When both were spent, she collapsed against him, and he turned to the side and pulled her back against his chest. Margot was so small against him, her hips delicate, her legs and arms smooth and shapely. He closed his eyes and cradled her tighter against his chest. He couldn’t lose her. Not now.
“I love you,” she whispered into the room. She touched his arm, then clasped his hand against her breast.
Closing his eyes, Jake pressed his brow against her hair. “I love you too,” he said in an equally hushed voice.
He felt something wet against his cheek. Then he realized it was a tear—his tear. He’d never been so happy yet so filled with despair at the same time in his life.
Margot lay awake long after she heard Jake’s slow, rhythmic breathing. He’d been asleep for some time now, but it wasn’t a restful one. Every few minutes he would sigh and flinch in his sleep. His arm flung around her waist would tighten almost as if he feared of letting her go.
Tonight, she’d sensed Jake’s desperation. It had been in his very touch, word and action. He was slipping from her grasp, both physically and emotionally, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. To see this man lose the very passion for life that she loved the most about him broke her heart.
What was the point of living? What the hell was it all about? Was life some sick joke? Just when she thought it might hold meaning, learning about Jake’s looming death smashed it to the ground. Margot didn’t understand anything, and she didn’t know if she wanted to anymore—not alone.
She couldn’t lose Jake. Not now. Not when she’d just found him. She’d lost too many people in her life already—her parents, Johnny, even Malcolm or the man she’d mistaken him to be. Now there was Jake. If fate had her wish, another loved one would be ripped out of her life.
Margot closed her eyes against the tears and clamped down on the wave of panic drowning her. She couldn’t lie here all night and do nothing. She’d only toss and turn, aggravating Jake’s already fitful sleep.
Ever so gently, she slid Jake’s arm from her waist and edged out of bed. She padded over to the chair where she’d thrown her clothes and quickly dressed. Once downstairs, she shrugged into her jacket, stuck her feet into a pair of boots and closed the front door softly behind her.
A half-moon and a thick splash of stars suspended in the night sky illuminated the path to the lab. The landscape was silent, calm and at odds with the turmoil churning through her insides. She shivered although the down jacket shielded her from the winter air.
Evening knowing Jake and Malcolm must have combed through the lab, she still felt compelled to do the same. Granted, she’d avoided searching Johnny’s equipment and files until now. She hadn’t had the stomach to deal with the painful reminders of his death.
Once inside the lab, Margot closed the door and snapped on the light switch by her shoulder. She avoided looking at the table where she’d made love with Jake hours before, knowing she’d just get emotional. She glanced over to the office doorway in the back and then to the cabinets lining the upper and lower right wall, but the hum of the refrigerator against the opposite wall drew her across the room.
She opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. A black case rested on the top shelf. She pulled a vial from its bed and turned the cool glass between her fingers. The clear liquid glittered against the refrigerator’s interior light.
“Miracell,” she whispered.
With the vial still in her hand, she closed the refrigerator just as the front door opened. Jake must have woken and seen the light coming from the barn.
“I take it you couldn’t sleep either?” She turned around and froze.
“Sleep? Not a wink.” Malcolm smiled. “I started to wonder if I’d ever get you alone.”
He closed and locked the door.
CHAPTER 17
“What are you doing here?” Margot hated the way her voice quivered with fear. But then, she was afraid. He was supposed to be in jail or somewhere very far away.
Malcolm didn’t answer but casually advanced toward her, the soles of his boots a menacing scrape against the linoleum floor.
She saw the very big, very threatening gun in his hand and tried not to panic. She edged backward, past the refrigerator toward the office at the back of the building. “You won’t get away with it. If you shoot me, Jake will hear—”
“Exactly. He’ll come running. Then I’ll have to kill him. So if you don’t want his death on your hands, I’d suggest you do what I ask.”
His words didn’t make her feel better. Actually, they magnified her panic and increased her urge to run that much more. But she couldn’t get to the front door. Not with him smack in the middle of the way. And even if by some miracle she reached the office and locked the door before Malcolm shot her, she’d only get herself trapped inside four windowless walls. Then he only had to put a bullet in the lock to get at her.
But most importantly, if she acted rashly, she’d jeopardize Jake’s life.
“What do you have there?” Malcolm pointed the gun at her hand as he closed the distance between them.
“Nothing.” She closed a fist over the vial.
“Nice try. It’s Miracell.” He laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that lifted the hairs on the back of Margot’s neck.
Suddenly, Malcolm lunged, grabbed her hand holding the formula, and started dragging her. Straining backward, digging her heels into the floor, Margot pried at his fingers. But all her struggles didn’t seem to matter as he pulled her across the room.
She lifted her free hand to hit him in the face, but he shoved the gun barrel against her cheek and glared down at her.
“Touch me and I’ll put a bullet in your face.”
She stilled. His breath, smelling of fish and something harsh and acidic, washed over her face. She almost gagged.
“Do you understand?” He shoved the gun barrel harder into her skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, not daring to nod or make any sudden movements as she slowly, ever so slowly lowered her hand.
“Good. We’re going to walk over to the counter. That’s right. You’re doing good. Just a couple more feet.”
Margot gritted her teeth and smothered the urge to retaliate as she docilely followed him. He let go of her hand, but aimed the gun at her head the entire time he rifled through several drawers. He pulled out a packaged syringe.
Margot frowned. “What are you—”
“Shut up.”
Another jab of the gun in her face.
She shut up.
“Now give me the Miracell.”
She finally understood. Pure horror caught at her chest, and she reflexively tightened her hold on the vial. He planned to inject her with the formula.
“No.”
“Oh, yes you will.”
As he scrapped the gun’s barrel across her cheek and thrust it beneath her chin, he grabbed her hand with the vial, but Margot held onto the formula in a tight fisted grip. If he thought she’d give in without a fight, he didn’t know her, because she—
Margot gasped. His fingernails cut into her skin as he squeezed her wrist, slowly, relentlessly. With each ragged breath, with each frantic heartbeat, Margot doggedly held her ground and fought back the pain. Seconds now, and she knew her bones would snap with the pressure.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Just as stubborn as ever.” Malcolm shook his head, impatience flaring in his icy, blue eyes. “Do you want me to shoot you? Because I will if you don’t give me the vial. And I won’t stop until I go after Jake. Believe me, I’d enjoy killing him after the hell he’s put me in.”
His threats hung in the air between them. She swallowed, hating the whimper in the back of her throat, hating herself for playing the victim, and hating Malcolm.
Margot twisted her wrist, opened her hand and dropped the glass vial, but it didn’t shatter against the floor as she’d intended. Malcolm caught the formula in mid-air. A smile of triumph lifted the corners of his lips, althoug
h his eyes remained as cold and ruthless as before.
She rubbed at her wrist, wincing as the blood flowed back into her hand. In minutes she’d be Malcolm’s newest experiment. She thought of Jake and the torment he’d endured during his attacks. If she didn’t do something, she’d find herself in the same excruciating situation. She didn’t have Jake’s strength. She’d never be able to endure that type of pain.
Panic bubbled up her throat. “Don’t do this to me, Malcolm. You’re making a big mistake. If you would just—”
“Don’t bother. Nothing’s going to change my mind. I want the completed formula of Miracell with its antidote. Jake needs to get motivated. Your life on the line—now that—that should get him moving in the right direction.” Stepping back several feet, he placed the vial on the counter and waved the gun at her. “Okay. Now I want you to take off your jacket.”
Margot took a shuddering breath and grappled for clarity. She needed her wits and a solution to get out of this nightmare. Mind racing, unable to latch onto anything of value, she slowly shrugged out of her jacket.
As Malcolm reached for her coat, she jerked the garment back and whipped it against his gun hand. She sprang, shoving a shoulder against his chest. He stumbled back, both arms going up and outward for balance. She thought of going for the gun still in his hand, but at the last second changed her mind as the barrel swung her way. Instead, she pivoted and leaped around him toward the door and freedom.
She took two steps before Malcolm grabbed her from behind. He jerked her back against his chest by her hair. She cried out and frantically reached behind with both hands, grasping at air and little else. She heard the clatter of the gun and saw it fall only yards by her feet. Malcolm yanked harder, and tore hair from her scalp and another cry from her lips, as he twisted her around to face him.
For several agonizing seconds their ragged breathing filled the lab room. Blinking back tears of pain, she looked up at Malcolm’s savage expression.
“I should have known you’d put up a fight. Even a gun doesn’t stop you from acting up. Well, I’m done with your shit.”
Malcolm pulled back his arm and smashed his fist into her face. Pain slammed across every nerve ending and vibrated through bone and muscle. Blinding white light flashed across her vision. Then nothing.
Malcolm swore under his breath as he dragged Margot’s limp body across the floor. She was heavier than she looked, he realized in disgust. He propped her awkwardly up against one of the cabinets.
After unwrapping the syringe, he inserted the needle into the rubber cap of the vial and slowly withdrew Miracell into the syringe. When he emptied the vial, he pulled the needle from the stopper and tossed the vial on the floor. Finally, he pressed the syringe until a small, bulb formed on the needle’s tip.
Hunching down on one knee by Margot’s body, Malcolm paused as he looked down into her face. Thick black lashes contrasted with the cool marble of her skin, while those lips of hers, dusty rose, thick and sensual, made a man think of hot, raunchy sex. The first time he saw her and met those huge doe eyes of hers, he’d been stunned at her beauty. He’d wanted her, and set out to get her.
At first she hadn’t disappointed him, but then she’d wanted more of him—more than he’d been willing to give.
Enough. Abruptly he thrust aside any lingering fondness for Margot and memories of their short and disastrous relationship. Sentiment would only weaken him.
He sank the needle through her skin by her inner elbow and watched as the liquid disappeared into her vein. She didn’t move, but then Malcolm hadn’t expected her to. He’d landed a pretty good right to her cheek. Even now the patch of broken blood vessels stained her skin into an ugly red.
She deserved it. Maybe she didn’t deserve getting injected with Miracell, but oh, well. Life wasn’t fair. He’d learned that even before he’d hit his teens.
When the last drop of Miracell emptied from the syringe, he withdrew the needle and watched a droplet of blood form in the hollow of her elbow. He thought about getting some gauze and taping it, but he didn’t feel charitable. And anyway, he didn’t have time to waste.
He’d love to hang around and watch Jake’s reaction and the following drama, but Malcolm valued his life. For the next several days, he’d find a safe place to hide. But he’d be back. And when he did, if Jake hadn’t figured a way to get the antidote together with Margot’s life at stake, Malcolm knew even a miracle wouldn’t work.
Either way, he needed to eliminate Jake and Margot and completely wipe clean any evidence of himself from the lab and house.
He tossed the syringe on the floor, and gave Margot one final pat to her bruised cheek. “See you around.” He chuckled at the irony. “Then again, maybe I won’t.”
The lab door slammed shut behind Jake.
He’d woken abruptly, unable to identify the cause, but something about the silence and Margot’s absence drove him from bed. After seeing the lab’s light from the bedroom window, he’d dressed quickly and hurried through the bitterly cold night to investigate, all the while unease following his every step.
Moving deeper into the lab, he didn’t find anything odd. He took another step. That’s when he saw her. Unconscious and deathly pale, Margot sat slumped against one of the cabinets against the right wall.
When he rushed to her side, Jake immediately noticed an angry welt in varying shades of red and blue across her cheek. It looked as if she’d been punched by someone. Falling to his knees, he checked her pulse by her neck and found it erratic.
What the hell had happened?
Then he saw the syringe on the floor, the vial of...Miracell.
“No—”
Jake couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it.
With shaking hands, he brushed Margot’s hair away from her cheek and brow. She didn’t stir. Her brown sweater, its sleeve bunched up to her upper arm, exposed her inner elbow and the line of congealing blood snaking from a puncture wound to her skin. His stomach twisted. For a second he thought he might throw up.
Rising on unsteady legs, he fumbled around in the drawers for some antiseptic. He found a tube and several unopened packaged of square gauze. Clutching a corner of one package with his teeth, he tore off the top, spat the plastic out, and pulled the gauze from the package.
That’s when he saw the taped note. Dropping the gauze, he tore the paper from a top cabinet and stared at the scrawled words.
“Like my present? Maybe now you’ll get your ass in gear and finally discover the antidote.”
Malcolm. The sick bastard.
Hatred rolled through Jake. Malcolm once claimed Jake didn’t have it in him to kill, and Jake had agreed—until now. But now everything had changed. Jake would gladly step over that line. If they got through this alive, he’d go after Malcolm and seek total retribution.
First, he needed to focus on Margot, and only Margot. He could not allow his anger to impair his judgment. She needed him.
“Where’s Malcolm?”
At Margot’s husky whisper, Jake swiveled on his heel. She sat on the floor against the counter, cradling her injured arm in her lap. Her brown eyes stared back at him with a deep sadness, yet...her battered face held a stoic resignation. The expression cut at his heart. She knew exactly what Malcolm had done to her.
Crumpling the note in his hand, Jake found his voice. “I never saw him. You were alone when I came in.”
“I’m not surprised. Malcolm’s probably miles away now. He was always a coward.”
When Margot struggled to rise, Jake tossed the note on the counter and hunkered down by her. He placed a gentle but restraining hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get up. We need to take care of your arm.”
Margot collapsed and rested her head against the cabinet. After cleaning the blood from her skin, he rummaged through the drawers and cabinets until he found some roller gauze and a pair of scissors. He gently pressed the padded dressing against her wound and wrapped the gauze three times around he
r elbow. Then he cut off the excess tape and placed both items on the counter.
When he turned back around, he found Margot again struggling to her feet. Dismayed, Jake caught her by the elbow. She fell against him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes as the flowery scent of her hair washed over him, and for several minutes, he stood holding her, mired in guilt, feeling her slender frame tremble against him.
Jake wanted to tell her everything would be fine, that they’d work this out, but Margot didn’t deserve his lies. She’d never asked for any of this. And because of him, she now had Miracell running through her system.
“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded so useless, so hollow. “With what I now know, I would never have come here. I brought Malcolm with me. If only I’d made sure Malcolm couldn’t get out from behind bars, you’d be fine. And if I’d stopped you from going to the lab—”
“Don’t.” Margot stepped back and out of his embrace. She frowned up at him. “Don’t you dare start with ‘what ifs’. No one’s to blame but Malcolm.”
“But why? And why you? It doesn’t make sense.”
“To Malcolm it does. He thought with Miracell in my system, you’d have the motivation to come up with an antidote.”
“Why would he think that? I’ve worked day and night—every possible minute—and haven’t been able to do it.”
“You were getting to a point of not caring. Maybe Malcolm guessed that. I don’t know. All I know is that you were giving up.”
He clawed back his hair with one hand. “But I can’t do any more than I already have... Don’t you see that?”
“No.” Margot stared up at him, her gaze unwavering. “You can do more. I know you can.”
The enormity of Margot’s situation hit him again. Closing his eyes, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and took in several rapid breaths. “I need to think.”
Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded Series) Page 20
