“You should have let me cover this,” I muttered, stroking the fading red signs on his jaw.
Marcus looked down at me and growled, just like he had done when I had determinedly walked up to him earlier at the forest house with concealer in one hand and a blender in the other.
“Men don’t wear makeup,” he grunted.
“You’d be surprised,” I laughed.
He shivered and wrinkled his nose, acting adorably willful. Unable to contain myself, I rose on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to a small, pinkish scar under his jaw, right where his pulse thrummed the most hypnotic songs of all. I surrendered to him completely, and like everything else Marcus did, he twirled me around, then caught me between strong arms with graceful ease and innate firmness.
I had been so enthralled by Marcus and so deeply attuned to him, with my head resting against his heart and my hands randomly caressing his jaw and the nape of his neck that I had to do a double take before I recognized the red-haired silhouette that slinked at the skirts of the crowd. I knew she had realized that I had seen her when emerald irises stood out against the glistening white of her eyes.
“Elana,” I breathed, the word drowned out as the song reached its peak and Lara Fabian’s voice boomed through the speakers.
“What was that?” Marcus asked.
The faraway smile in his gaze shattered as I disentangled my arms from his neck and hurriedly stepped away.
“Charlotte, where are you going? The ceremony is about to begin.”
“I’ll be right back,” I told him, placating his advance with a gesture of my hand. “Wait here.”
He tried to follow, but the movement was too fast and too brusque, and although he had never complained, his leg was still hurting after the debacle at the races. He winced, and his hand darted to clasp his thigh as he pinned me with knitted brows and questioning eyes.
I hated to leave him like that in the middle of the crowd, taking advantage of his injury, but if he learned of my intentions, he would have never let me follow the woman who was making a fast escape down the emergency stairs.
I discarded my stilettos right before taking the emergency exit then ran after her as fast as my bare feet could carry me. The blood in my body seemed to have gathered in my skull where it created a tempest that beat against the confines of bone and flesh and made it impossible to hear anything except its maddening, relentless pounding.
“Elana, wait,” I shouted.
She halted in the middle of the corridor, and only after she hesitantly turned around, I slowed down my pace and allowed myself a full unsteady breath. I had anticipated this meeting for weeks now and had considered so many questions that I was sure she had the answer to, but now, face to face with Elana Beckham, I could only stare and wonder why she had followed me here.
My heart twitched uncomfortably in my chest, but I convinced myself the only cause for that was Marcus’s absence. I had grown to depend on his protection, and for some reason, the thought didn’t seem as bothersome as it used to. When you loved, you had to offer protection as well as know when to seek and accept it from your significant other.
“Elana, please, talk to me,” I pressed and inched a step closer.
She looked around uncertainly, but thankfully, she didn’t flee. I nodded encouragingly, taking yet another step closer, and gauged her appearance. She wore the Exterus staff uniform, which looked a size or two bigger than her slender frame.
She had dark strawberry blonde hair and green eyes that were loaded with trepidation. She seemed a little too pale and a little too raw-boned to be traditionally beautiful, but she had a reserved appeal about her that made her agreeable.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, all the way to the middle of her back, and the tangled, almost greasy strands were the only indication that she might not have enjoyed a proper bath in as many days as I had been looking for her.
“You are on the run,” I noted. “But you don’t have to run anymore. I know you have contacted me before. You can trust me, Elana. You can tell me what you know about Jennifer’s death. That’s why you are here, isn’t it?”
Elana shook her head, hugging herself and scanning the empty corridor through frantic eyes. I was afraid if I raised my voice, she would set off running again.
“Coming here was a mistake,” she muttered.
“No,” I said sternly, walking determinedly to her and gently clasping her shoulders. I needed the connection to make sure she wasn’t going to suddenly disappear. “Coming here was the bravest thing you could possibly do. Tell me what you know about that night, Elana.”
“That it didn’t go down like Jennifer had planned it.” Her voice was flat and her tone disapproving.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That night was supposed to be her golden ticket to paradise,” Elana explained and brushed my hands off her shoulders to pace up and down the narrow width of the hallway. “Instead she was injected with cocaine and silenced, just like Rheya. I’m not going to be the next one.”
“Do you have proof of this?”
The shivering, the furious beating of my heart, even the blood rushing to my ears, all settled down into an oddly detached numbness as my grimmest theory was confirmed.
“Dumb me. Why didn’t I think about taking some snapshots while Jennifer was murdered?” Elana shouted and made a face that hinted at her fickle disposition. “And before you ask, no, she had never done drugs, and she wasn’t doing drugs then because she couldn’t afford to put the baby in danger. She was pregnant.”
“She loved the baby, that’s understandable, but I already knew she was pregnant.”
Elana stopped the pacing that had quickly become disturbing and fixed me with an unexpectedly sickened look. She rolled her eyes as if she was having a conversation with a stupid little child and had already grown tired of it.
“She loved the fortune the baby was going to provide.”
My eyebrows lifted so high that I could feel the crinkles forming across my forehead. “I don’t understand,” I mumbled.
“Jack was not the father of the baby. Mitch Stewart was.”
Her words, partly revolted, partly resentful, literally sent me staggering. I leaned against the wall for support, looking at Elana in shock and horror. She scoffed then resumed her pacing, every now and then glancing at the exit door that led back to the restaurant.
“The night of the party, Jen told him and asked him for a lot of money to keep quiet. It seems like the mayor didn’t take well to blackmail. I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Mitch Stewart was in full campaign to become Senator, so if Jennifer had made good on her threats, the ensuing scandal would have ruined the mayor’s family as well as his chances to win the elections. Although such a drastic way of having her removed from his life was repulsive, I had to admit that it made sense.
“Elana, that is a serious allegation to make,” I finally managed to say on a shaky breath.
“I have proof,” she snapped and whirled around. Scared eyes turned stonily vehement.
“Then if you come forward—”
“Oh, you got me all wrong,” she chuckled bitterly. When she vigorously shook her head, her hair fell over her shoulders to reveal a peculiarly bruised neck. I frowned but didn’t have the chance to comment on it as she fervently continued, “I am not interested in making Jennifer’s killer pay. I’m interested in staying alive. So let the mayor know that I have copies of Jennifer’s medical records including the baby’s DNA. If something were to happen to me, those records would become public.”
“Elana, I’m not the enemy here,” I pleaded. “I want to help you. I want justice as much as you do. If you don’t come forward, you’ll be running and looking over your shoulder your entire life.”
“I’d rather run than lay in a coffin five-feet underground.”
“I can protect you.”
“How can you protect me if you can’t even protect yourself?” she shrieked
out.
At first, I noticed the shrill quality of her voice, which I suspected was caused by fear rather than being her natural timbre. After a long moment of just staring thunderstruck at her, I realized what she alluded to and why she was in possession of such information.
“It was you that night in the parking lot at the Willard Intercontinental?” I gasped. “Did you attack Vincent Cole to save me, Elana?”
Elana let out a breath, then she slid down the wall until she plopped on the granite floor. Sitting cross-legged, with her head propped in one hand and her eyelids almost drifting closed, she looked young, exhausted, and afraid, but what made me crouch next to her was the lonely, desolate character of her gaze.
“Look, I’m not blaming you,” I whispered, touching her hand tentatively. Her skin was chapped and cold. “If anything, I’m grateful. Thank you, Elana.”
“It was not Vincent Cole,” she muttered without meeting my inquisitive stare.
I let out an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes. “Elana, please, I know it was not Jase Parker.”
“It wasn’t Jase Parker, either.”
“Pardon?”
She took a deep breath, and when she let it out, she looked like it pained her. “It was—”
I didn’t hear whether or not she finished her sentence. A massive, earsplitting noise whipped my eardrums so violently that I could swear something had popped in my head, then the floor and the walls and the ceiling quaked and crackled. I fell on my side with my hands pressed against my ears, and my eyes shut as my head hit the ground.
Before I got back on my feet, the air turned very hot. Then I noticed the smell. I could taste it on the roof of my mouth, a sickening stench of burning plastic with overtones of cement powder and chemicals.
It hadn’t been an earthquake.
It had been an explosion.
“Oh my God, it’s them,” Elana cried and fisted her hands in her dirty hair. “They’re trying to kill us.”
For the first time, I looked at her and considered that she might have gone crazy, that she had been crazy all along, and that I had made a grave mistake by seeking her out. Then I followed her petrified gaze, and I felt crazy. Crazy with dread.
The emergency door that led to the restaurant was blocked with a thick metal bar where it hadn’t been there before, and dark smoke was filtering through the cracks between the door and its frame.
“We are not alone,” I breathed and looked around, but apart from the thickening smoke, the corridor was still empty.
“Of course, we’re not,” Elana spat, gesturing to the metal bar that hadn’t been there before. “They were watching. They are always watching. They know. We have to leave. Now.”
From upstairs, a second smaller explosion reverberated across the walls, followed by the smashing of glass and the cracking of wood. And then I heard the screams.
They were terrible and frightened, and the helplessness made me choke and blubber. Everyone I loved was in there, and with them were the flames.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” I chanted and sprang to my feet, horror and despair in my eyes.
I knew the fire gained strength by the smothering smoke that grew thick and dark and invaded the entire hallway. It was pure adrenaline rush that kept me standing and functioning. My eyes smarted and watered, but I plunged right through the thick veil of smoke.
“Please, don’t let them be hurt,” I cried and pleaded and walked faster.
Marcus. Mom. Marcus. Christina. Logan. Marcus. Marcus. Rachel. Ethan. Marcus. Marcus. Marcus.
Their names were a litany that kept throbbing in my head, but I couldn’t voice them. If I entertained the idea that something might have happened to any of them, I was going to lose the remaining drop of sanity I had left.
If something happened to them, I wouldn’t be able to bear it, but most frighteningly of all, if something happened to him, I didn’t think I could survive it.
I gripped the metal bar blocking the door, but as soon as I laid hands on it, I pulled away, hissing in pain. The metal was burning hot, and so was the air coming from the restaurant.
Stiff fingers wrapped around my elbow and yanked me backward. “What are you doing? Are you insane? We have to leave.”
“I can’t leave. Everyone is in there. We have to help them.”
I ripped my dress and pulled it taut around my hands like bandages, then I grabbed the metal bar again and channeled all my strength into dislodging the damn barrier. Someone was banging and scratching at the door, but the bar didn’t budge, and the screams turned louder.
I became desperate, my motions wild as uncontrollable sobbing tore my chest apart. Then I became hopeless, and my knees almost buckled under my weight.
Desperation was empowering—it drove me mad, but it spurred me into action. Hopelessness, on the other hand, was paralyzing. It put an end to a tragedy that hadn’t been written yet, that I had to avoid, that—
“Charlotte? Are you there?”
“Marcus?” I shouted back, so relieved to hear his voice that fresh tears burst from my eyes. They were hot as the fire burning on the other side of that door.
“Sugar, tell me you are alright.”
“It’s—it’s a bar blocking the door. I can’t get it off. It’s not working.”
“Okay, look around. Can you see something you can use to knock it loose? A chair or hammer or a crowbar?”
I spun around and halted mid-sob as I stumbled into Elana. Disbelieving emerald eyes examined my unhinged expression for an infinite heartbeat, then she looked around as if pondering her options. Exhaling exasperatedly and rolling her eyes, she dragged me forward.
“Damn it,” she growled. “Come on, I know a way.”
Elana tugged me through the unbreathable air and into a room to the right side of the emergency door. It looked like a storage room. There was a vent hole in the ceiling that must have led upstairs to the kitchen of the Exterus. Narrow windows were placed high, close to the ceiling, and a stepladder was propped up against the wall.
“Good, this is good,” I muttered, looking around for something, anything I could use to smack that bar off the door. Anything that could help me get everyone out of that burning restaurant. “Elana, help me look for—”
“I’m so sorry,” she whined, sounding strange and unstable.
“What are you talking about?” I rasped. “Look for something to knock that bar down.”
“I’m sorry,” Elana repeated quietly. “It was the only way I had to protect myself.”
I felt that nagging ache in my chest return, which only intensified when I glanced at the woman and found her huddling in a corner. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was shaking her head violently. Her splendid emerald eyes appeared bloodshot and goggled, and bitter tears were coursing down her cheeks.
“What have you done?” I demanded on a cough.
She stilled, and her eyes shifted behind me. The plagued contortion of her face turned deadpan, and whatever light she had had in her eyes was suddenly snuffed out. Then, the door of the storage room was slammed shut with destructive intent. I jumped, swallowing heavily and spun around.
The color drained from my face. Cameron Drake stood rigidly with his feet planted wide apart and his eyes roaming the storage room. He was holding a gun in one hand and a black square device with a red button in his other. He looked poised and detached despite the circumstances.
My thoughts reeled at the sight of him, but the primal part of me was suddenly very alert and immediately recognized the danger.
“Huh,” he grunted when his frighteningly centered gaze stopped on a ramshackle cabinet. “We won’t be needing this.”
Drake launched to the sideboard, and with a firm shove, he knocked it right in front of the closed door. The raucous screech made me cringe. A cloud of dust merged with the dense, stifling vapors coming from the vent that led to the restaurant above, briefly cloaking the man from view.
I fooled myself that there was no dan
ger, that if I turned around, I would find a way to get out.
“What are you doing? How are we getting out? You promised, you promised if I did this, you’d let me go.”
Elana clung to Drake as if he was her lifeline, and her wild eyes danced desperately between him and the collapsed cabinet blocking the entrance.
Drake’s sneer was cunning and merciless. He had hurled the cabinet down in front of the door not only to block our way to safety but also to prevent any potential rescue from the outside. As my gaze raked over him, his feat as well as his unruffled demeanor became painfully clear.
We were trapped in a small room, with fire raging above us and toxic fumes cramming the space, making it very difficult to breathe, and the only way out was blocked now. But Drake had never intended to use that door to escape.
He wore a black jumpsuit with leather reinforcements for his knees and back. Elastic fabric wrapped around his wrists and ankles and curled up around his throat, finishing with a hood that could have hidden his face if necessary. He carried on his shoulder what looked like a backpack, but was, in fact, his parachute.
His head snapped to Elana, and the motion caused the steel buckles on his full-body harness to clink. His lip curled over his teeth, and his eyes narrowed disdainfully at the trembling hands of the woman who was still tugging at him hysterically.
“It was so sweet of you to believe me,” he mocked and shoved at Elana’s grabbing hands so viciously that she went teetering to the ground.
My lungs squeezed out a tension loaded breath as Elana’s body toppled against a frail working table, sending tools and glass clattering everywhere. Under the weight of her body, the wood gave way, and it collapsed in a pile of splinters and rusty metal. Elana groaned, a low, breathless sound that spoke of pain and fear.
Her fingers constricted around her torso, just under her left breast where a screwdriver had lodged deep between her ribs. Blood coated her hands, and pain tightened her features as she struggled for breath and started crying in earnest. I wanted to move, to run to her, and offer the little help I could, but my legs didn’t seem to cooperate as my body stood frozen in the middle of the room.
Darkside Love Affair Page 54
