Endless Night (17 page)

“True,” Jake conceded. “But your issues are so much more interesting than mine.”

Megan knew he was teasing her, and it felt good, remarkably good
.
She rolled her eyes, for one moment trying to spin humor on the despair of her life.

“I could do without the intrigue in my life, thank you very much.”

Impulsively, she touched his hand and felt her stomach take a plunge as he flipped his palm up and linked his fingers with hers.

“So.” Megan cleared her throat, but her voice still came out husky. “My original question. Are you okay?” Boldly she looked into his eyes. “You deserved to tap some of that bottle. I could have driven.”

Jake chuckled quietly, his gaze dropping to their entwined hands. “Yeah, me and my cuz—just a couple good ole boys hanging out, downing a fifth of scotch.”

His laugh never fully materialized. In fact, any hint of joviality left Jake’s expression, and now the dark shadows of the encroaching night besieged him. “I’m sad, Megan. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I want to hear what hurts right here.” Without considering the move, she splayed her palm against his heart. Beneath her hand its beat seemed to accelerate.

Before she could retract her touch, Jake reached up and ensnared her wrist in his grip. His gaze was riddled with angst, but something deeper smoldered there, an emotion she couldn’t quite identify.

“Meg.” He clutched her hand tighter against his chest. Solid muscles cushioned her palm, and instinctively her fingers flexed into his sweater. “There’s a lot going on right there,” he said.

“It’s not all pain you know.”

She swallowed. She couldn’t find her voice.

Jake continued, “But the pain—well, it’s hard to comprehend it all. I will find my answers. What John doesn’t know—what Coop isn’t aware of, I’ll still find my answers.”

“But Estelle—”

“I know. She may not understand me, and I certainly don’t want to jeopardize her health—so true, she’s not going to be too helpful. But dammit, Meg, I don’t just want to know about my parents’ heartache. I want to know about the happiness. It had to have been there.” He nearly pleaded, “I need to know that. Tell me if it sounds ridiculous.”

Tears inched behind Megan’s eyes. “Of course that’s not ridiculous. You were conceived in love. That is the common link between everyone’s stories. You have to believe in that.”

Jake gave her a smile that made her heart labor.

“Thanks.” He hesitated. “You know—”

“Oh my God!”
With a yelp of shock, Megan’s head dove down and her chin crashed into Jake’s lap.

“Whoa.” Jake stared down at the shiny crown of hair and couldn’t resist touching it. “If you wanted to take my mind off things—well—” He coughed. “This’ll sure do it.”

In his lap, Megan groaned and writhed in fear, her head turning so that her cheek rested on his thigh and she peeked up at him with one wild eye.

“Jake.” The insistent whisper was enough to unnerve him. “Look at the man who just came out of the diner.”

Without the benefit of the wipers, the windshield was nearly blotted by a fine sheen of sleet and snow. Still, there were enough grooves in the milky veil to notice the exceptionally tall man in a black trench coat walking briskly toward them. His head was down, tucked into an upturned collar, as dirty blond tendrils of hair whipped in a cyclone atop his skull. He moved with an awkward gait, or it could simply be the nature of maneuvering on the ice with ungainly limbs.

“He’s coming right at us.” Instinctively, he covered Megan’s head with his wide hand and tensed as the figure loomed on the curb. “Who is he?”

It was impossible to see the face clearly with the streetlight behind him, but it definitely wasn’t Gordon Fortran. This man was young, with bulbous cheeks and a nose that was flat and spanned a good portion of his face. There was no denying the height factor as even stooped forward, the man towered over six feet.

“It’s the ‘Jones’ boy,” Megan hissed into his lap. “Remember the father-son duo I walked in on in Gordon’s office?” When she heard no response, Megan added in a frantic whisper, “I have no doubt that Gordon rigged a scholarship for this kid.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jake whispered through tight lips. “Shhh, he’s right here.”

Despite the warning, Megan struggled beneath his hand. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Easy, he’s not looking at us. He’s looking at his watch. Now at the street. Now at the watch.” Jake searched down the vacant thoroughfare of Victory Cove. Only a few empty cars were parked diagonally against the curb before the diner. He sat back, edgy. “He’s looking at his cell phone.”

“Oh my God,” came the wrenched moan from his lap.

The stranger shoved the phone back in his pocket and corrected his posture and Jake calculated that the man capped seven feet. In a town that looked like it should flank a train set under a Christmas tree, this man stuck out like a giraffe at a ferret farm. His hands were deep in his pockets, drawing the overcoat tight as he tipped his head back again to look up at the snow. Jake could clearly see his features now. The hooded eyes intimated an Eastern European appearance—as they might say in O’Flanagan’s,
“Mister, you ain’t from these parts, are ya?”

“He’s young and looks awkward.” Jake reached for the door handle.

Megan nearly surged up, but his insistent hand kept her concealed. “Are you crazy?” she
cried.

Jones started to walk away, toward the intersection where Victory Cove’s solitary traffic light pulsed a needless yellow signal.

“Are
you
crazy?” Jake spoke to the one eye that was staring up at him. “I’m not one who’s big on irony either. If this is one of the men you saw in Gordon’s office, I doubt he’s here vacationing.” Jake’s hand curled up into a light fist in her hair, an impulsive gesture of frustration and protection for this woman.

“We have to call the police. Megan, this can’t go on. The police have to get involved. This guy is here for a reason.” Rage welled up inside Jake. “And it kills me to know it’s for you.”

“I can’t do it, Jake,” Megan cried into his lap. “The police will not stop Gordon.
I
have to.” Her head was shaking back and forth. “I
know
it.” In a solemn whisper, she pleaded, “Please take me home. It’s the only place where I know how to be safe.”

“Dammit.” Fear for her ate at him. He kept trying to convince himself this was too extraordinary to be true, but now there was a seven-foot validation walking around the streets of Victory Cove.

“How can you ask me to do that?” he demanded. “This is insane. You are not a victim. You are not a criminal. You witnessed something you should have never seen, but it should have not been
your
death sentence. The law is on your side, Meg.”

Megan pushed up against his hand, and this time Jake sat back and let her rise. The Jones guy was long gone.

“I have to handle this,” she challenged. “
I
have to finish what started that night. I have to do it my way so that I can get my life back in the hope that maybe someday I can share it with someone.”

The words rang somber in the confines of the Jeep. Jake stared at the street corner around which Jones disappeared. He waited for a pair of headlights to emerge, but there was nothing except the mist of churning snow, like a ghost just before it shaped into something tangible.

As if it belonged to someone else, Jake’s hand rose to the ignition. He didn’t look at his passenger. He couldn’t look into the eyes that were full of fear and regret over a situation that had bounded out of her control. Jake turned the keys and heard the engine purr.

“You know he’s on his way to Wakefield House.” This time he turned toward her.

“Then we have to beat him.”

A jerk of his wrist and the wipers kicked into motion. With a final assessing glance and a quick glimpse at the rearview mirror, Jake threw the jeep into Reverse. “Meg,
I
will go to Wakefield. I’ll drop you off at O’Flanagan’s. You can stay in my room. You’ll be safe there.”

“No.” The resolve in her tone was nonnegotiable.

There would be no denying her. This was going to happen. It had been preordained long before he came into the picture. All Jake knew was that he wanted to be with Megan, no matter what the battle was. He knew he wanted this woman in his life, even if she was a challenge; he wanted her at his side. And if it meant chasing down a giant psycho hit man in the middle of a wicked nor’easter, well hell, he would do it.

Before Megan could even expel the protest that was dangling on the end of her tongue, he reached over, squeezed her thigh and managed a wink. “You better hold on.”

Considering the inclement weather and the fact that Megan’s hand was latched around his arm like a rudder in the water, they made it to the bridge at record pace. At the boundary of the unstable structure, their progress halted. In the high beams, Jake stared at the crooked planks sheathed in ice and voiced his skepticism.

“I’m gonna be honest here. I don’t think we can make it over that without sliding into the gully.”

The pressure on his arm let up as Megan leaned forward, the silhouette of her face a cameo of conviction. “We can leave the Jeep here and walk the rest of the way.”

One thing was for sure, his Megan was one damn obstinate creature. Jake grinned. He liked the sound of that
. His Megan.

“Well at least we know he isn’t here yet.” Suspicion left a bitter tang to his voice. “There are no tread marks.”

She didn’t answer. She just looked at him with that silent plea in those oh-so large eyes, like a child waiting for the training wheels to come off. Scared and determined.

Jake groaned. “This is a terrible idea.” He sensed no capitulation and added, “Okay dammit, tighten that belt.”

With a zeal that scared him, Megan cinched the belt tighter and grabbed his arm with one hand and clutched the door handle with the other, nodding that she was ready. “Let’s do it.”

He shook his head. For the second time that week he doubted his sanity. The tires dug in on the frozen mud, but the instant they made contact with the bridge he felt his control slip. They spun uselessly, and the Jeep’s back end started to slide into the uneven angle of the bridge. Jake compensated by turning the front wheels in that direction and tapping the gas. The vehicle responded and lurched forward, and miraculously bit into the turf on the other side.

“I knew you could do it,” Megan whispered, though the hand on his arm trembled.

A puff of withheld air rushed across his lips as he scanned the rearview mirror for any trace of headlights. The hills and the godforsaken bridge had already faded into a sinister vapor of snowfall and night.

“I appreciate your faith in me.”

To his surprise, Megan loosened her seat belt, leaned across the armrest and reached up to kiss his cheek. He felt her gloved hand scrape his jaw, a soft trace, and then it was gone.

In the midst of a snow storm, with the Jones Giant and his broken nose on their tail, Jake smiled.

As the front door shut behind her, and the definitive click of the deadbolt slipped into place, Megan felt some sense of control return. But tonight, as she stood rooted in the foyer and scanned the darkened chambers flanking her, she felt the portent of danger like an animal trapped in the house, breathing deep, waiting to pounce. Quickly, she reached for the light switch.

A miniature chandelier lit up the foyer in a dull yellow haze. Megan charged to the antique hutch and wrenched open the top drawer. Her gloved hand slipped around the barrel of the gun, but without the bitter sting of steel against flesh, she did not feel that she commanded power over the device. She ripped the glove off and clamped her palm around the GLOCK.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Jake watching her.

“How many of those do you have hiding in this old house?”

“Two. One upstairs. One downstairs. Probably not enough, don’t you think?”

Jake took a step and reached up to cup her cheek in his palm. His hand was still cold, but it seemed to warm on contact. That touch then slipped to her shoulder and around her back as he
used the motion to pull her into his embrace. She could feel his lips in her hair as he whispered, “I think you’ve been living in hell this past year, and I wish I had been here for you.”

The words were sincere. Megan squeezed her eyes shut to lock out the emotions they evoked. This was not the time for these feelings to besiege her. It was crippling her power and yet she craved his words and his touch.

“What a mess I’ve dragged you into.” Her voice was muffled as she burrowed into his collar. “I wanted to keep you out of it. Jake, I don’t want you to get hurt.” No matter how tightly she squeezed, tears threatened to seep through.

A warm finger tucked under her chin and gently lifted her head. She was lost in a medley of gold.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t.” Jake kissed the top of her head and whispered something so soft she couldn’t even make it out.

“What?”

“Hmm, nothing.”

She stared at the arch of Jake’s throat as he tipped his head back to look at the tarnished crystals of the chandelier.

“You’re pretty attuned to this place in the dark, aren’t you?” When his eyes dropped down to hers, they smoldered with the recollection of wild passion in the black corridor above.

“Yes.” She swallowed.

Jake’s glance remained fixed on her lips.

“Then I propose…” his whisper was rough as he reached behind and flicked off the switch, swathing them in darkness, “…that we use this to our advantage.”

Before she could respond, Megan felt Jake’s mouth on hers. His lips caressed and coaxed her open so that he could sweep inside with languid brushes. She made a sound of surprise and rampant desire, but the hedonistic pleasure stopped as abruptly as it started.

“Dammit, Meg. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “But now isn’t quite the time for that, is it? If I kiss you, a marching band could waltz through here and I won’t even hear them, and I need to be sharp.”

This man could take her from the pits of despair and spin her nerves into vessels of passion with one fevered brush of his mouth. He was right, they needed to be sharp.

“Right.” She coughed. “Sharp.” Megan felt the weight of the gun in her hand. It sobered her instantly.

“Will you let me hold on to that?” His voice sounded from the dark.

“Do you know how to fire it?”

“Probably not as good as you.”

As much as she despised the weapon, Megan wasn’t ready to give it up. She shook her head no and said, “So what now? We just sit here and wait him out?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for a year?”

That the accusation was true saddened her. “I’m going to the cellar.”

A scrape of a boot and the familiar rustle of Jake’s jacket meant that he was quick on her heels. Behind her, she heard him ask, “And what weapon do you have hiding down there, a cannon?”

Familiarity was like a suit of armor. The dark was her ally. Though she could not see it, Megan walked up to the cellar doorway and hit the hidden handle on the first try. Even with her sheepskin jacket, she could feel the assault of cold air rushing up from the stairwell. For most, the basement was a dwelling for childhood monsters, but for her, the dark was her friend and this
cellar was her refuge.

“Careful,” she commanded as she swapped the gun into her left hand so she could reach for the banister. “Hold on to the railing, and when I say skip a step—listen to me.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

The humor in Jake’s voice seemed strained. She sensed his trepidation, but began her descent nonetheless.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
“Okay, skip the next step. You’re one away from the bottom.”

Megan heard the heavy tread of Jake’s boot as it landed on the solid basement floor. Two more strides and she reached the shelves lining the wall, her hand skimming their surface until it found her most valuable commodity—a flashlight.

A jerk of her thumb switched the beam on. In its path she saw Jake squint and hoist his hand above his eyes. His body relaxed and he fell in beside her.

“Okay, Miss Summers, or Ms. Simmons, you have my curiosity piqued. What are we doing?”

Megan swung the beam back toward the shelf and down to a box on the floor. Half of its innards had been piled neatly outside of it, but the two-foot-high cardboard container still held plenty of envelopes.

“We could stand upstairs and wait until we go crazy,” she offered. “Or we could do something productive in the meantime, and read through more of Gabrielle’s notes.”

Down here, in a chamber where the storm was so far recessed, noise was limited to the sounds of their mingled breaths. Megan heard Jake’s hitch. Maybe she’d made a mistake. She thought that he might want this. To read more. To learn more. But maybe the pain was too fresh.

An apology was on the tip of her tongue when he said in a reverent whisper, “I’d like that.”

Before her stood a man who was confident in his career, confident in life, but she sensed the wonderment and urgency of a young boy in search of his family. Her heart ached for that boy, and she loved the man.

“Good.” She cleared her throat, which sounded loud after their hushed exchange. “Also, down here we can keep the flashlight on. No one can see it. There are no windows.” She crossed her arms and looked around, nodding in thought. “I know because I’ve tried leaving it on to see if I could see it upstairs, under the cellar door.”

“Freak.” Jake shook his head and chuckled.

When she didn’t smile, he hastened on, “Listen to me.” He took a step and cupped both her shoulders. “I have come to admire and envy your skills. When they ask me that question,
Who would you want to be trapped in a bunker with?
there is no doubt I’d want you at my side.”

He looked beyond her shoulder up the staircase, but could see no farther than the tenth step before it merged with the shadows. “You’ve put so much effort into self-preservation. Most people would be weak. It scares the hell out of me, Megan, knowing you were here alone every night—waiting.”

She touched him. Traced his unshaven jaw, which might look dark and intimidating in this dim light, but to her signified strength.

“You’re here now.” Her thumb dropped and brushed against his lip, but his face began to fade.

“Dammit,” she cried as the flashlight beam waned. “The only spare batteries I have down here are C’s and this monster takes D’s.”

“No problem.” Jake reached down into his pocket.

“You carry batteries?”

“No.” His smile was vague in the limited light. “Can you find the spare C?”

Megan reached toward the wall and skimmed her hand along the shelf till her fingers wrapped around a cylindrical battery. She handed it over to Jake’s expectant hand.

“Hold on a sec, I have to swap this out.”

“But—” She was doused in a complete abyss until magically the flashlight grew bright again.

“How’d you do that?” She stared in awe at the device, and then in greater awe at the man holding it.

“Quarters. Three quarters plus a C battery equal a D.” He shrugged. “It won’t last as long, but it’ll do for now.”

Her head shook. “Why weren’t you here when the electricians told me I’d never be able to install an alarm in this house?”

“The wiring
is
pretty bad here, Meg.”

“No matter.” She smiled. “Now we have light, let’s go read about your parents’ romance.”

Under the muted glow of the flashlight, Jake watched her. His expression changed. His eyes were ablaze from the glow. The effect made her yearn to be inside him, to be a part of that combustion.

His voice grew throaty when he said, “Would now be the wrong time to tell you that I’m falling in love with you?”

An internal vacuum began to suck up her organs, taking her lungs first so that she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling that overwhelmed her the most was an uncanny sense of safety
. Safe.
Such a foreign sensation and yet it arrived at a time that she was in the greatest jeopardy. Of all the mistakes she had made in her life, what one thing did she do right to bring Jake onto her doorstep?

“Now is a good time,” she managed.

Jake watched her. For what seemed an eternity, he did not move. Under the suede jacket she could see his shoulders tense. A pulse beat on the side of his throat as his hand rose and cupped her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered with a reverence that made Megan’s body tremble.

“I—” It was all there. Every single emotion was in her heart and it was with such great relief that she sought to pour it out.

“So.” The warmth of his palm dropped. “Let’s dive into those letters, shall we.”

Why had he cut her off? Was he afraid of her response? Afraid that the feelings weren’t reciprocated? Even at this moment, his wavy dark hair was stooped over a letter, as if he dare not look at her and expose his vulnerability.

Megan smiled. She got it now. From everything Jake had told her during their night vigils, he was not a man to succumb to love. Women in the past condemned him for that. They tried to demand a connection from him, and still he held steadfast to his ways, choosing love of his work over commitment to the opposite sex.

Here, tonight, Jake just admitted to something that must have come as quite a shock to himself. He exposed vulnerability and he was probably sitting there right now, berating himself for ever opening his mouth.

“Jake.” Megan looked down at him and waited till his neck craned around and those smoky amber eyes glanced up at her. God they were beautiful. Like running through a field of
wheat into a golden sunset.

“I love you, too.”

Those captivating eyes produced a heat to warm this dank cellar. Beneath dark lashes, he watched her like a creature of the night, and he pounced with the same strength and agility as a sinuous beast.

Megan was caught up in his embrace before she sensed he had even moved. Her lips were stolen by his as she gasped and opened to an invasion of pleasure. If the world came to an end, she would forever be grateful for this moment. Her arms surged around Jake’s neck, the gun forgotten on a nearby shelf. She returned each one of his hungry kisses and felt the message he was trying to convey with this tight embrace.

When words might have failed, Jake’s touch said it all.

“How did this happen?” He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“If ever there were two people
not
looking for love,” she chuckled, “it would probably be us, huh?”

“Damn right. I don’t have time for this crap.” He smiled into her neck before he dropped a kiss there.

“I want you,” he murmured against her flesh.