Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense)

by Cathy Marlowe

  He started to protest. He enjoyed the bedtime and late-night feedings, rare moments when he was truly alone with his son. But he knew that Ace digested breast milk more easily, and there was a part of him that wanted to be here as she fed the baby, no matter how much it might seem like an intrusion.

  He handed the baby to her. They stared at each other for a long moment before he turned his back and moved to the sitting area to give her some privacy.

  When he heard the soft sounds of nursing, he turned around and sat in the chair, unprepared for the jolt to his heart as he watched her feed Ace, her deep affection for the boy written clearly on her face. He wondered if Ace’s own mother had cared for him in this fashion.

  Although she had discreetly covered herself with a blanket, the moment was nonetheless almost unbearably intimate. While she kept her eyes focused on Ace, Thomas settled back, knowing a rare moment of peace.

  When he awoke a couple of hours later, she was gone. A light blanket covered him. Perplexed, he stood and folded the blanket neatly, setting it aside.

  He thought about the emotion on her face as she nursed his son, thought about her own lost child. How had he died and when?

  Was her devotion to Ace unhealthy or a godsend?

  Chapter Eleven

  The morning after her late-night discussion with Alistair, Lizzie stared into the bathroom mirror. She looked like hell. Her lank hair, weighed down by heavy conditioner, bore no resemblance to the vibrant curls Zach admired. The dull color leached life from her face as well, and another sleepless night had left dark circles under eyes that had looked ragged even before she arrived on the island.

  In addition to worrying about Sam, the knowledge that her room was in Alistair’s wing of the mansion had her jumping at every sound. She’d seen the way he looked at her. If he weren’t so dangerous, she’d find him laughable.

  Last night he’d worn a fitted, short-sleeved green silk business shirt that emphasized the powerful muscles in his arms and brought out the green in his eyes. Although at the time she’d been too upset about Sam to notice, she’d replayed the encounter many times during the night and she was certain he’d been, well, preening. He reminded her of a peacock, albeit one with very large, very sharp teeth. Although Zach liked to tease her about finding him the “most handsome man she’d seen in ages,” her husband had never been vain.

  The antique grandfather clock at the end of the hall chimed the half hour, its deep tones resounding through her closed door. It was five thirty. Daniel normally didn’t awaken until six, but she was anxious to get out of this room and be close to him. Alistair had forbidden her to leave the room before morning, but he hadn’t specified a time when her duties started. She took a deep breath, pushed open her door, and boldly swept into the hall, nodding at the security guard posted near the clock. She headed toward the nursery.

  …

  Thomas stood next to Ace’s crib, running his finger absently along the rail as he watched him sleep. After Ace’s late night feeding, he’d stayed in the nursery, sleeping fitfully in the recliner.

  He preferred the new nanny to the previous caregivers, felt an inherent trust in her genuine affection for the baby; however, he’d been more restless last night than any night since he’d awakened at the clinic, a stranger in his own body. Because he preferred the new nanny.

  Unfortunately, his attraction to her stemmed from more than just her excellent care of Ace. She intrigued him.

  The door opened behind him and he turned to see her enter. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun. The dark red strands were almost black and reminded him of muddy clay, reflecting none of the early morning light that slipped between the slats of the window blinds. Her dark gray uniform emphasized her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes providing the only color in her wan face. He frowned.

  “You missed Ace’s two o’clock feeding. Couldn’t you hear him crying?” Although he spoke in subdued tones to avoid waking Ace, the words nevertheless echoed harshly in the large room.

  “My room is in the other wing and your father told me not to come to the nursery until morning.” She moved forward hesitantly, her worried eyes seeking the baby as he slept.

  “The other wing?” Thomas crossed to the sitting area and reached for the knob of a door that blended with the paneled wall, making it difficult to see. “This connects to the nanny’s quarters. It’s a comfortable room.” He opened the door and checked his watch. “I’ll have your things moved. I need to get ready for work.”

  She nodded wordlessly and turned toward the crib, running her hand up and down Ace’s back. Thomas stared, certain he’d seen relief in her eyes when he announced the move to the connecting room. Certainly the proximity to Ace would make her job easier, but relief? Confused, he turned to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

  He never heard her soft-spoken “Daniel” or saw the tear that escaped to run silently down her cheek.

  …

  Lizzie paced the hall in front of Alistair’s study, three minutes early for the daily video of her daughter. She’d been in Forrester hell for two days now, the second day more difficult than the first. Zach watched her closely as though suspicious of her motives. She felt none of the tentative connection from their first meeting.

  At least he’d moved her from the east wing to the nanny’s room. Not only was she closer to Daniel, but sleeping in the same wing as Alistair had given her the creeps—not that she slept for long during that first miserable night.

  She raised her hand to knock on the study door, but it flung open before she made contact. Alistair grabbed her wrist and escorted her to the chair in front of his desk, displeasure radiating off him. She lifted her chin and waited.

  Perching on the end of his desk, he stroked his goatee as he permitted the silence to expand. At last he said, “You…”

  Lizzie’s palms began to sweat.

  “You moved to the nanny’s quarters without my permission.” He raised his brows and leaned forward to invade her personal space.

  “Za—Thomas moved me. It was his idea.” She clasped her hands together.

  “You…” His condescending tone caused her to bite her lip. She would not let him bait her. “You should have refused.”

  She shook her head, but before she could respond, he continued. “You should have convinced Thomas that you were comfortable in your original quarters.” His voice softened, his near whisper more threatening than a shout.

  Lizzie felt blood rise in her cheeks. “What do you expect from me? I thought you wanted me to care for little Alistair and not make an impression on Thomas.” She practically choked on the hated names. “So now you think I should have influence over him? Well, sorry, but I’m just another servant to Alistair Forrester Jr.” The truth of those words broke her heart, but she glared at Alistair Sr., refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

  Although she had to be subservient, it was a mistake to show weakness.

  “Hmm, excellent point.” His pleasant approval sent chills down her spine and she braced herself. “However, you know I don’t approve of ‘Ace.’ Ridiculous name. And still you use the name when you are with Thomas. Even more annoying to me, you call the boy Daniel when you’re alone with him. You’d best tread more carefully, Ms. Smith.” Waving his hand toward the door, he dismissed her. “You may go.”

  “Go? No, I haven’t seen Sam yet today.” Although she tried, she couldn’t hide her panic.

  “Nor will you. Get out. Uh-uh, my dear,” he continued when she would have spoken. “If you argue again, you won’t see her tomorrow either. Oh, one more thing. A small camera has been installed in your bedroom. For security purposes, of course. With your security background, you would probably notice it eventually. See that the camera is not disturbed or blocked in any way.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  In shock, Lizzie wandered back to her room. How had he known she referred to Daniel as Ace when Zach was present, saving a whispered
“Daniel” for times when the two of them were alone?

  He was watching her. In the nursery…in her bedroom.

  Moments later she shut the bathroom door in the nanny’s quarters and leaned against it. She forced herself to examine the room. A statue of Zeus wielding a lightning bolt now graced her dresser, the camera lodged discreetly inside. When a thorough search of the bathroom revealed no camera, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Hot water pounded from the showerhead as tears ran unchecked down her face. She worked the red rinse painstakingly through her hair. Instructed to use the product every other day, she applied the ugly red and then weighed down her hair with heavy conditioner, which minimized the curl and enabled her to slick her hair back in an austere bun.

  As much as she hated her nanny hair, she’d found some small hope in Alistair’s apparent concern that Zach might begin to recognize her. Zach loved her hair.

  That hope was now overshadowed by the fact that Alistair was bugging, maybe even videotaping, Daniel’s nursery as well as her room. She had been planning to earn Zach’s trust and then tell him the truth, but now…now any step she took might be observed, putting Sam in danger before Zach could respond.

  Whenever she left the nursery suite, she felt eyes upon her, whether she could see a guard or not. As desperately as she sought a solution to this nightmare, it seemed that each day the walls of Alistair’s prison pressed more tightly around her.

  She stood under the spray until her skin started to prune and her sobs faded to quiet despair. Finally, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel securely around herself and prepared for another sleepless night.

  …

  For the next two days Thomas adhered to the same schedule. He ran early in the morning, ate breakfast with Ace, worked all day—taking short breaks whenever possible to make sure Maggie continued to lavish the infant with care—and escaped as soon as possible to spend the evening with him.

  He hadn’t yet returned to the dirt road. Instead, he varied his route and explored the island wilderness, the coves and cliffs of the shoreline. Although he intended to release tension through the grueling pace he set, he found himself creating a mental map of the island, noting places where a man could hide or slip away unnoticed.

  Determined to follow the road on the third morning, he rose before daybreak to escape the mansion unnoticed. His pills rested in the pocket of the black hooded sweat jacket he wore to ward off the predawn chill. The pounding in his head kept time with the pad of his feet as he ran. The previous mornings, running had provided a release from his mental tension and worked with the pills to ease his recurring headache.

  But not today.

  Today the pain was intense. Without the pills, the endorphin-induced relief eluded him.

  The first tendrils of light graced the sky as he turned onto the narrow road. It was well maintained, with none of the verdant foliage encroaching onto the cleared path. He ran steadily through the forest, coming to an abrupt stop when he rounded a corner and discovered a one-story metal warehouse. It rose unexpectedly, a tendril of white smoke swirling from a smokestack in the back of the building. Where the mansion was an abomination amid the effusive plant life, the warehouse was simply ugly.

  A military jeep sat in front of the building. The building’s front door opened and he glided back into the foliage in time to watch unseen as a stranger in civilian clothes exited.

  Thomas leaned against a tree trunk. His heart pounded and his breaths came in rapid spurts that had nothing to do with his earlier physical exertion. He frowned, recognizing the flight-or-fight response. What was happening? So the man was a stranger. Hell, everyone he met was a stranger. The guy didn’t appear threatening. He was clean-cut, in his twenties. A scar ran along his jaw. Thomas could see that he moved with purpose, but without radiating evil intent. Even as Thomas recognized that he had no factual basis for his assumptions, the man approached the vehicle and stopped to tuck a leather pouch inside his jacket.

  The building’s door opened again, and an armed guard joined the civilian. The guard held little interest for Thomas. His eyes remained trained on the first man.

  The guard started the engine, and the men sped past him. An instinctive need to stop the civilian propelled Thomas from his hiding place, but he was too late. The jeep had already disappeared around the corner. He sprinted after it, his sense of dread increasing as he passed the location where the footpath intersected the narrow road. In the distance he heard the motor’s low drone grow increasingly faint.

  Fifteen minutes later he drifted back into the brush as the jeep returned. Once it turned a corner and headed back to the warehouse, he continued down the dirt path until it opened onto another clearing. This one boasted a cove with a small dock. A speedboat raced across the water, growing smaller until he could no longer see it.

  He was too late.

  He ran his hands roughly through his hair and held his head as the pounding he’d ignored during the rush of adrenaline returned with intensity. A twig snapped behind him.

  Instinctively, he blended into the undergrowth and remained still. When he heard nothing but normal forest sounds, he sank against the base of a tree and fumbled with the zippered pocket of his jacket, withdrawing his pills with shaking hands. He stared at them and then tossed them into his mouth, only to spit them back out and grind them into the dirt with his fist.

  Whatever his problems were, they wouldn’t be fixed by little pills that not only stopped the pounding in his head, but also gave him a much-desired sense of well-being. How stupid did his father think he was?

  He gritted his teeth and jogged back to the mansion.

  Feeling somewhat presentable after a long, hot shower and three ibuprofen, he joined Alistair ten minutes late for their first meeting of the day.

  “You’re late.” Alistair peered at him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

  “Sorry.” He poured a glass of water and sat at the conference table. “I ran a little farther than usual this morning.”

  Alistair stroked his goatee with his forefinger. “Yes, you left rather early today, did you not?”

  Raising his glass to his mouth, Thomas took a long drink. “Yes, I did. I came across a warehouse on the far side of the island. A pretty inconvenient location.” He gazed intently at his father.

  Alistair’s mouth tightened, and then he smiled and waved his hand. “Why would I want to look at an ugly storage building? Of course it’s on the other side of the island. Perhaps if you didn’t run so far from the mansion, you would be on time.” He raised his brows. Seeming satisfied that Thomas understood his point, he began their meeting.

  Thomas realized he’d definitely discovered something of interest this morning. Alistair tried to hide it, but he’d been furious that Thomas had stumbled upon the warehouse. A warehouse with a smokestack and an armed guard.

  The morning was spent reviewing Worldwide Pharmaceuticals’ European operations. Although he wished to spend the lunch hour with Ace, Alistair insisted they eat in his office to prepare for an international conference call.

  Determined not to waste time he could be spending with his son, Thomas raised the issue of his salary, and the name of his bank, and the location of his checkbook. Alistair was indignant.

  “What is this infernal concern with money?” The old man slammed his fist on the desk. “Is not your every need seen to here at your home?”

  Unruffled by the outburst, Thomas presented his carefully crafted argument. “Yes, Father, and I appreciate the fine life we have here. But I’m a man and a man prefers to earn his keep and not depend on the generosity of others.”

  For a moment, silence filled the room, and then Alistair laughed. “Very well, son. I concede your point.”

  He rose from his chair and clapped Thomas heartily on the back before opening a safe hidden behind an oil painting of the mansion. “We’re behind on work due to your accident, so it will be a while before we can travel to the mainland. In the mean
time, how much money does your manly pride require?”

  Ignoring the verbal dig, Thomas waited as Alistair counted out large bills from an outrageously huge stack of currency. When the total reached ten thousand dollars, he smiled and scooped up the money. “I believe this covers my first week’s work.”

  Alistair grinned. “I see you’ve retained your self-confidence in spite of your injury. You are a Forrester to the bone, my boy.”

  Although Thomas could have left to visit Ace once they were ready for the call, it seemed prudent to remain. He didn’t want to take the money and run—at least not yet. He stayed to finish a leisurely lunch, not realizing that Alistair had them booked nonstop for the rest of the day.

  The exceedingly dull business dinner he’d been required to attend after a full day of work continued over drinks, running late into the night, and he missed spending the evening in the nursery. Although it interested him that another employee had finally visited the island, most of the conversation had bored him. The visitor, a balding, overweight smarmy man, had fawned over Alistair, which had disgusted Thomas. While he pretended to pay attention, his mind wandered repeatedly to Ace—and Maggie. Ace had thrived since she had arrived to lavish affection on him, but the nanny seemed to withdraw further with each passing day.

  She spent every moment possible with Ace, unless Thomas specifically asked her to leave…or until 8:55 each night, when she excused herself.

  Last night he had heard her open and close the door that provided access from her room to the hall. He’d wanted to know where she went when darkness fell.

  Stepping casually out of the room, he’d glimpsed her disappearing around the corner. Without conveying any urgency, he asked the security guard to call him if Ace awoke, then he strode down the hall, feeling ridiculous for sneaking around the corridors of his own house.

  Nevertheless, he’d followed her, stepping around the corner just in time to see her turn right, heading toward the east wing. Careful to remain unseen, he followed her until she stopped in front of his father’s rooms and, without knocking, stepped inside. Although he’d waited for more than half an hour, she remained inside. Finally he returned to his son, disturbed at the thought of what might be happening behind that closed door.