Cover of Darkness

by Kaylea Cross

  Almost done. Her eyes swept over the crowd as she left the stage. She didn’t see Dec, but Luke appeared at the stairs, and she grabbed the hand he offered. His firm grip calmed her.

  “Great job, lady,” he said, handing her a robe to cover with. “Ready for the rest?”

  “Yeah.” She just wanted it done, the sooner the better. “Is he waiting for me?”

  “In the back.”

  She geared up for the next part of her act, keeping her eyes downcast as she trailed behind him. He made her feel completely safe despite the circumstances. Masood was waiting next to Ben at the door. The Syrian’s dark eyes gleamed when he saw her. She shivered. You can do this. It’s only pretend, and Luke won’t let anything happen to you.

  She forced what she hoped was a seductive smile at the Syrian and let her eyes stray to Ben. He nodded to her, and she could almost hear his words. It’s all right, sweets. I got your back. She sent him a silent thank you with her eyes and gripped Luke’s hand tighter. He squeezed back.

  Masood preceded them into his office, his bald spot gleaming in the recessed lights in the ceiling. His shirt had sweaty spots between his shoulder blades and under his arms. She hoped she wouldn’t have to touch him much.

  “A few of my associates wished to meet you, little flower,” he said.

  What? She smothered a gasp when she saw the four middle-aged men seated around a table, watching her. She fought not to glance at Luke. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was only supposed to be her and Luke and Masood back here.

  Luke’s calm expression never faltered. Okay, he’d already adapted to the situation. Now it was her turn.

  She refocused on her role. “Of course,” she murmured in Arabic, even though her heart was racing.

  Masood took her from Luke, brought her over to meet the others. The hand he splayed over the base of her spine was lower than she was comfortable with, and damp against her skin above the low-slung skirt. He rubbed her there, fingers caressing.

  She gritted her teeth. What did she expect? He thought she was a whore he’d paid for. Bryn clenched her jaw as he showed her off like a prized mare to his friends, struggling to stay in character. A secretive glance, the hint of a smile. Seductive yet mysterious, a little bit shy. From the hungry glint in Masood’s eyes, she figured she was doing a decent job of it. But this meek and subservient routine was not for her.

  He took her chin in his fingers, and she gazed up at him through her lashes while trying not to shudder at the lust on his face. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “If… If it would not be too much trouble.”

  One corner of his mouth went up. “Some champagne?”

  “Lovely.”

  He trailed a hand down her bare arm. “Yes, you are.”

  She resisted the urge to wipe his touch away when he went to the bar. Luke was talking with the others in rapid Arabic, laughing and seeming completely at ease with his new companions.

  Lucky him. He got to be one of the boys while she played courtesan to a sweaty stranger.

  Masood returned with her drink. He draped an arm across her shoulders. “Shall we go get better acquainted?”

  Ew. “I would like that.” She barely refrained from grabbing his meaty wrist and throwing him to the floor on his ass. The image empowered her.

  He sat in a leather chair behind a massive mahogany desk and patted his lap. “Sit with me.”

  She froze an instant. Her stomach turned but she slid into his lap anyway, and went rigid as she felt the erection prodding her backside. Her eyes cut over to Luke. Get me out of here, she willed him, but he didn’t even glance her way.

  Bryn braced her hands against the Syrian’s damp shirt, revolted by the cloying scent of his cologne that tried to mask his offensive body odor. A thick thatch of hair erupted from his collar. She stared at the heavy gold chain tangled in it. Relax, Bryn. Act the part. It’ll be over soon.

  Not near soon enough.

  She forced her muscles to relax, met his hungry gaze.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured, trailing a hand over her hair so the back of it brushed against her breast.

  Her belly tightened to the point of pain.

  The hand slid down her back and settled on her hip, squeezed her butt.

  Her head came up, and she tried not to glare. He smiled, must have taken the action for interest because he gripped her hair in a fist and planted his lips on hers in a wet, passionate kiss. She jerked her head back. His smile widened. “Shy little flower. Shall we go somewhere more private?”

  Oh God… She cast a desperate glance at Luke. Get me the hell out of here, now. He didn’t acknowledge her predicament, but she’d bet he was aware of every single thing going on in the room. How much longer was she going to have to suffer this? Masood had grown impatient, was sliding his slimy mouth down her neck toward her breasts. She shuddered, wanting to kick his ass. “I—”

  The back door burst open. She jumped. Masood jerked and swiveled his chair about.

  Bryn froze. A man stood in the doorway holding a shotgun. She raised her terrified gaze to his face. A scar bisected his chin.

  The waiter from the embassy. The one who’d gestured slitting her throat.

  Terror snaked through her.

  “T-Tehrazzi,” Masood blurted, body rigid beneath her.

  As if on cue, he appeared in the doorway.

  Oh shit. Her heart slammed. His green eyes burned as he stared back at her with recognition.

  The scarred man next to him raised the shotgun.

  No!

  Her hands flattened against Masood’s shoulders as her muscles gathered to shove away. She saw Luke erupt from his chair and take a lunging step toward her.

  Too far away.

  Her head swung back around.

  In slow motion, the gun barrel came up. Glinted in the light. Two black holes stared out of the muzzle. Pointed at her.

  Masood shrieked. Raised his arms over his face.

  No! She threw her hands up to shield herself as the shot exploded.

  ****

  Dec stayed where he was as Ben approached the bouncer, said something to him. The man laughed and stood there chatting. Everything was okay so far, or Ben would have alerted him otherwise. Now they had to wait and see which of the four men got to take Bryn home with him.

  He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Still no sign of Tehrazzi. Just as well. The tracking devices were planted. If he didn’t show, they would find him soon enough.

  Turning his head, he spared a glance at Ben. His body language was tense, his face grim. When his hand moved toward his belt where he had hidden a sidearm, Dec began making his way over to him.

  Ben turned to him, his eyes brimming with shock and horror. His mouth moved in an unmistakable F-bomb.

  As his blood pressure nosedived, Dec knew. Somehow Tehrazzi was already in that room with Bryn.

  “Christ,” he breathed, sprinting into action.

  Two shots rang out from the back room.

  The place went silent, then chaos erupted.

  Heart in his throat, Dec muscled his way through the throng, weapon up. Ben and the bouncer had already plowed through the door.

  His fear for Bryn made sweat break out on his forehead. Nearly there, but it was like trying to swim upstream through a merciless current as the crowd pushed and jostled, dragging him backward with them in their panic to escape.

  Elbowing people out of his way, he finally made it to the back room only to find it empty, except for a pool of blood soaking the carpet beneath the desk. Crimson spatters covered the wall. The warm, metallic smell of it hit him. His heart careened in his chest. Please, God, don’t let it be Bryn’s.

  With his pistol gripped between his hands, he crept along the wall and ducked his head through another doorway, checking the adjoining bathroom. More smears of blood. Above the hand dryer, a window stood open. Bloody handprints stained the sill. He edged closer. A fragment of gold cloth hung
from the frame, its beaded, bloodstained fringe glinting under the fluorescent light.

  All the air rushed out of his lungs. “Bryn!”

  ****

  “Go, go, go!” Ben yelled in her ear, shoving her down the darkened alley.

  Bryn ran headlong in her bare feet as fast as her skirt would let her, heart thundering in her ears. Tehrazzi and his men were out there behind her, gunning for her. Terror gave her feet wings.

  Ben’s shoes pounded behind her, so close his rapid breathing fanned the back of her neck. The heel of his hand pressed into her spine. As they neared another alley he shoved her sideways into it, and she slammed into a wall before righting herself and pressing against it, gasping. The brick felt cool and rough against her bare back.

  “Run,” he snapped, eyes scanning the darkness the way they’d come, pistol in hand. “I’ll catch up.” When she didn’t move, he turned those pale green eyes on her. “I said go. Now.”

  She obeyed, sprinting on wobbly legs. At the far end of the alley, voices floated toward her. Angry male voices, speaking Arabic. She skidded to a stop, heard Ben’s feet behind her and darted to the right. The alley snaked left, then right. Dead end ahead.

  She spun around. Backtracked to a side alley she’d passed and ducked down it. Her breath sawed in and out. She followed the twisting labyrinth, fear pushing her on. A stitch burned in her side but she kept going until she reached another turn.

  Here she stopped, bent over at the waist to suck in air, legs trembling. Silence. No voices, no footsteps. Had she lost Ben? She had no idea where she was. All the buildings looked the same. A whimper caught in her throat. What if Ben and Luke never found her? The scent of blood rose up to her nostrils, making her stomach lurch. She’d been sitting on Masood’s lap when the scarred man had blown a hole in his chest, barely missing her. She shuddered at the memory.

  Soon she had her breath back, but she was still alone. A few parked cars lined the alley, a cat slunk past out of view. Something rustled along the gutter. A rat maybe. She shivered.

  Wait—something else. She strained to hear it again. There. Voices. To her right. Speaking Arabic? She didn’t plan to hang around and find out. She spun on her bare heel. A muffled shout, then the thud of running feet reached her ears.

  She ran and ran, soles slapping against the ground, but the footsteps advanced. A sob caught in her chest. She rounded another corner and came out on a street. Frozen, she blinked in the light, lost and terrified. Another shout behind her. She took off.

  Breath straining in and out, she sprinted down the block, slowing as she approached another alley. Glancing behind her, she saw nothing, stood there shaking before pivoting forward again.

  And smacked straight into a tall, hard male body. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around the corner into the dark.

  She screamed and instinctively drove her fist upward, but her attacker blocked it, using his weight to pin her against the wall. Squashed flat, she couldn’t gain enough breath to scream, and thrashed in his grip.

  “Bryn. Bryn!”

  She stopped fighting. The faint glow of a streetlight around the corner gave her enough light to see. Trembling from head to foot, she looked up into a pair of golden-brown eyes. “Dec,” she cried, crumpling against him.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, stepping back to run his hands over her. “You’re covered in blood.”

  “Not mine,” she wheezed, willing her heart to slow down. “Masood’s. He’s dead. Tehrazzi’s bodyguard shot him. Luke went after him.”

  “I know. Look, there’s a car waiting for us just down the street. Only two more blocks, then we’re home free.”

  She nodded, so overjoyed to see him she felt like crying. “Okay.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the street, checking left and right, gun in his free hand. Bryn strode beside him, watching his every move. They were in a rough area of town. Figures lurked in doorways and windows, watching.

  Partway down the first block, they heard it at the same time—someone behind them approaching at a run.

  We aren’t going to make it.

  Instantly Dec grabbed her and pushed her into a darkened doorway, shoved his gun in his waistband and lifted her leg to wrap it around his hip. She gasped, grabbing his leather jacket to steady herself, staring up into his shadowed eyes. What was he doing?

  They waited, listening, their bodies pressed so closely together she could feel his chest move as he breathed. His body heat warmed her, his fresh scent enveloping her. A minute ticked by. Two. He didn’t ease up from her. She quivered against him, part fear, part arousal, and his body responded.

  She held her breath at the feel of his erection against her lower belly and stared into his face, their gazes locking.

  A muted voice floated through the darkness. “A woman…dressed in a dance costume. Did you see her running this way?” Arabic. A muttered reply followed, then the footsteps resumed. Closer with each passing second. What were they going to do? She tightened her fingers on Dec’s shoulders.

  “Bryn?”

  She swallowed, afraid even though he was protecting her with his body. “What?”

  “Go with this, okay?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to reply, just took her face in his hands and leaned down to cover her mouth with his. She gasped, and he took advantage by angling his head, sliding his tongue along her lower lip before stealing inside.

  A shockwave of heat flashed through her. Her fingers clenched as she arched upward, a moan of confusion escaping as he explored her mouth with devastating skill. Shouldn’t they be running? His mouth was so warm, and he was so good her eyelids fluttered down.

  A thumb swept over her cheekbone. His other hand trailed down her throat and over her shoulder, sparking electricity in its wake. She made a murmur of protest, not understanding how she could be responding to him under the circumstances.

  The treads on the sidewalk grew louder, but he continued to kiss and caress her as though they were about to fall onto a bed somewhere, as though they weren’t in mortal danger. She shook in his embrace, torn between wanting him and the fear they would be shot dead any second.

  When his hand slid down over the curve of her breast, she gasped into his mouth, eyes flying wide as those footfalls grew louder and louder while her body trembled under his touch.

  “Shh,” he murmured against her lips. “Kiss me back.”

  Footsteps echoed. Their pursuer was almost on top of them now.

  Dec’s thumb grazed her nipple, and her concentration splintered. Battling the drugging sensations, she swallowed a moan, straining against him as he kissed her and wedged his thigh between hers, pressing right where she throbbed and burned.

  Surely this was carrying pretense a little too far? she thought wildly. They were about to be killed, and he was all over her. She pushed against his sternum.

  But Dec continued to seduce her with his mouth, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling from his chest as though he wanted to yank her skirt up and take her right there in the doorway.

  Which was exactly what he wanted their tail to think. Anyone on the run wouldn’t be getting busy in a back alley, would they?

  Her heart slammed against her ribs as she kissed him back, distracted, flinching at each measured footfall behind them.

  When the paces slowed to a stop, Bryn jerked her head from his grasp but Dec held her fast, kissing her so deeply that all that came out was a throaty moan. Every muscle in her body wound tight as a wire. She hung in his grip like a living statue, unresponsive. A beat passed, then another, and finally whoever was looking for them continued past them.

  Dec finally released her mouth, hovered a breath away. And waited. Minutes elapsed.

  She sagged in his arms. He lifted his head, still checking whether the man was coming back. He was so beautiful, she thought in despair as she gazed up at him. Was this as close as she would get to having him? An act played out in a shadowed doorway?

&nbs
p; She closed her eyes and tried to calm her swirling emotions, focusing on the strength of his body, his heat seeping into her. His clean, spicy fragrance filled her lungs. Relief made her legs weak. The one wrapped around him fell from his hip.

  He straightened, gazed down into her eyes. “You okay?”

  She nodded, then looked away.

  “Sorry. Had to make it believable.”

  “It’s okay.” She wished he hadn’t apologized.

  When he stepped back, she fought the urge to cling to him. “We’ll give it another minute before we get out of here.” Then he surprised her by threading his hands in her hair and kissing her softly, twice, three times. The sweet contact spiraled to the pit of her stomach. He lifted his head, grabbed her arm. “Let’s move.”

  She followed, not knowing what to think, what to feel anymore.

  ****

  No one said a word all the way back to the hotel. Ben and Dec escorted her upstairs to her room and checked inside before letting her in. Bryn was barely inside the door before Ben left, leaving her alone with Dec.

  He stared at her a moment, then made a show of taking off his jacket and draping it over a chair. “Go ahead and have a shower,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

  Too unnerved to think straight, she went into the bathroom and confronted her reflection in the mirror above the sink. The costume was torn and covered with rusty bloodstains, her face pale but for the slutty makeup smeared under her eyes, hair mussed and tangled. Her lips were swollen from Dec’s kisses. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Then she peeled off the ruined garments, set the shower as hot as she could tolerate and stepped under the pounding spray. After scrubbing herself, she washed her hair and killed the water, wrapped herself in a towel and dried her hair. After brushing it smooth she cleaned her teeth before pulling on a robe hanging on the back of the door. When she emerged in a cloud of steam, Dec was sitting in a wingchair.

  He stood, gaze sweeping over her. Fighting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny, she reminded herself that while she didn’t look her best, she looked a hell of a lot better than she had before the shower. But what was he thinking right now? Why had he kissed her like that after the threat was gone?