Embrace The Night (30 page)

She had to call him on it; he was always so sober and serious. “Did you just…smile? Well, not really, but almost?”

Now his mouth lifted again and…
holy cow
…he
did
smile. Briefly, but it was there, in the glow of the flashlight.
Whoa
. What that did to her belly. And what thoughts it put in her mind…the mobility of those lips. Those perfect, perfect lips.

Whew.

“I mean…it’s not like someone just figures out they can turn invisible. Unless you were born that way and your mom taught you or something?”

His eyes had widened, then narrowed with humor, then sobered again. “I didn’t know my mother. And no, I wasn’t born this way. If I had been…” His voice trailed off and he glanced out into the distance, as if looking beyond the walls of the attic. “If I had been, things would have been a lot different.”

“So…?” she prompted.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking up something on the computer?” he asked, straightening the blanket beneath them, as if he needed something to do with himself.

“I will, but I can still listen.” She obediently pulled out Julie Davis Beecher Corrigan’s heavy, clunky laptop. She could look for a plug in the attic, but it would be easier and faster to use the hand-cranked power bloc that Lou had created for such emergencies, so she plugged the old laptop into it.

“It was an accident that I figured it out,” he said. As often happened when he spoke low and easy, that exotic accent flavored his words. She wanted to ask him about that.

Suddenly, she wanted to ask him about
everything
.

She opened the computer and waited for it to boot up, listening to the whirr and crank that made it sound like it was on its last legs. It probably was, for it had been a miracle it had survived fifty years or more. Sage wasn’t sure she believed in guardian angels, but if this computer belonging to her grandmother ended up having information that helped them escape, she would definitely become a believer.

“It was weird…I happened to be in a place…this was after all of us—Wyatt, Quent, Elliott, Fence, and his partner, Lenny, and I—came out of the cave in Sedona. Lenny’s dead,” he added as she drew in her breath to ask. “He died about a month after we got out. An infection. That’s how we know that though we’re…different…we’re not immortal. Like the Strangers.”

“Is that bad?” she asked, not quite sure how she felt about it. Living forever while everyone else around you died would be sad and eventually boring, but at the same time, she wasn’t all that fond of dying in the first place.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not an option. Anyway, I happened to be in a room by myself in an old building…just needed to be alone for a few minutes. Wyatt and Quent walked in, and they thought they were alone, and they started talking about something very personal. I didn’t want to be there, but couldn’t leave…and didn’t want them to know I was there, witnessing this very…emotional conversation.”

Sage nodded and glanced down at the computer to click into the document “Juliedom,” now that it had finally cranked alive.

“And so I sort of held my breath and tried to…well, disappear. It sounds odd, but I’ve…needed to do that in the past…to not be noticed, and it’s an ability I…had. Sort of. Not like this. But to be unnoticed, kind of melt into the shadows.”

It occurred to Sage that she’d never heard Simon put so many sentences together at one time. She dared not speak and break the spell.

“And then I felt this weird prickling, almost sparkling feeling as I concentrated, trying to be unnoticeable, and…my hands
disappeared
. And my feet. And I realized what I had done.” He shrugged again, those solid broad shoulders moving smoothly, silhouetted by the very faint cast of moonlight from the window behind him. “It fucking blew my mind.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Yeah.” His voice remained low.

Silence but for the faint tapping of her fingers on the page-down key as she scrolled through the diary. She’d seen something somewhere about another exit…a rear door, an escape route…for the Corrigans.

“Ah…” She paused scrolling and began to skim. This was it. “Blah blah…near the Wall…capitalized,” she looked up. “Wall’s capitalized, so she must mean Hell’s Wall…blah…blah…okay, here, she says, ‘An opening in the enclosing wall, camouflaged by a pile of debris. They piled it there, garbage, but Kevin showed me how there was a tunnel hidden in it.’” She looked up at Simon and the expression on his face sent her stomach dropping.

How could he look at her like that and then mention Theo?

Although, in his defense…he hadn’t done that for a while.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Does it say anything else?” His voice…it was so smooth and low, it seemed to caress her. “How to find the entrance?”

“Um…” She looked back down and skimmed some more. “By the old Lexus.” She looked up. “That’s what it says. I don’t know what that means.”

“A Lexus is—was—a kind of car. So now we know what we’re looking for.” He nodded, and seemed to relax a bit, leaning against the wall. “Do you want to check your computer and see if there’s a response from Theo?”

Well, so much for him not bringing up Theo again.

Sage mentally shook her head and did as he suggested. There was indeed an email from Theo, indicating that he would be on his way, and that his estimated arrival time would be about six A.M.

“That’s five hours from now,” Simon said, glancing at the cloud-swathed moon. “Once we’re out beyond the gates, it’ll be only an hour on foot to get there.” He didn’t ask the question, but she read it in his eyes.

“There might be
gangas
out there,” she said. “Do you think it’s safe to stay here awhile, then try to leave? By the time we go, the sun will be close to coming up.”

Simon seemed to hesitate, then his shoulders sagged as if in acquiescence. “If that’s what you want, all right. But I don’t think we ought to wait more than an hour to try and find the way out. In case it takes some time.”

“Besides, we could both use some rest,” she added, thinking of how hard he’d worked tonight to keep them safe and invisible.

He gestured to the blanket as if to say,
Have at it.
Then he got up and silently moved across the attic space, taking care to keep away from any revealing window. She watched in trepidation, afraid he was going to leave her while he did something manly like check on things, especially when he headed toward the small door through which they’d come.

But instead, he moved a large armoire easily and then a trunk in front of the door without making a sound. “So we won’t be surprised,” he said over his shoulder, then opened the chest. “More blankets here—a quilt. And this is a tight trunk, so it’s in good shape.” He pulled it out and brought the blanket as he returned to their corner.

Sage closed up her computers, putting them away, and settled against the wall perpendicular to his. With her feet curled up to her body, half sitting on her side, she leaned toward the corner next to Simon. “What’s that language you speak sometimes? Is it Spanish?”

“It’s called
caló
, which is a sort of slang spoken by Chicanos. Mexican–Americans. It’s derived from Mexican Spanish, and L.A. street talk and other influences.” He sort of grimaced. “Most of the words you have heard me say aren’t very polite.”

She gave a little laugh and looked at his swarthy skin, dark hair, and perfect, chiseled face. Dark hooded eyes, angular jaw and cheekbones. “All right. So you’re…what is it? Chicanos?”

“Chicano. I’m a little bit of a lot of things,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall. She could see the outline of his profile, thanks to the flashlight glowing below…his straight, elegant nose, his perfect lips, square chin, and even a hint of long lashes. He closed his eyes, those lashes sweeping down onto his high cheekbones. “A little Puerto Rican, a little Italian, a little Korean, and God only knows what else.” Without opening his eyes, he added, “At least you know where you come from.”

“You said you didn’t know your mother.” Sage figured she sounded like she was grilling him, but, well…he knew a whole lot about her, and she didn’t know anything about him. About this man who’d really begun to affect her. This man that she needed to know better. Sage the analyst, the researcher, the curious, needed some answers.

“She died when I was young.”

Apparently, that was all he was going to say about that.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with Tatiana?”

That got him to open his eyes and lift his head. “I wondered when you would ask. I’m amazed it’s taken so long.”

She smiled at him, feeling the corners of her tired eyes crinkling. “I had other things to cover first.”

“Like my pedigree?”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so Sage merely shook her head and waited.

“I used to know her,” at last he said simply, resting his skull back against the wall. “A long time ago.”

Sage adjusted her position, which brought her bumping against his arm. “You don’t expect me to be satisfied with that, do you? Especially since we’re running for our lives all of a sudden after you and she had a little tête-à-tête in the back hall.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” His voice sounded like a slap in the quiet.

“Okay, then.” Sage lapsed into silence, leaning back against her wall. What was a bit of dust and cobwebs that might be getting into her hair?

No sounds other than the distant howling of wolves, and the nearby scrabbling of rodents. Thankfully, off in the corners. Not that they bothered Sage, really—they offered no threat, and mice were pretty cute—but she didn’t want to get up close and personal with the little critters.

“That’s it? You aren’t going to press?”

She turned to look at him, rolling her head along the wall and found that he had done the same, and their faces were close, nearly meeting where their respective walls intersected in a corner. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and shadowed despite the glow of the flashlight on the floor below them. “Sage…you are quite a woman. It’s no wonder—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted sharply.

“What?”

“Theo. Don’t you dare bring him up again.” Her voice was hard.

Simon closed his eyes. His lips flattened and he rolled his head away, looking back out over the room. “Where I come from, there’s a line of honor when it comes to a…colleague’s…woman.”

“Yeah? So? I’m not Theo’s woman.” Her voice rose.

“He wants you to be, and—look, it’s a line I’ve never crossed, and, Sage,” he said, his voice growing stronger, harder, “I have crossed a
lot
of damn lines in my life.” And now, weariness. “A whole damn lot.”

“He might want me to be his woman—which I find to be a derogatory term, by the way—but I’m not. I
don’t love Theo
,” she said as clearly and distinctly as she could. Maybe then it would sink in. “What the hell is wrong with you, always trying to push me toward him?”

“I—”

“Do you think I’m some sort of—I don’t know—child? Rag doll? Toy? A damned
pet
? I can think for myself, you know. I don’t have to have a damned man telling me who to be with or—or anything. And I know how I feel—and
don’t
feel, Simon, and if you even
say
his name again, I’m going to scream.” She was keeping her voice low with effort, and realized her words were coming out from between clenched teeth.

“Sage, I promised him—”

“What? That you’d keep me safe? Well, that’s great. You’ve done that—with a little help from me, by the way. But I hope to
hell
you’re not just fucking keeping me safe for
him
, Simon. That’s—that’s—” She was so pissed she hardly knew what she was saying. Other than the fact that she’d used the F-word.

But she didn’t care. She knew what she was going to do…what she needed to do. Because here, and now, she knew Simon was the man she wanted. And since Simon had made it clear he wasn’t going to cross the line, she was going to have to do it. Not that there was any line to cross, in her mind at least.

And now she was babbling nervously in her own thoughts.

Sage shoved them away, her thoughts, her nerves, her fears, and shifted up on her knees. Bracing herself—literally, with her palms on the soft blanket, and figuratively, with those worries pushed away—she levered toward him. He murmured in a sort of desperate way, meant to hold her off—but she covered his mouth with her gently parted lips, stifling any other argument or barrier he might try to build. The time for that was over.

His mouth remained rigid for only a moment, then softened as he moved all at once, his arms coming around her, quick and hard, pulling her close as if to make certain she wasn’t going to change her mind and pull back.

She could have told him that wasn’t going to happen…if she’d been thinking about anything other than the warmth buzzing through her, flushing over her face and body…about the strong shoulders beneath her hands and the slide of a powerful jean-covered thigh against hers.

The next thing she knew, Sage was on her side on the blanket, lying next to Simon in the same position they’d lain in the bed these last few nights. Only this time, there were no sheets and blankets to contain the heat…and this time, hands roamed and slid, caressed and undressed.

Oh, God, he was so strong and warm…and he felt so
good
…Sage lifted her face as he bent over her, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, sliding his fingers into her thick hair and brushing it back from her face by the handful so that he could kiss along her temples and the rise of her cheekbone. So soft, tender…almost reverent. Those lips, those amazing, perfect, angel-sculpted lips…

Sage arched up into him, her hips mashing against his and the rigid bulge behind the buttons of his jeans. Her belly surged and leapt as he gave a soft, deep sigh from the pressure, and she pulled him down on top of her, wanting to feel him…instinctively twisting and rubbing against him, grinding their hips together, pulling him onto her by his belt loops.

Her breathing rose, his became hotter and harsher over her skin as their lips fought and slipped and mashed. Somehow her shirt and bra came off, and then his, and they were skin to skin, sleek and warm, curved and muscled as he rose over her on the blanket.