Like enabling his efforts this very evening---
Though the evening was young, the Atlanta skyline was laden with clusters of bright stars. A pale quarter moon hung high and offered some visibility. When the dark shadow moved a few feet away, he tensed, but then relaxed as Marc stepped into full view.
Marc acknowledged his presence with a fast nod before leading the way.
Without a word, he followed.
They headed further along the dark alley, and when the streets were far behind them, they stopped at the base of the tower crane. Reaching and obstructing the skyline at a daring height, the tower crane held three landings, with 100 feet separating each one, and a runway loomed above the operator cab. Attempting to climb the tower crane without harnesses and safety equipment was akin to signing a death warrant.
Which was exactly what they were doing, he frowned, taking the lead.
The vertical ladder was narrow but sturdy as he ascended with Marc following closely behind. When they’d made it halfway to the bottom landing, the sounds of the streets turned noisy again. The hot, muggy air stirred in the skyline and was nearly unbearable as they ascended further.
Several tense minutes later, they reached their destination. At the far end of the landing, a few hundred yards away, there was one possible entry point. The abysmal pathway to a private hell, he surmised, treading ahead. But, one he’d willingly live through to get Olivia back.
Moments later, a dead silence hummed as they ventured inside, and the area was nearly gutted except for the rafters, beams, and electrical wiring. Sheets of plastic covered the concrete floor, and it rustled ever so slightly under their footsteps.
As planned, they both moved to a separate dark corner in the room.
After dropping the gym bag to the floor, Jarrod knelt down and removed the black attire from it. No doubt, the tux probably somewhat wrinkled, he frowned, standing to shed the dark hoodie and sweatpants. Not that he really gave a damn…
A few seconds later, both of them dressed in tuxes, they ditched the gym bags in the large trash bin at the far corner of the room. Satisfied that their physical evidence was buried under the ripped sheets of plastic and other debris, they moved to the center of the gutted room again.
The door leading to the stairwell was just ahead. Built solidly with pine, but still lacking a fresh coat of paint, the door was already standing ajar.
Before advancing any further, he faced Marc in the darkness. “Where is this going to take us to?” he asked, taking a swift look around, and made certain that the small pistol was hidden at his waistband. “We can’t afford to fuck this up---”
“Don’t doubt my efforts now, dude,” Marc shot back real fast. “I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I? Right now, we’re on the tenth floor. We’re going to take the stairs all the way down to the fourth floor. The engagement party’s being held in the ballroom. Don’t worry. Besides the front entrance, the security cameras are disabled, and the security management team is getting a nice clear shot of a stilled image of the hotel area throughout.”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ll give you one thing. You’re damned good at what you do, and it’s no wonder as to why you were a top secret agent. No doubt, you miss the thrills and chills of it, especially since you’ve traded it in to become one of Atlanta’s top security analysts.”
“At times I do miss the world of espionage. But, my last shave with death in Hong Kong was more than enough, making me realize that I want to live a much calmer existence. Besides that, I like what I do now. If I keep involving myself in these wild and crazy antics of yours, though, I might find myself on the unemployment line soon,” Marc joked with a half-crooked grin. “But, we’ve been ass-deep in trouble together since our testosterone-filled youth. I’m not about to abandon you now.”
“That’s good to know.” He gave a half grin, but sobered at once. “It’s time to move. The hour is nearly up. So far, so good---everything is going as planned, and there’s no room for error,” he said tautly. “I’ve taken care of things on my end. Frank T and a few others have been contacted. They’re already in place. We’re right on schedule.” He looked around the dark, empty space. “Once we’re inside, we split up, and I’ll find Olivia.”
Marc nodded in agreement. “My men and I will scout out the perimeter, and keep a close eye on Addison. Apparently, Addison’s courting new clientele. I didn’t recognize most of the names on the guest list which is good. At least it allows us to level the playing field somewhat.”
“While that’s true, we can’t afford to get lax,” he cut in, walking alongside him as they headed for the exit door. “We’ll communicate via text…no active calls. Every half hour, we check in. But, the minute something goes wrong, we contact each other immediately. When the right moment comes, we’re going to break all hell loose.”
***
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the future Mr. and Mrs. Matt Addison.”
The applause erupted in the hotel’s massive-sized ballroom. It was so thunderous that the sound of it seemed to echo from the walls.
From the doorway, the bright lights and vivid colors in the ballroom nearly blinded her, and for a wild second, she feared that she’d faint.
Swallowing back the hard tears, Olivia looked at the massive crowd of well-wishers. There were several hundreds of them, and they were everywhere, spilling as far as the large balcony outside. Probably, they occupied another level as well.
She took in the sea of faces, a few of them kind looking, others not so much, and a formidable air exuded within the space. No doubt, she was in the presence of more than one nefarious evil-doer, she realized quickly.
“Damn it, Olivia….smile,” Marc hissed at her ear, tightening his grip at her elbow. Blond hair slicked back with gel, smoothed perfectly in place, the white tuxedo gave him a gentlemanly look. But, his entire persona was a complete façade. However, he still managed a smile amidst his discord. “Put on the show of your miserable life or bear the consequences later. It’s your choice. More than that---remember it’s not just your life at stake. If memory serves me correctly, there’s a fair young girl around the age of seven or so. Meghan’s her name, I believe---”
“Damn you,” she whispered, plastering a smile on her face. “Damn you to hell.”
“Sorry, my dear, but I plan on sending you there first,” Marc uttered, pulling her along, and soon, they were surrounded by the attendees. A round of introductions were made, none that she remembered or even cared to, she mulled, and once more the suffocating feeling overcame her.
The hour had to be at least past nine-thirty, she realized much later, briefly taking in the dancing crowd. An orchestra played in the center area of the ballroom, and currently, they were striking a string of soft melodies.
If only she could float away on one of the soft notes, out of the room, and back to the place where she was safe and happy, she thought, staring off into the distance.
To Laramie Rock, where the waves were crashing in…and the Canyon Islands, sharing tequila and sunshine with Javier and Luna…to the beach where she and Meghan had shared endless hours of fun…to the yacht where she and Jarrod had began their torrid love affair…
As the orchestra struck a new song, she was jolted from her reverie. Batting back tears, she looked around at the boisterous, milling crowd.
Her heart sank.
Even with a thousand wishes, the result would be the same.
She’d lost everything.
Distracted, she forced her attention back to her reality. Now, she and Marc shared company with an elderly couple, the Thompsons, and it wasn’t a surprise that they both came from old money, meaning that they were bluebloods of the south.
Marc chatted incessantly with Mr. Thompson, and rather than talking business, they discussed their latest endeavors on the golf course. Mrs. Thompson worked to hold her attention while chattering non-stop. As the woman rambled on, she offered a strained smile, but she paid little heed to her word
s. When the maitre d swept past, she snagged a glass of champagne and gulped it down fast, nearly strangling herself in the process.
“Are you alright, dear? It never does good to drink fast,” Mrs. Thompson chided, patting her back gently, and studied her close. “My goodness, dear child…you’re as pale as a ghost!”
“Olivia has never taken to the spirits very well, I’m afraid,” Matt laughed, but it didn’t quite resonate. He gave a phony smile. “All this excitement is too much for her at the moment. Or rather, she realizes how important this evening is.”
“I’m certain she does,” Mr. Thompson said, and it seemed that his white mustache twitched as his wizened blue eyes fell on her. Then, his tone took on a teasing note. “The poor girl is probably questioning her decision in marrying you, old boy.”
She arched a brow. “You’ll never realize how many times---”
“Sweetheart, you do look kind of flushed, and I certainly don’t want you to fall ill. Especially not on such an important occasion,” Matt broke in, coloring in embarrassment, and plucked the champagne glass from her hand. “I’m sure that Lillian can show you to the powder room.”
“Come on,” Mrs. Thompson smiled, already grasping her elbow. “I need to freshen up a bit myself.”
“Thank you,” she uttered, allowing herself to be led away.
But, their journey was interrupted more than once, to her chagrin, and she was forced to show a false sense of happiness and gaiety. The powder room was only several feet away, she noted, looking past Mrs. Thompson who was deep in conversation with the small group of women surrounding them.
Her gaze moved past another sea of faces, finally landing on the lone figure hovering at the dark corner near the restroom area. Within the shadows, he stood, watching her with an intensity that thrilled her to the core. They hid him well, but still, she made out the sharp tuxedo that molded along his lean form.
Their eyes locked….held…and they were both imprisoned. A familiarity, a deep awareness…it flowed in the air. The intense stare---it probed her very soul.
And wouldn’t it know him anywhere.
In the light……
In the dark……
Within the mouth of any madness……
At once, their dangerous attraction flared to life.
As she had countless times, she began to freefall---
All thoughts of everything and everyone else fled.
The fresh tears welled in her eyes.
On their own volition, the naked sobs fought to break free. But, she forced them back.
A rush of pure adrenaline raced through her veins, awakening her from the dark pits of inner despair, and she became alive.
The shadows played across his face as he stepped further into the light.
She fought to breathe.
To strike some kind of balance or semblance between insanity and reality---
There he was….
In the flesh…alive and breathing…
As her eyes flicked over him, the raw pain played across his visage, and the sheer potency of it nearly stifled her. No doubt, her own pain was mirrored across her face.
She inhaled a sharp breath.
Jarrod…dear God…it was him
No…no…no…yes…yes….yes….
A torrid fear for his safety…
A bare elation at the sight of him…
The conflicting feelings surged through her at once, and she didn’t know which to embrace first.
He made movement to leave the shadows, but as the throng converged from around the corner, he held back. To her disappointment and despair, they stood right in her line of vision, blocking him from her sight.
Stricken by what was transpiring, she barely registered Mrs. Thompson’s words as she spoke.
“Olivia, I hope that you’re not falling ill. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost---”
“Excuse me,” she said breathlessly, pushing past the stunned women in a fast hurry, and almost tripped in the expensive evening gown. “I have to go.”
To her relief, Mrs. Thompson didn’t follow.
Almost frantic now, she pushed her way through the burgeoning crowd. Certainly, they probably thought her behavior boorish, especially since she ignored their endless congratulatory remarks.
A few moments later, she’d broken free of the throng entirely.
She rushed ahead.
The dark corner was empty.
Devoid of anyone…
“No,” she whispered, distraught, and looked around the space wildly. “You were here. I know you were.”
But, maybe, somehow, she had conjured him up in her mind. A precious figment of her tortured imagination…And if she wanted him to stay alive, they had to be apart.
At the thought, her tears broke free.
She fled to the ladies room.
Although the huge restroom area held more than one stall, she bolted the lock anyway because she needed to escape if just for a moment. Only her broken breaths filled the area as she looked around.
Like the other areas of the hotel, the restroom was elegantly furnished and designed. Even a small part of the floor was carpeted. A settee rested in the corner…a large floor-length mirror to the far right…globed lights overhead…a doubled paneled door that led to a walk-in linen closet…
Distraught, weeping openly, she pushed away from the door before rushing to the sink. Once reaching it, she turned the cold water on full blast. “What’s wrong with me? I must be going out of my mind thinking that you were here,” she hiccupped, sobbing under her breath. “And being with me will only mean that your life is over.”
For a few seconds, she watched the water spiral down the drain before pooling it into her shaky hands. Uncaring of her makeup, she splashed the water against her face, mixing it with the fresh tears streaming along it.
Sniffling, she raised her head and looked in the mirror. Her attention went to the stall as a slight noise sounded within it. She watched in the mirror as the brass knob turned slowly on the stall door, and the door began to swing open.
Her heartbeat quickened.
In her haste, had she locked someone else inside?
When the door opened wide, she nearly fainted to the floor. There he was----in all his magnificent glory…every raw, sexy male inch of him…
Jarrod’s tortured gaze met hers in the mirror.
With a single word, he ignited her world with living fire. “Olivia.”
“No, you can’t be here,” she sobbed raggedly, transfixed by his deep stare, and the raw emotions within his eyes crippled her. “They’ll hurt you…and I can’t bear that. It’s best for everyone if you just walk away from me---”
Even as she murmured the words, he moved closer and closer. Breathing fast, she whirled around, afraid that he simply was an apparition. Weakened, she leaned against the sink as he approached.
“If I walk away from you, my life is as good as over,” he rasped, advancing towards her, and the pain seized his handsome features. “Don’t ask me to let go of the very thing that I’m living for.”
Stunned, she stayed silent and didn’t breathe again until he stopped before her. Releasing a low whimper, she placed her badly trembling hands against his broad chest, feeling the very life beating within him. Her tears spilled over again. “Jarrod…..”
“Baby,” he whispered again, grasping the back of her nape, and hauled her forward. “I swear to you---we’ll never be apart again.”
She bit her trembling lips, tried to control the broken sobs, but failed. The scent of musk cologne assailed her senses as she collided into his chest. And being in his arms again, she mulled dazedly, it was all that she wanted. She leaned into him, absorbing the strength from his hard body.
“I was so afraid that I’d never see---” she cried, burying her face in his chest, unable to finish her words.
Grasping her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “Hey, look at me…we’re together now,” he murmured, wiping her tears away. “Th
at’s the only thing that matters.”
“I’ve been so alone,” she whispered tearfully. “I—I”
“You’re not anymore, I promise you that. What has he done---tried to erase everything that’s you? All the son-of-a-bitch wants is a trophy wife on his arm, all beautifully made up with little to no voice. But, I’ll be damned if I let that happen,” he vowed angrily, running his hands against her nape. He loosened the pins in her hair, causing her thick dark tresses to spill to her shoulders. His expression turned serious. “Are you okay?” he asked, framing her face in his hands, drawing her closer to him. As he brushed a kiss along her forehead, she trembled from the innocent touch. “Has that bastard hurt you or forced you into something you didn’t want?”
“Physically…no…These last weeks, he’s done everything to break me emotionally.” She closed her hands over his. “But, he was too late because I was broken the moment I was forced apart from you and Meghan. And Jarrod, he’s been telling so many lies against you,” she admitted quietly, and her eyes roamed over his face. “He has accused you of horrible things. The biggest lie of all is that you’ve been using me from the very beginning.” A broken sob left her. “He even dredged up these bogus kidnapping charges against you. You’d never use me that way or betray my trust. I know that it’s not true and that they’re all lies---”
The raw pain flashed in his eyes. “Olivia---”
“You love me. I know that you’d never hurt me,” she whispered, biting her trembling lips, and then the coolness met her as he pulled away. With a stricken expression, she watched him. “Jarrod, what is it?”
“We have to talk, but not here, and I promise that I’ll explain everything later,” he said hoarsely, avoiding her gaze altogether. But, then he moved close again as he grabbed her hand. “Right now, I’m going to work on getting you the hell of out of here.”
The Darkest Danger (Shattered Series Book 2) Page 3
