A Perfect Darkness (23 page)

 

Amy kept scanning the front and the side entrances, looking for movement. Every muscle was knot-hard, ready for action and beginning to ache from it. Soon the guards would return. Eric was only supposed to start a small fire, nothing that would catch and burn the place down. That also meant it wouldn't take long to extinguish.

The movement she'd been poised for caught her eye at the east exit where Eric had gone in. She saw him lumbering out, and…he was carrying someone!

“Lucas!”

Except he was
carrying
Lucas, which meant he wasn't conscious or—please, God, no—alive. Eric weaved as he made his way toward the fence. The fence! How would he get Lucas out?

With a whispered prayer, she jammed her foot on the gas and headed right at the fence. She got a glimpse
of Eric's surprised face in the headlights, then the fence came at her, and then she heard the screech of metal scraping metal. The fence collapsed over the car. Eric climbed under one piece. She jumped out and ran around the front of the car.

“Get the door!” Eric said, obviously thinking that she was running over to see Lucas.

“That's what I'm doing!”

She opened the rear door and helped pull him onto the backseat. Lucas, here, finally here. “He's wet. He's naked.” But hot, which meant alive. Tears momentarily blinded her, and she blinked them away. “Where's Petra?”

He scanned the area with jerky movements. “I don't see her.”

“What do we do?” She scrambled out of the backseat and closed the door.

Pain and indecision wracked his face. “We gotta get out of here. She knows the backup plan.” In case anyone got left behind. Or caught.

Two guards ran out the front entrance.

“Go,” he said. “I'll keep an eye out for her.”

They both jumped in. She wished he was driving so she could check on Lucas, but they didn't have time to switch places. She tore out of the parking lot just as the guards reached the gate.

“Go faster,” he said, and she envied his calm.

They burned asphalt and rubber down the road before turning onto the highway. Within a few minutes they reached the place where they would ditch the borrowed car, then transferred Lucas to the Camry. Looking at the front of the banged-up car they would leave behind, she realized she hadn't left enough money.

This time Eric ran to the driver's side. She climbed into the backseat of the Camry and wedged herself around Lucas's body. He was on his side, bent into the fetal position to fit him in. She kept her gaze behind them, fighting not to look at Lucas. She knew she'd get completely lost if she did, and she needed to watch for pursuers.

Two minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

“I think we lost them,” Amy said.

“We lost Petra, too.” Anger permeated his words.

“She's all right. We have to believe that.”

“She was supposed to scream if she got caught. I never heard her scream. I would have heard it.” He was trying to convince himself.

“She's hiding. There are probably lots of places to hide in a building like that.”

“But how do we get her out?”

“I don't know.” She let her gaze fall to Lucas. Water glistened on his body. “Why is he wet and almost naked?”

“He was in a tub. He's burning up, so maybe they were trying to cool his fever. There was a woman with him, I think. She ran out the side door, and I cold-cocked her. Maybe she was a nurse.”

Amy touched Lucas's skin. “Damn, he
is
hot. Open the windows, let in the cool air.” She opened the two windows in the back. Wind soon swirled in, ruffling Lucas's hair. She placed the back of her hand against his cheek. “Lucas. Can you hear me?”

“He's out of it.” Eric glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “And he might not come out. Just be prepared for that.”

“I will not prepare for that.”

“Amy,
he
doesn't think he'll make it.”

She'd read and watched stories of tragic romance and thought that was how true love always ended. But now that she'd found love, she could not accept it ending that way.

She brushed her mouth against his cheek and whispered, “You will not die and leave me alone, Lucas. Do you hear me?”

P
etra held her breath when the door opened. She saw black pants and blue pumps.

A woman said, “I'm okay. I just need to sit down.”

Someone pulled out the chair Petra had been using to shield herself from view.
Oh, no, I'm busted!
But it was only turned to face away from the desk. The woman dropped down onto it.

“What happened?” the man asked. He opened a cabinet, but Petra couldn't see what he was doing.

The woman hissed in pain but stilled it with a deep breath. “I ran outside when Hanson told me about the fire. I was going to pull the prisoner outside, if necessary. Someone was standing right there, and he hit me with something. Son of a bitch.”

Eric. Despite the circumstances, Petra smiled. This woman was the enemy. She couldn't be bothered to feel bad for her.

“Did you see him?”

“Just a blur. Big guy. It was dark.”

“Here, press this on the wound. You're going to have a real goose egg. Any dizziness?”

“A bit. I'm fine, though.”

“Too bad Peterson left. He'd know what to do. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

She said, “I can't do that. Too many questions.”

“Good point.”

Petra let out shallow breaths, praying that she didn't sneeze.
Good job, introduce that thought in your head.
Dust bunnies had made whole colonies under there.

Another man ran in, breathless. “They're gone. Carl's trying to track them down, but they had a head start.”

They were gone. She felt both relief and bereft. Well, that was the plan. If one got caught, the others had to scram. No point in all of them getting caught. Her phone. She could call them.
Please, don't let them call me.
Even though the phone was on vibrate mode, she couldn't take a chance on them hearing something.

“The prisoner is gone,” the woman said, fear in her voice. “I'm never going to hear the end of this. It was my idea to cool him down by putting him in the tub.”

“Did he have anything to do with this? Was he faking it?”

“No. He couldn't fake a fever like that. The man is nearly dead.”

Petra winced at that. But Lucas was free.

“Does Darkwell know?” the woman asked.

“We called him as soon as the fire was under control. He doesn't know Vanderwyck's gone. I sure as hell don't want to be the one to tell him.”

“He still has the other one. I hope he'll be satisfied with that.” The tone in her voice was doubtful.

The other one. Her? No, they didn't know she was there. Petra shivered. What did that mean?

The woman stood. “I'd better clean up before he gets here, face the music without mud on my face.”

“The other two Offspring have been called to come back, too. Their little date just got messed up.”

The woman remained after the man left. She pressed the pads on her cell phone. “Harry, it's Olivia. You'd better get back here. The Rogues broke in and took Lucas.”

“Oh, hell,” the man on the other end said. “Tell Darkwell I gave Vanderwyck the shot, okay?”

“Why is that important now?”

“Trust me, it is. Get that plunger and shoot the contents down the sink.”

After a pause she said, “All right.” She hung up and walked out. In the second that the door was open Petra saw the pin in the hallway that she'd been trying to use to jig the lock. Her heart dropped right down to her toes. If they saw it, they'd suspect someone had made it this far, and possibly hadn't made it back out.

The room went dark and the door closed. She crept out and, in the dim light from beneath the door, tried to get her bearings. She needed a better hiding place before the man that woman was afraid of showed up. Because whoever this Darkwell was, he was going to be pissed.

 

Lucas was there. Amy could touch him. See him. He was lying on the bed, naked but for a sheet corner that covered his private area. Though they had only briefly met, she knew every contour of his body, knew the feel of the stubble on his chin and the sparse hairs on his chest. He was as gorgeous in person as in her dreams. His olive skin looked sunburned and was covered in a
sheen of sweat. The waves of his hair were damp at his neck.

The tub wasn't big enough to comfortably accommodate his body, so she exchanged damp washcloths in the refrigerator and rubbed them over his skin as he lay in the bed. She paused at the red scar on the right side of his abdomen: from when he'd saved her from the attack. And she hadn't even sustained a bruise during his rescue. It didn't seem fair somehow.

His glow was so faint she could barely see it. That scared her more than anything else. His body was fighting whatever they'd put into him. He had murmured a couple of times since they returned to the shelter but nothing intelligible.

Her heart was a lump as she ran the cloth over his chest in slow sweeping motions. She followed it with her fingers, trailing over his breastbone and the ridges of his stomach and down to the pale area above his pubic bone.

An indefinable feeling made her turn toward the door. Eric was standing there watching her. He was statuesque again, staring at Lucas or perhaps her hand on him. She saw something in his eyes that looked like a curious longing.

“He's the same,” she said, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

He walked closer, handing her a fresh cold cloth. “He's not trembling as much.”

They'd turned off the heat, and the temperature hovered at sixty. “His pulse is stronger, too.” She didn't know much about how fast it should be, but it seemed frighteningly faint when they'd gotten him here three hours ago.

“Do you need a break? I can sit with him for a while.”

“No,” she said too quickly. “I'm fine. Thanks.” She didn't want to leave him. She ran the back of her fingers against his cheek. “Lucas. Can you hear me?”

Nothing. She turned to Eric. He wore such an odd expression, she asked, “Are you all right?”

He nodded, turning away. “I guess you've got everything under control. He's in good hands.” He glanced back at her. “Call if you need me. I'm going to crash for a while.” He closed the door behind him.

She nodded but was already focused on Lucas. She leaned close to his face, touching her mouth to his so softly she barely felt it. “Lucas,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

He shifted. Response! She was afraid to hope and yet couldn't allow herself to consider the alternative. She stretched out beside him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and placing her arm over his stomach. It grew so hot, though, that she had to pull it off. “Lucas,” she whispered. “It's Amy. I'm here. No more dreams, sweetheart. I'm here.”

She drifted off and dreamed. She was on a train, feeling the tremble of the tracks vibrate through her. She reached to the door of her compartment; it was wet. She held out her palm, seeing a sheen on her skin.

She opened her eyes, thrust out of the dream by a realization: her hand really was wet. She was trembling. No, not her. She pushed herself up. Lucas. His body was covered in sweat. His fever had broken! He was still either asleep or unconscious. She ran to the hallway to tell Eric. He was asleep on the couch, the cell phone in his hand in case Petra called. She quietly
got dry towels from the bathroom and returned to her room.

Lucas had pulled into a fetal position, shivering from cold. She turned on the heater and then wiped his body down. “Lucas. Can you hear me?”

This time he did murmur, and she thought he'd said her name. It made her heart jump. She pulled the blanket over him and tucked it over his shoulders. She glanced down at the sweatsuit she was wearing. Without a second thought she stripped out of it, climbed into bed, and wrapped her body around his. She willed her body heat into him as she held on tight. He felt so good against her. Alive. His heartbeat thumped beneath her ear. She closed her eyes and savored the sound and feel of him. If they could get through the night, he'd be all right. That's all she hoped for at the moment.

She drifted into sleep again until she heard a distant phone ringing. Not her ring. Her eyes popped open. Someone was calling Eric's phone. She hated the lack of windows in this place. Perpetual night. The clock read 3:32. Lucas was breathing softly, nice and even. She slipped out of bed, threw on her sweats, and walked out to the living room.

“Where are you?” Eric said into the phone, then looked at Amy as she sat next to him and said to her, “Petra.”

Amy craned to hear the other end of the conversation. Petra's voice was barely audible. “I'm still in the asylum. I'm in some kind of medical supply room. They don't know I'm here. The man who's probably in charge of the program came in and he was over-the-top pissed about us getting Lucas out. I…I heard him
say that as long as he got the last shot, he wouldn't be a problem. But he didn't get that shot so he should be okay. He's okay, isn't he?”

“His fever just broke,” Amy said. “Now we need to get you out of there.”

Eric said to his sister, “For God's sake, don't wig out.”

“I'm…I'm doing all right. Everything has settled down a bit. I had to wait until it was quiet before I took the chance of calling. I'm going to try to get into the locked office. I dropped the lock pick in the hallway, though. I've got to get that before they see it.”

“Shit,” Eric muttered.

“I'm getting a sense of the guards' routine. I think I can manage it before daylight. Then I'll get out of here. I'll call and you can pick me up.”

“I want you to call me every hour,” he said.

“I don't want to use up the battery.”

“All right. If you don't get out by tomorrow night, we're coming in.”

“I'll get out. I have to go. It's time for the guard to come by. I'll talk to you soon.” She disconnected.

Amy moved away from Eric. “Thank God they haven't found her.”

“It may be a good thing, her being in there. She can pick up information. As long as she doesn't get caught.” He pressed the phone against his mouth in thought. “You said Lucas's fever broke?”

“Yes. I'd better get back to him. I'm keeping him warm.”

“I bet,” he said under his breath. “At least I can get some real sleep. Petra's okay. Lucas is getting better.” His relief was audible. When she stood, his gaze swept over her in the too-big sweats. “Keep me updated.”

“I will.”

She returned to Lucas and checked him in the dim light. He wasn't sweating or trembling anymore. She stripped again and climbed into bed with him. He was on his back now, his hand on his stomach. She snuggled against him and laid her hand over his. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of him. That was the one thing she'd never experienced in her dreams—his scent. She synchronized her breathing with his even breaths, not as shallow as when they'd brought him here. She had monitored his breathing by counting between his inhalations.

As she drifted back to sleep, his hand moved against hers. She opened her eyes. “Lucas?”

His face was still slack. An involuntary movement, probably, but movement nonetheless. She sighed, leaning her face against his shoulder again. She closed her fingers over his, twining them together. Sleep eluded her now. She wondered who the woman was who'd been with Lucas. An odd jealousy filled her; that woman had been with him while she hadn't. The woman had cared for him when she couldn't.

“Amy…”

She lifted her head again. He was struggling to open his eyes. She got up and sat beside him so he could see her. His mouth moved but no sound emerged.

“I'm here, baby.” She traced her fingers over the curves of his face. “I'm here.”

He opened his eyes. Beautiful blue-gray eyes, sleepy, slightly unfocused. Looking at her. Her joy transcended her smile, coming out as a laugh.

His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “Am I dreaming?”

She shook her head and took his hand in hers, kissing it. “You're in the tomb. You're safe.”

“
You're
safe,” he said, a smile slowly forming. He touched her face as though he still couldn't believe she was real. He trailed his fingers down her neck, down between her bare breasts. She'd forgotten that she was naked. His hand rested on her stomach, warming her skin. No trembling. His smile widened.

She knew the relief that he felt. It burst in her heart. “Here, drink.” She helped him sit up and then grabbed the bottle of water on the nightstand. He drank small sips until he'd finished the bottle. “I'll get you more.”

“Did you put me in the tub?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “Everything seems hazy.”

“No, that was a woman at the hospital. You had a raging fever. We think she was trying to cool you down.”

“How did I get here?”

Amy smiled in pride. “We busted in and rescued you.”

“You shouldn't—”

She pressed a finger to his mouth. “Save your strength. I'll get you some more water.”

She pulled on the sweats again and paused at the door, drinking him in just as he had drunk the water. Seeing him awake and lucid
was
like someone who was dying of thirst drinking water. He wasn't going to die, like he'd drawn. She closed her eyes and savored the relief in that. “Be right back.”

Eric was sitting on the couch with his back to her. As she rounded the corner, it took a second for her to realize what he was doing. The steady movement of his hand, the flash of his naked leg—she caught her breath
in embarrassment, which made him swivel around. He muttered an expletive as he pulled the blanket over him.

She grimaced, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. What would Miss Manners say? “Sorry,” she murmured, keeping her gaze averted as she headed to the kitchen.