Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense)

by Cathy Marlowe

  As they walked out the door, Lizzie looked longingly at Sam before risking a quick glance at Cole. He nodded imperceptibly, a sign that the knife she’d slipped him rested safely in his tied hands.

  As they waited for the elevator, the buzz of a vibrating phone disturbed the silence. One of Alistair’s men answered and listened without speaking. Hanging up, he nodded to the other guard before turning toward the penthouse to open the door, and Lizzie stole a glance at the captives inside.

  The second man grabbed Lizzie, placing his hand tightly over her mouth as she struggled to get free. She watched in horror as the first man raised his gun. She barely registered the dull thud of bullets exploding through the silencer, transfixed as Cole and Joey jerked spasmodically and blood began to stain their neatly pressed shirts.

  “Sam,” she cried, her scream swallowed by her captor’s sweaty hand. She was helpless to protect her little girl. She fought for control of her emotions as they shoved her toward the elevator.

  …

  Zach’s phone rang as they pulled up to the penthouse. It was Lizzie.

  “Lizzie—”

  “Hey, Zach, it’s me.”

  He frowned and remained silent. Although she’d interrupted him, her voice was subdued and frightened…no, shocked.

  “Where are you?”

  It was a test; he was sure of it. Chances were Alistair would have seen him arrive. He gambled with his response. “I thought I’d surprise you and join you in bringing Sam home. I just pulled up to the penthouse.”

  “Oh…good.”

  God, she was trying so hard to be brave, but he heard the slight quaver in her voice.

  “Why…why don’t you leave your guard in the car? We don’t want to overwhelm the sitter.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right up.” The call ended. He stepped from the car and walked purposefully into the building, aware that all exits were being observed by his men.

  He crossed the lobby and pushed the up button. When the elevator to the penthouse opened, he stepped inside to be greeted by two of Alistair’s men. “One wrong move and the kid and woman die,” the taller man hissed, jabbing a gun into his kidney. The doors closed and a shorter, powerfully built mercenary tapped his finger next to the penthouse button, smiling coldly at him as he moved his hand and instead pushed the button sending them to the basement.

  As the elevator descended, Shorty patted Zach down, removing the gun in his shoulder holster, the one strapped to his right ankle, and the knife in the lining of his jacket. They ignored his watch.

  The elevator doors opened. The men shoved him forward, directing him down a long hallway until they jerked him to a stop in front of an unmarked door. One of Alistair’s men knocked twice. Although Zach’s heart beat more rapidly with each passing moment, his posture remained relaxed, his face emotionless.

  The door opened into an elegantly decorated room, the marble floors and expensive furniture more suited to a penthouse than the basement. Alistair rose to greet him, but Zach failed to register any of the old man’s words, his entire focus on his silent wife.

  Lizzie sat in a straight-backed chair, her arms tied behind her. Desiree stood next to her, dressed for company in an ice-blue halter top and matching silk pants. She cradled a hypodermic needle in her hands.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “Thomas, my son. Is this any way to greet your father?” Alistair’s booming voice echoed off the stucco walls and settled into the far corners of the elegant room.

  Zach ignored him. “Lizzie? Are you okay?” At her slight nod, he continued, “Where’s Sam?”

  “She’s in the penthouse. They drugged her.” Her voice was strangely monotone as she shifted restlessly in her chair. “They shot Cole and Joey.”

  Zach remained silent, the tightening of his jaw the only indication that he heard her. Then he turned to Alistair, ignoring Desiree. “Father, let her go. It’s me you want.” Tall Man, as he thought of Shorty’s partner, prodded him forward with another jab of his gun.

  Unconcerned, Alistair shook his head. “Thomas, you are so predictable. Let her go. Take me.” The old man mocked him, pitching his voice lower to match Zach’s. “So noble. So selfless. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. Such selflessness is for weaklings! Son, we’ve been through this all before. When will you remember?”

  Smiling at him, Alistair clapped his hand against his temple. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t remember!” Alistair picked up a pair of handcuffs from the table. “You don’t remember, but you’re actually rather good at getting out of ropes, so we’ll use these just to be safe.”

  Shorty turned him roughly and secured his wrists with the cuffs. Alistair stepped forward and clapped one hand on Zach’s shoulder, raising the other to cup his face. “It’s good to have you back, son.”

  With a powerful squeeze to his shoulder, Alistair moved back and gestured toward an empty chair across the room from Lizzie. “Sit down.” It was not an invitation.

  Alistair’s men shoved him down and tied him tightly to the chair with a rope that bound him across the chest.

  “Just another precaution, son. No offense, but you have proven a bit difficult these past days.”

  Once he was secure, the two thugs waited near the door.

  “So what do you think of my lovely quarters?” Winking at Zach, he swept his arm in a circle. “I own the building! I bought it after Grant moved in. I needed someplace comfortable just in case—well, you know.”

  He nodded sagely at Zach. “A Forrester always plans ahead!” He nodded again. “Plan ahead, that’s the key to success—leave nothing to chance.”

  Ignoring the old man’s preening, he focused on his wife as he pushed his chair so that his back was to the wall, providing him with an unobstructed view.

  Noting his attempt to keep all of the bad guys in sight, Alistair laughed. “Are you comfortable now, Thomas?”

  “Yeah, I’m great.” Zach continued to watch Lizzie, telling her without words that they’d find a way out of this mess, while behind his back his nimble fingers slipped a wire from the band of his watch and discreetly attempted to pick the lock on the handcuffs.

  Plan ahead indeed. We’ll see who has the last laugh today.

  “Now son, at first I was angry that you left, but then I realized—it was my fault. It was a mistake to bring Lizzie, and even Daniel, to the island. They were unnecessary ties to your previous life.”

  The exaggerated lyrical cadence in Alistair’s speech sent fissures of fear down Zach’s spine. The man was definitely sinking further into the insanity of his own special world where Forrester logic ruled.

  He nodded thoughtfully as though considering the old man’s wisdom. “Yes, you’re right. Let Lizzie go, and then the two of us—”

  “No!” Lizzie interrupted. “Zach…”

  Zach stared at her, urging her to remain silent as Alistair walked over and crouched in front of her.

  “Lizzie, my dear.” He reached out a hand and gave her cheek a caress punctuated with a light slap.

  Zach tensed but remained silent, as she shot him a warning glance that clearly said she could handle Alistair.

  “Do not speak unless you have permission. Do you understand?”

  At her terse nod, Alistair stood but remained at her side and addressed Zach again. Although she didn’t speak, she continued to fidget.

  Noting a smirk on the face of one of his men, Alistair frowned. “This is family business. Wait outside.”

  When the man began to protest, Alistair pulled a gun out from under his jacket and waved it at him. “I can handle things in here.”

  Desiree pocketed the syringe and escorted the men out, closing the door behind them before returning to stand near Lizzie, the click of her heels a delicate staccato across the floor.

  Gesturing to an empty chair, Alistair waited as Desiree pulled it close to Lizzie. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the chair.

  “Ah, that’s much more comfort
able.” He flexed muscles revealed by his short-sleeved silk shirt. Gun in his right hand, he sat, rested his left on Lizzie’s knee, and ran his fingers absently along her leg as he spoke.

  “Daniel’s early birth was Maggie’s fault.” Alistair pointed the gun carelessly in her direction. “Excuse me, I mean Lizzie. She was a bad wife. She was a bad mother to your son. You do know, don’t you, that the girl isn’t yours?”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, Zach could only watch as Alistair squeezed her leg in warning.

  “This life you want to keep…it’s nothing but a myth…a fairy tale.” He shook his head sadly, as though truly pained by Zach’s unfortunate delusion.

  His demeanor changed, a sly quality creeping into his voice. “Did Lizzie tell you how she was drawn to me? I could have had her if I’d wished. Oh, she’ll tell you she despised my touch.” He paused for a moment to run his fingers along her jaw before dropping them suggestively to her collarbone. “But I know women, know the signs of their desire. She liked the feel of my hands on her body. Are you sure a woman like this is what you want?”

  “Enough!” Zach clenched his jaw and lowered his voice. “Leave Lizzie out of this. This is between you and me.”

  “Enough? Enough? Yes, Thomas, it is enough! I will not tolerate your disrespect…your rebellion any longer!” His voice rose as agitation exploded into full-blown wrath. “You ingrate! After everything I did for you. I clothed you, housed you, saw that you had the finest education! You have taken and taken and taken from me, until finally you took my most precious possession. Well, not this time. This time I will get what I want.”

  Alistair’s face mottled an unbecoming red as Zach felt himself pulled into the past by memories not fully remembered and perhaps best forgotten.

  “You ingrate!” Alistair’s screams rebounded endlessly in the night.

  “Hey, bro!”

  He smiled.

  “You did this! You! It’s your fault…”

  “Chicks dig scars.”

  He cried out, but he was too late. The sound of gunfire split the night.

  He struggled to remain focused, but there was no stopping the deluge of fragmented memories.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Blood poured from the wounds. So much blood. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stanch the flow. He cradled the dying man’s head in his hands.

  Thomas!

  He smiled.

  “Zach, are you all right?” Lizzie’s worried voice sought him, but even as he looked at her, bits of memory bombarded him, confusing and painful. In every memory there was so much blood. In every memory he smiled. And every smile brought death. A dull pounding began at his temples.

  “Zach!” Lizzie’s urgent summons finally drew him back to the present, but he had eyes only for Alistair as the truth about that night at last emerged from the hidden corners of his mind.

  “You! You murderous bastard! You killed him!” Zach tugged at his bonds, unable to remain still.

  “I? I? I did not kill Thomas. It was you. You should have died that night. You!”

  Alistair rose from his chair and began to pace.

  “The two of you were so alike. Hell, when you were young, you’d trade places and fool people.” Alistair pointed at Zach accusingly. “It was easy for the drug dealers to believe that you were my son. But Thomas fought his rightful inheritance. He failed to grasp the greatness of the master plan and went charging to your rescue without my knowing. As usual he failed to consider the consequences of his actions.”

  His judgmental tone infuriated Zach.

  “He was my brother,” Zach bit out.

  “He was your cousin!”

  “He was my brother here.” Without thinking, Zach attempted to raise his right hand to his heart. His damned handcuffs stopped him.

  “Zach, Zach, Zach.” Alistair shook his head in exaggerated dismay. “As much as we enjoyed your company, ultimately you were expendable. Thomas would have understood that in time, but you stole that time from him.” He stormed across the room and swept a crystal tumbler from the dining table, flinging it against the far wall.

  The sound of shattering glass faded. No one spoke in the highly charged room, until Lizzie broke the silence. “I don’t understand. Why did anyone have to die?”

  Alistair walked back to Lizzie and crouched in front of her, resting his hands and the gun on her knees. “Well, you see, my dear,” he explained reasonably, “the men I was working with were upset about a pesky little detail in our business transaction. I kept just a small bit of their money. I needed it! To finance my research. And so they planned to kill my son to teach me a lesson. To teach me a lesson.”

  As his anger rose again, he clenched his free hand, painfully digging his fingers into her skin. She flinched.

  “You know, don’t you my dear”—he tapped her cheek with the gun as he spoke—“that no one teaches me a lesson.” He waited until she nodded in agreement, and then rose to his feet.

  “And so I sent Zach to the rendezvous instead.”

  He laughed and spread his arms to emphasize his words. “You were so gullible, both you and Thomas, thinking you were serving your country when in truth you were serving me! Off you went to the meeting point. We used code names and the boys looked enough alike…”

  He paused, frowning, and then raised his hands in exasperation and began to pace again. “Everything was going exactly as I planned until Thomas burst in to save his cousin. And even then things might have been okay. But you…you!”

  He pointed an accusing finger at Zach. “In your arrogance, you smiled. You smiled and they knew.”

  She gasped. “They knew he wasn’t your son because of the dimple. Zach has one and Thomas didn’t.”

  “Yes!” Alistair roared. “That damned dimple. You so closely resemble my dear departed sister except for that memorable dimple that you inherited from your good-for-nothing father. The murderers called me afterward, you know. Called and laughed and told me what had happened. Laughed and placed an order for more drugs.”

  He grimaced. He stroked his goatee. “As if I would do business with them again.” He resumed pacing.

  “They paid for their impertinence. Oh yes, they paid.” His voice rose, and he pointed his finger at Zach. “Just as everyone who crosses me pays.”

  As his face again turned red with rage, Desiree spoke firmly from the side of the room, where she’d watched the drama forgotten by the others. “Alistair, your blood pressure.”

  Taking a deep breath, he calmed, then chuckled. “Thank you, my dear. For a moment I forgot myself.”

  Returning to Lizzie, Alistair sat in the chair beside her. “You see, do you not? Zach owes me. And thanks to my little wonder drug, I will have my son back.”

  Alistair pushed his fingers through Lizzie’s hair, grabbing a handful to pull her closer to him. “Unfortunately, you’ve proven to be a bit of a problem.”

  Fear for Lizzie pushed hazy memories of Thomas away. “You’re right, sir. I do owe you. Let Lizzie go back to her children and I’ll leave with you. I promise.”

  Alistair released her hair and withdrew his hand. “Yes, you will, Thomas, and this time I’ll see that neither of you remembers. I doubt your wife will be so ardent in her search for you if she has no feelings for you. And if you have no memories of her…well, it’s a perfect situation for everyone involved.” Patting her leg, he slipped his gun back into its holster and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw a small pouch. He held it reverently in his hands, then rose from her side.

  “So, do you have any last words for your wife before she becomes less than a memory?”

  Withdrawing a vial, he handed it to Desiree. When Zach and Lizzie remained silent, staring intently at each other, Alistair prodded them. “Well, do you have nothing to say to this woman you supposedly love? You don’t have much time left, son.”

  Zach strained against his restraints, unable to move from the chair. Relaxing back against it, he inhaled dee
ply, drinking in the sight of her, memorizing every detail of her appearance. “We should have made love last night.” Regret, sincere and unending, graced each word.

  “Zach…” She exhaled his name on a sigh and smiled tearfully.

  Sadness crept into his eyes. “Lizzie Lou.” The beloved nickname rolled off his tongue without thought, and her eyes widened in acknowledgement.

  “Maybe it’s best this way. I know you’ll love those kids, even without your memories. Maybe it’s best if you don’t remember your love for me. If you’re honest with yourself, you know I’ve brought as much pain into your life as happiness. This way you can be happy with our children and let go of the nightmare.”

  “You are my husband.” Her fierce whisper lingered in the air.

  “Enough of this melodrama!” Alistair crossed the room and placed his hand on his nephew’s shoulder as though bracing him for the inevitable.

  “Desiree, my dear, if you would do the honors.”

  …

  Lizzie watched as Desiree drew the serum from the vial into the syringe. The knife she’d slipped Cole hadn’t been her only weapon. She’d sheathed a second blade inside the sleeve of her jacket that morning, and awkward though it was to attack the rope blindly, she’d been steadily working her way through her bonds.

  Desiree startled and looked down at her silver stiletto. She frowned at the liquid that splattered across her polished toes, staining the shoes’ delicate straps a bright red. The beautiful shoes were ruined by blood that wept from Lizzie’s hands as she struggled to free herself. It served the woman right.

  With the needle poised above Lizzie’s arm, Desiree paused. Her eyes slowly left her shoe and traveled up to search Lizzie’s face.

  She smiled.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sweat trickled down Zach’s brow as he forced himself to remain focused. He no longer cared if Alistair or Desiree noticed what he was doing. He would not allow his uncle to send Lizzie into that hell of nothingness he’d awoken to, would not allow him to steal her memories of holding her babies for the first time.

  He’d told the truth when he said she’d be better off if she could forget him, but her intense reaction had been a wake-up call. You are my husband. Who was he to choose what was best for her? By God, he would not be like his controlling, manipulative uncle, a man who it seemed had been like a father to him before becoming his worst enemy.