending them both sprawling.

Gravel dug into her back, and she swore as she tried to push her way free. “Let go of me.”

“Not on your life,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “This isn’t a game, Annie. And even if it were, you’ll remember I’m
not big on losing.”

“I remember a lot of things,” she said, twisting left, slamming her knee up into his gut. He grunted in pain, and she pulled
herself free, scrambling to her knees, only to have him tackle her again.

They rolled across the rooftop, each trying to gain the upper hand. They’d sparred like this hundreds of times over the years.
Each with their share of wins. But this time the stakes were much higher. This time her son’s life was at risk.

She pushed off, trying for leverage, but only managed to lose her grip, Nash flipping them so that he straddled her. His face
was flushed, his breathing coming in gasps. “When did I become the enemy, Annie?”

“When you let me go,” she whispered, the words coming of their own accord.

He frowned, the pain in his eyes a reflection of the ache in her heart. With gentle fingers he pushed the hair from her face,
and she turned away, not willing to explore the emotions coursing through her. There was too much time between them. Too much
hurt.

“You all right?” Tyler asked, appearing in the rooftop doorway, her gun serving only to increase the tension between them.

“I’m fine. Everything’s under control,” Nash said, his grip tightening.

Tyler surveyed the situation and nodded. “Avery’s downstairs. With Walker. I figured you’d just as soon him not find you up
here—like this.”

“You figured right.” Nash pushed to his feet, then reached down to pull Annie up. “We’re coming,” he said, his fingers locking
around her arm.

Tyler nodded, moving back to give them access to the stairwell, her gun still trained on Annie. Nash held his ground, his
dark gaze giving away nothing. Annie shivered, but refused to look away. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, a tiny
muscle in his jaw the only sign of emotion. “We used to be on the same side.”

“Yeah, well, things change,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“I don’t buy it. There’s something else going on. I can see it in your eyes. Come on, Annie, you used to tell me everything.”

“That was a hell of a long time ago,” she whispered, her thoughts tumbling over each other. After all these years, he was
here. With her. And in so many ways, it felt the same. And yet it couldn’t be. If for no other reason than the lies that lay
between them.

Hers.

His.

They were unavoidable. And she’d be a fool to believe him now.

“Annie, whatever it is—you can tell me.” His eyebrow raised in question, the gesture so familiar she wanted to cry.

She swallowed, her heart pounding so loud that she was certain he could hear it. Maybe she was a fool. Or maybe she was just
desperate. Either way she was certain there would be a price to pay. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d blown her chance
at escape. Which meant that Adam’s only chance now was for her to come clean.

At least in part.

“I didn’t agree to kill Dominico for money. Or for political reasons.” She swallowed, praying she was doing the right thing.
“I did it because they have my son.”

S
o you’re telling us that Ashad has your son.” Avery frowned from his perch on the arm of a chair. “And that’s why you agreed
to take out Dominico.”

“I don’t know who has him,” Annie said, the line of her shoulders defiant. “Rivon refused to say. And he’s been my main contact.”

Nash watched the proceedings with caged emotion. There were so many questions he wanted answered, none of them having anything
at all to do with Ashad. He should have asked her on the stairs. Made her spell out the truth. But Tyler had intervened, insisting
that any further conversation occur downstairs.

With Avery and Tom.

She’d been right, of course, but that hadn’t stopped Nash from wanting to shake the truth out of Annie anyway.

“So why didn’t you bring this to us in the first place?” Tom asked.

“You already know the answer to that,” she said, her jaw tightening as she watched him warily. “Under the circumstances, I
wasn’t exactly discharged with honor. I wasn’t burned, but I’m definitely persona non grata. I had no reason to believe after
all this time that anyone would lift a finger to help me. Besides, I was warned against bringing in outside help.”

“So you decided to handle it yourself,” Nash said, his anger making his words sharper than he’d intended.

“I didn’t have a choice. My son comes first.”

“There’s always a choice, Annie.” But she’d never really seen that. Never trusting anyone. Always believing she was better
off on her own.

“Yes, but you had to know that Ashad was a top priority.” Avery frowned, pulling the conversation away from emotional land
mines.

“I already told you that I didn’t know it was Ashad. And if I had, it would have been even more reason not to bring in outside
help, because I knew that any involvement on a national scale would mean emphasis on taking out the people behind the kidnapping,
not on rescuing my son.”

“How old is he?” Nash asked, surprised at himself for interjecting the question.

She shifted so that her eyes met his, her jaw tightening at the implication of the question. “He just turned six.”

Disappointment mixed with relief, the latter edging out the former by only the smallest bit. Annie had a child.

And it wasn’t his.

“What about the father?” From his peripheral vision, Nash could see Tom frown. These weren’t the questions he should be asking,
but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Not in the picture.” Annie’s words were terse, her anger evident as she looked first at Tom and then back at him.

“You didn’t think he had the right to know?” Again the words came of their own volition, the subtext hanging heavily between
them.

Annie’s laugh was bitter. “I don’t think that’s really any of your business. You lost all say in my life a long time ago.”

“I’m not questioning your decisions, Annie. I’m asking if the father is around.”

“No. He isn’t.”

“So there’s no chance that he’s a part of this?” Nash asked, scrambling to pull the conversation onto more stable ground.

“Absolutely none.” She narrowed her eyes, anger making her cheeks flush. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured automatically.

“Don’t be,” she snapped. “Turns out he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

“I see.” Silence stretched between them, the others in the room seeming, for the moment, to have disappeared.

“I think,” Tom said, clearing his throat to break through the building tension, “that we’ve gotten a bit off track. What’s
past is past. There’s no need to rehash it here.” He paused, his eyes dropping to Annie, and Nash frowned as something passed
between the two of them.

He started to object, but Tyler cut him off. “The key here is for us to figure out who’s behind this and stop them.”

“The
key
is to find my son,” Annie snapped, her lips compressed with anger.

“That’s not your call,” Tom said. “You pulled yourself out of the equation when you decided to act on your own.”

“The hell I did.” She rose to her feet, every muscle in her body ready for a fight.

“Again, we’ve gotten off point.” Avery’s voice was deceptively calm, but Nash recognized the tone. “Our task was to neutralize
Ms. Gallagher and trace the plot to its source. I see no reason we can’t make rescuing the boy part of finding the culprits.”