Capture the Night

by Cheryl Pierson

  Not for the first time, Eileen wondered what kind of mother McShane had had, that he could be so totally devoid of any kind of feeling, any shred of emotion other than the flare of anger he exhibited so often.

  Her thoughts turned to Robin once again, and the crushing weight of the memory of the way McShane had come into their home to tell her and her mother of Robin’s death. His murder. She drew in a slow, deep breath, calming herself. The time was drawing closer. She had to be very, very careful. It had been four long years since Robin had died at McShane’s hands; one, since her mother had passed away. Very soon, Eileen knew, she would join them. But hearing Kier’s order to murder two of his own men discomfited her. She’d heard him ordering beef stew at the local pub with more excitement.

  Why would he do such a thing? The only answer could be that Kier had, himself, grown tired of the game. Either, he planned to escape with only the two of them, herself and O’Brian, or…he planned to martyr all of them.

  She bit her lower lip. He had no way of knowing she’d planned the same thing for him, this coming death. And though she wasn’t sure how, exactly, she planned to accomplish it, she knew she had to beat him at his own maniacal game. The tentacles of her own insecurities gripped her for a moment. She had never been bred for a murderess, but she had done far, far worse in her bid to make Kieran McShane pay for the deaths of her brother and their mother.

  “Ye’ve a kind heart, lassie,” Robin had always teased her. Well, her heart had hardened to a fine piece of solid granite now.

  As McShane veered and headed for Officer Pete Logan and the young woman, Eileen felt a small bit of trepidation. For whatever reason, she felt a healthy measure of respect and admiration for the handsome police lieutenant. This feeling toward him was unlike her. There was no romantic link between them, yet she couldn’t deny some kind of inexplicable “connection.”

  By the look on Kier’s face, Pete Logan was going to need some kind of intervention. She cast a glance at the now-blank screen of the comm monitor, torn between leaving her post, even for a few seconds, and the unwelcome desire to protect Logan and the young woman.

  Sorley sauntered past her on his way to the elevators. He gave her a tight-lipped nod, then looked beyond her, as though she wasn’t there. She supposed he was trying to forget the fact that he was going to do murder to appease his best friend. His only friend, other than the barmaid he was so eager to get back home to.

  He disappeared behind the elevator doors, and Eileen rose slowly. Her gaze strayed momentarily to where the remaining hostages—all Brits—sat in the interior of the main lobby. As instructed, they remained quiet; unmoving.

  Eileen’s lips quirked as she looked once more at the monitor, then slipped her headphones off and laid them on the bar beside the pricey piece of equipment. Soon enough, she thought, they’d all have their freedom—one way or another.

  She started toward Kier, seeing the wolfish grin on his face. He stood, looking down at Logan and the woman, and Eileen knew the only chance the couple had for survival was her ability to take McShane’s attention away from them.

  She tripped on the edge of plush carpeting, catapulting herself into McShane’s arms as he turned to catch her at the last possible moment.

  “Oh, Kier! I’m sorry. Guess my leg went to sleep sitting over there on that damn barstool for so long, y’know?” She grinned up at him saucily as he righted her. She allowed him to steady her, making a show of regaining her footing and rubbing her leg.

  McShane gave her a quick glance, then nodded to the barstool she’d mentioned. “Back to it, Eileen.” He didn’t smile as he released her. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re ah—a bit shorthanded. Leaving your post could be considered… desertion.”

  Her smile wavered, then disappeared. “You know I’d never do that to you, love. Desert you. Or my post.”

  “Do I?” he sneered.

  Eileen swallowed hard as his hand tightened painfully on her arm. She pressed her lips together, as his grip turned vise-like. The bones in her wrist felt as if they would snap at any moment. He knew. He had to know. But how? And why was he only just now saying something?

  “Suppose we return to your duty station, m’dear, and see how…loyal…you actually are, hmm?” He forced her toward the bar and this time, she really did stumble beside him, catching herself as he jerked sharply on her arm.

  He breathed hard with fury, practically flinging her into her previously vacated seat at the helm of the monitor. Her fingers automatically went to the controls.

  “Wait! Let’s see the number! Play it back, for us, Eilly, dear,” he mocked, his hands gliding over the controls, brushing hers aside. “Share that last call with all of us.”

  He jammed the earphones on her head. “Just as you should’ve done when it came through.” He stood back away from her, his gray eyes holding hers, scalding her with condemnation, and something else she had never expected to see. She had managed to hurt him. Her betrayal had shocked him, yes; but it had wounded him, as well.

  “Kier, give me a chance to explain—”

  “What explanation could there possibly be—” he gritted, “other than the facts? Just play the damn recording.”

  Eileen leaned forward, gazing at him intently. “We weren’t sure what was going to be said! I muted it so that your hostages wouldn’t be aware of every bloody piece of information comin’ down the pike!” She allowed a small measure of hurt to enter her expression as she faced him down, her heart pounding. “How could ye’ think I’d ever betray ye’, love? What I did was for you. For your army—us.” She nodded toward the elevators, then murmured, “Would you have wanted Farley and Latham aware of…everythin’, then?”

  McShane’s expression turned cunning. “You didn’t know what I had in mind.” He raised his fist above her.

  Eileen lifted her head. “Oh, yes. I knew.” She nodded, her eyes holding his, as she waited for the blow to fall

  Chapter 22

  Johnny slid to the floor in the cramped space behind the compressors. A searing pain ripped through his thigh at the movement. He gritted his teeth and let it come, almost welcoming it. At least, he thought, he was awake. Aware. Feeling.

  And in spite of everything, he was better...living—and there might not be much more of that left, he thought. Alexa watched him with worried eyes. He gave her a reassuring grin, turning his head away when he couldn’t hide the evidence of his agony any longer. Her comforting squeeze of his hand told him she wasn’t fooled; that she knew just how hard moving back down the stairs to this new hiding place had been for him.

  He had managed, with Daniel’s and Alexa’s help, to make it down the stairway and across the huge equipment room to this place. His side throbbed with each breath he drew, eclipsing everything else. Now, they were here behind a wall of compressors, in a space no more than four feet across and eight feet long. The dividing wall was rough against his back, the same stucco-like material that covered all the walls up here, and it prickled through his clothing. But it was solid, and that was what he needed…something solid.

  Dizziness crept into his consciousness, and even though he felt the wall at his back, he put out a hand to steady himself. His fingertips gripped at the metal to his left—the compressor cabinet, then slid downward. He was not going to be able to control the shifting vertigo. It washed across his thoughts…like ripples in a pond.

  Daniel helped Alexa bring in the last of the supplies along with the blanket and pillow. In the dim light, Johnny watched through half-lidded eyes as Alexa forced herself to react to Daniel as she always had. Yet…something was different. Alexa seemed more aloof than before. Earlier, he’d worried about Alexa’s willingness to trust Daniel too much. What had changed?

  There was no room for Daniel to come into the small enclosure with them. He stood just outside the panel door, handing Alexa the supplies. Neither of them spoke. Another oddity.

  Johnny let his eyes close. He’d seen enough to know that something w
as amiss.

  “How you holdin’ out, Officer?”

  Officer. Back to the formalities. Daniel was distancing himself. But why? Why now? Johnny tried to respond, knowing they were treading dangerous waters. He hated that he’d gotten himself shot. He needed to be protecting Alexa from it all. The terrorists. The bomb. And Daniel.

  “Johnny?” Alexa’s soft questioning made him open his eyes a slit. “Are you okay?” She squeezed his arm in silent communication, confirming his suspicions. “Daniel was asking.”

  Johnny moistened his lips. “I’m good,” he muttered. Then, “I’m good, Daniel. Thanks.”

  “You oughtta be safe here. Safe as you can be, with that bomb and whatnot.”

  “What about you?” Alexa asked. There was concern in her tone, Johnny thought, but not like before. Not like before.

  “Why?” Daniel’s voice hardened, and Alexa stiffened beside Johnny. He forced his eyes to open, and found himself looking into Daniel’s. For a split second, there was an open flare of challenge charging the air between them.

  Every protective instinct inside Johnny leapt forward, and the adrenaline gave him the impetus to sit up straight, eyes locked in silent combat before Daniel finally glanced away.

  Alexa settled herself between the two men, at Johnny’s outstretched feet. Though she did it with a casual air, Johnny could feel the tension emanating from her.

  “I just wondered,” she responded quietly. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of us.”

  “I’ll be around, Lex. I got a million hidin’ places in here, ya know?” Daniel’s voice was tinged with pride.

  Alexa’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “I’m sure you do.”

  Get out of here. Johnny fought the urge to speak the words aloud, anxious for Daniel to go. He was tired of trying to figure him out—and worried that he might.

  The gun…where was his gun? As if he had spoken aloud, Alexa made a show of organizing and straightening their supplies, lifting the pistol without glancing at him before laying it back exactly where it had been.

  Johnny let go a sigh, slow and easy. Something else was worrying him…the cell phone.

  His left hand strayed to his shirt pocket, the action not lost on Alexa…or Daniel.

  Alexa moved to her hands and knees quickly and crawled close to Johnny, straddling his legs. Johnny let his hand fall as she did so, realizing the warning in her green eyes that Daniel could not see.

  “Are you hurting here?” She laid a palm across his chest.

  He played it off. “Guess I must’ve…pulled a muscle or something…maybe when we were coming down those stairs. I’ll be okay.”

  His eyes held hers. They’d talk when Daniel left.

  Alexa crawled backward to the place she’d been sitting as Daniel pushed the door open completely and turned to go.

  “God be with you, Daniel,” Alexa murmured.

  “And also with you,” he returned automatically. He stopped and looked at her. “We used to say that in church.” His gaze went past her to Johnny once more. “Hadn’t thought about that in a long time.” He turned back to Alexa. “Guess God sees everything a man does, don’t He?”

  Alexa nodded uncomfortably. “Yes, I—I suppose He does.”

  “Don’t you be tellin’ nobody what I told you, Lex.” Daniel’s voice was cold. “You an’ me, we understand each other. But…somebody else might not. I’ve told you things my own brother don’t even know.” His brows drew together menacingly. “You better keep it to yourself, understand?”

  Alexa’s fingers went to her throat. Her other hand squeezed Johnny’s ankle hard as she warned him not to interfere. “Of course,” she answered, her voice breathy at first. “I understand.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Daniel. Really.”

  He nodded and shut the door without another word.

  Johnny reached for her, holding her as she fell to pieces in his arms. Her body shook against his as she cried, and he didn’t try to stop her. Any woman would be a basket case under these conditions. Alexa had held up a lot longer than he’d expected her to.

  She had been the force that had held everything together so far, he realized. Without her, he never would have made it past the front doorway. And it wasn’t just her tending his wounds—stopping the bleeding. She had been here every step of the way, urging him to lean on her emotionally. He’d tried not to lean too hard, but everything had caught up with them, finally. Maybe it was that this was the first real privacy they’d had—and that she knew Daniel wasn’t watching, or listening…

  She looked up at him in the dim light that spilled over the compressors into their tiny space. In the next moment, her mouth was on his in a searching kiss, scorching him, melting him, a joining that could only mean one thing. Her tongue played across his teeth and he groaned, opening his mouth, returning her passion with searing response. He shifted to sit up better. The thrust of pain speared through his side at the same time she whispered, “No, don’t,” and pushed him back down with a gentle touch.

  He sank back even further, letting himself slide downward to rest his head on the pillow, the ceaseless throbbing of his wounds ignored as he raised his arms to pull Alexa closer to him.

  Sweet. He suckled her full lower lip for a moment, spearing his fingers through the red-gold silkiness of her hair. He held her head in place, one thumb tracing the high cheekbone as their mouths melded. He wiped away the tears as he kindled the burning response inside her.

  Finally, she lifted her lips from his. “I want to make love with you.”

  He nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then, a faint grin teased his lips. “I wish I could oblige, but—” he broke off, serious once more at her look. “You don’t know me—not really—” But she did, his heart argued, stopping his reluctant protest. She knew him better than any other woman ever had, and in a much shorter time.

  “You’re trying to protect me from myself?” Alexa’s mouth curved up and she shook her head. “You know better than that, don’t you? I feel like we’ve known each other forever. Like I’ve waited for you my whole life—”

  “Because you have,” he answered huskily. He kissed her again. “We both have.”

  “Johnny—there may not be—” She stopped and took a deep breath. “This may be it. So, let me at least just give you—” she broke off and kissed him again, “—a small dose of my best painkiller.”

  He hated to agree with her. But, more likely than not, she was right. It was doubtful they’d get out of this alive. God, he wanted her. In spite of everything, he was hard for her…and the desire he felt overshadowed the pain. He pulled her against him, holding her tightly for a minute as he tried to find the words he wanted. He sighed. “I wish we had candlelight, querida—or moonlight. That we were in my bed—that we had more time—”

  She cut him off with another smoldering kiss. “No. Don’t wish for anything more than what we’ve been granted, Johnny. It’s enough.”

  “It’s everything. You’re everything, Alexa.”

  She’d somehow mananged to get his zipper open, and then her hand encircled the heavy length of him as he sucked in a sharp breath. He closed his eyes as her palm glided over him. She ran her fingers over his hardness, around the top, then the ridged sides, and down to the base.

  “Lex—” he groaned, slitting his eyes open to watch her. There was a teasing glint in her green eyes that made them sparkle, even in the low light of their little cubicle. But it was the love he saw there that made his heart stop. Beautiful. She was… Slowly, he brought his hand up to her cheek, pushing back a loose strand of the polished copper, tucking it behind her ear. “Alexa,” he whispered.

  She bit her lower lip, her eyes still holding his…waiting…waiting…

  “I love you.”

  The moment hung, suspended, neither of them daring to breathe. She leaned forward, and tenderly put her mouth to his. “I know, darling,” she murmured against his lips. “I’ll never forget. I love yo
u, too.”

  “Stay with me.”

  She lifted herself then, looking into his eyes as if she could not bear to believe she’d heard correctly.

  “I mean it.”

  She glanced back at the door behind them, then reached to lay a palm against his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She hadn’t understood, Johnny thought. He’d been talking about afterward. She’d been afraid to believe she understood him correctly. Afraid to believe in them, after this ordeal was over with.

  He would explain later; make her believe enough to let it happen. Her eyes were a different hue now, the sparkling impishness gone, replaced by a lurking note of sadness. No longer the emerald pools of hope he’d come to rely on, they had deepened to the shade of the forest, the sunlight and shadows warring with one another as she tried to hide her anxiety.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Other than the obvious…”

  She gave a short laugh. “Nothing—and everything.”

  “Speak plain, Alexa. Are you sorry this happened between us?” His voice came out ragged and rough, harsher than he’d meant, and she flinched as he grasped her hands.

  She shook her head, looking down to where his hands held hers. “No. Loving you is—the most beautiful, wondrous thing that has happened to me in—in a very long time.”

  “Then what?”

  She brought her eyes to his at last, and he saw the fear and hopelessness in her expression. “I feel so—so selfish. I want to go on forever…being with you…away from everything else—” She gently extracted her hands and worked at pulling his clothing to rights once more as she tried to speak her feelings.

  “And then I think,” she continued, “that I should never wish for more than these moments we’ve been given together. It’s more than I ever expected…” She looked into his eyes once more, “so much more than I ever hoped for.”

  His heart twisted in his chest at the vulnerable expression she wore. So much more than I ever hoped for. She wasn’t used to hoping. And neither was he. He’d given it up long ago, and he felt the danger she was thinking of, now. The danger of daring to reach for something as impossible, as improbable, as this love between them—the brass ring on the carousel.