Prototype (11 page)

M
y muscles lock, torn between facing the inevitable and fleeing. I know Major Reid said that Declan cannot see me, but my thoughts stumble over one another, crushing all rational cognition. Nothing more than a piece of glass separates me from him. Them. Declan
and
Noah.

I fold my arms, tucking my quivering hands under them. “What is this about?” The words are as tight as my chest.

“You’re supposed to look for any changes in your husband,” Reid says. “Missing scars or something. Whatever will help prove he’s been cloned.”

I nod but do not tell him Declan would have no such distinguishing mark.

“Good to see you, Tucker.” Declan’s gaze shifts over Noah’s shoulder to an area of wall flanked by two bookcases—an area hidden to me from where I stand. His smile falters for only a moment before blowing full force again.

“Mr. Burke. Very good to see you,” Noah says, and motions toward a set of leather chairs. “Please sit.”

I would like to sit too. Maybe put my head between my knees. But I cannot move to do so. I am both frozen by and sick from the scene taking place. The last time I witnessed Noah and Declan in the same room at one time, I had no idea who Noah was to me. Now is a different story.

Declan takes a seat seconds before Noah, and they both unbutton their suit jackets. Declan wears a dark shade of brown today. For the first time, I note the sharp contrasts between the two men I have loved. Where Noah is light and haloed in sunlight, Declan is dark and shadowed by his own lies. Where Noah’s eyes glimmer with gold, Declan’s are a raging, storm-chased sea.

“What is it I can do for you?” Noah asks. “I’ve taken the liberty of looking over recent reports, and it seems your system is up-to-date and running smoothly. Have you been experiencing issues?”

Declan rests an elbow on the arm of his chair and rubs his chin. “No, no. This visit is personal in nature.”

Noah sinks further in his chair, crossing an ankle across his opposite knee. “I’m intrigued.” He blasts Declan with his own devastating smile. I catch the aftershock and stumble over a breath.

Declan taps his fingers on the leather arm, watching them absently. “You know my wife is missing.”

I gasp reflexively. My ex is coming to my ex about me?

“Yes,” Noah says, his smile faltering and then disappearing completely. Declan misses the flash of anger in Noah’s eyes, but I don’t, and it only succeeds in feeding my dark, tormented side. “I’m sorry about that, but I don’t see how I can help.”

Declan leans forward, resting both elbows on his knees. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper and pins Noah with a solid gaze. “We’re both businessmen. Taking risks and crossing lines is an everyday occurrence. Part of how we keep our businesses thriving.”

The following pause is heavy and brimming with hidden meaning. It is as if Declan requires some sign from Noah that it is safe to continue.

Noah finally nods. “Go on.”

“A business like yours with top-of-the-line security systems . . . you must be everywhere.”

“Not everywhere, no.”

“But you are connected to your clients. You have complete access to their systems and must see a great deal.”

My God. He wants Noah to utilize the very system we use against him to
find
me.
Who else has he approached with these outlandish favors?

Noah lets a long moment go by in silence. “What you’re suggesting would be against the law, Mr. Burke.”

Declan smiles and leans back. “Yes. It would. But who am I to judge?”

Noah sits forward and lowers his voice. “If you’re under the impression I give myself the same access you have, you’re mistaken.” I step closer to the glass to hear better, hugging my middle. A tease of fog coats the surface. “The most I have is for testing purposes only. Quarterly upgrades. I wish—”

Declan raises his hands. “No need to go on, Mr. Tucker. I understand your position.”

“Good.” Noah leans back and hooks an elbow on the back of his chair. “Believe me. If it were in my power to help find your wife, I would.”

Declan glances at the wall behind the desk again, frowns, then looks at Noah. I am curious now as to what he keeps looking at. “Off the record, Mr. Tucker, I would consider it a tremendous favor if you were to use your resources to keep an eye out for her. Or even just an ear to the ground. It’s imperative I find her quickly.”

Noah runs the length of his forefinger back and forth across his lips, eyes narrow while considering. Finally, he lowers his hand to his lap and nods once. “Off the record, consider it done.”

His answer knots my stomach. I do not believe Noah will turn me over, but this conversation is steeped in the surreal. Witnessing the lengths Declan will go to find me . . .

“Maybe,” Noah says, “you would be willing to do something for me in return.”

Excuse me?

Declan tilts his head. “Name it.” In two words I hear how he will kill, maim, or steal if Noah asks.

“I have a close relative who would like to see a particular woman jump to the head of the line.”

What woman?
What is Noah up to? First he wants to study clones; now he wants to
make
them? I hope this is not because I have refused to allow Sonya to study me. He would not do something as drastic as all that, would he?

“What’s her current wait time?” Declan asks.

“A year.”

“Send me her name. I’ll see it gets done.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch on both counts.”

Declan smiles and stands. “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”

Noah stands and walks him to the door.

Declan begins to step out, then stops abruptly. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He dips into an inside jacket pocket and hands Noah an envelope. “Invitation to our upcoming Fire and Ice Ball. You own a tux?”

Noah chuckles. “Of course.”

Declan claps a hand over his shoulder. “I expect to see you there with a beautiful woman on your arm for once.”

Noah ignores the comment and looks up from the invitation, a line creased between his eyes. “Masquerade?”

“Yes. In honor of my late mother. She loved the idea of masquerade balls. A night where everyone is given equal opportunity to hide who they really are. To become someone else.”

Reid releases a single, hard laugh. “Now, there’s irony for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The man doesn’t need a single night, or even a mask, to hide what he really is. He does it every day in plain sight.”

I meet his gaze, biting back several retorts. While the statement is aimed at Declan, I am offended. If “what” Declan is is a clone, then I am just as low a creature in his mind.

“I cannot say I blame him for wanting to hide with people like you around to make being ‘what’ we are such a horrendous thing.”

I direct my attention back into the room. Noah stands alone, tapping the invitation in his hand, deep in thought.

“Not horrendous,” Reid says, and presses a button near the elevator. “Just unnatural.”

The glass in front of me parts before I have a chance to respond, opening the width of a door.

Noah faces us. The brightness he had in his expression moments ago is gone. He looks exhausted and his eyes are bloodshot. “I wondered if you made it in time. What do you think?”

I step forward just enough to stand in the new opening. “There is nothing different from what I could make out.” It is the truth. Other than a shorter haircut, and the already observed drop in muscle mass, Declan is no different to me. Proving him to be a clone will be impossible. “I think it is time to consider the possibility he is not a clone. Or at least move on to other avenues to use against him.”

Reid laughs opposite me in the doorway. “No, Mrs. Burke, it is not time to do any such thing.”

“There are plenty of ways to deal with Declan Burke that have nothing to do with cloning. Why not focus on those instead?”

He gives me a wide, toothy grin. “Because this is more fun. Besides, you aren’t in some kind of hurry to end this, are you? Got places you need to be?”

I ignore the jibe, because going into how I want this over more than anyone in this room will fall on deaf ears. And not even for myself. Declan still wants my parents, but I have to believe they are hidden too well to fall victim. “Dr. Travista would have made Declan the prototype from which all men will be cloned. He is perfect. Short of Declan revealing the truth from his own lips, we will never find out.”

“That’s enough,” Noah says, punctuating his order with a resigned sigh. “Maybe it’s time we moved on to something else. We’ll get him another way.”

I am glad he agrees and that my time here in his office is at a quick end. I would like to shower and figure out what my next step should be regarding my parents. Leigh may be right in saying Sonya got to me earlier, but I would like some time alone to consider it.

I start for the elevator. “Sorry I could not be of any use.”

“Emma, wait,” Noah calls, then appears beside me as the down button lights up under my finger. His musk is an assault stoking a fire in my body. I would give anything for the strength to tamp it out. “Stay for a minute, will you?” He turns toward Reid. “You and I will talk later.”

The elevator rumbles open and Noah maneuvers me aside to let Reid enter. I am torn between staying and getting inside the box with the man I would just as soon throw over a cliff than spend time with.

“Come back inside,” Noah says when we are alone.

I follow him into the office and look around for the first time. Movement from Noah’s side of the one-way glass catches my attention. The words “Tucker Securities” bounce around the wall in a no-nonsense font on a beige background. The wall must be the screen saver for his computer.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks.

“No. Thank you.” I pace down the wall and end up at one of two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves behind his desk.

He walks to the window and leans straight-armed on the ledge, squinting out at the sun-brightened city. I know he wants to talk about this morning but is unsure how to bring it up. Because I want to avoid the topic, he will get no help from me. Besides, I have a more important question for him.

“You are having someone cloned?”

His chin lowers to his chest. “We have to find the cloning facility. Whether or not the volunteer will end up needing to complete the process depends on how things go.”

So he is not doing it for the purpose of studying us. That is a relief. “I hope for her sake she will not have to.”

“Me too.”

I trace my fingers along the spines of his books and read a few of the titles. Business economics. I am not sure if this is better or worse than the books in Dr. Travista’s office.

Noah turns and leans a hip on the ledge. “What did you think of Burke? Other than the possible cloning, I mean. Any thoughts?”

“I thought a lot. Like, for instance, I wonder how you plan to give him information regarding my whereabouts.”

He presses his fingers into his eyes and rubs. “Let me worry about that. I’ll come up with something. Anything else?”

“He seems desperate.”

“How so?”

“He came here and asked you to break the law for him. From his perspective, you are a powerful man who could potentially find out what is really going on here. That I am not a captive but a willing participant of the resistance. Why take the risk?”

Noah’s head tilts ever so slightly. “Because he loves you.”

A simple reason that speaks volumes. I understand more than he realizes because I would risk everything for him and Adrienne. But that is my weight to bear, not his. I shake my head and look away from the glow in his eyes.

I walk past the bookshelf to the section of bare wall where Declan kept looking minutes before. My attention lands immediately on the painting and I gasp in surprise. Tears sting my eyes.

I finger the paint strokes creating waves on a beach. The sunset. The luckenbooth cleverly hidden in the sand dunes and beach grass. The sign I once told Noah would be my way of expressing my love for him. The only question is if this is the original we painted in Playa de Oro together or the one he purchased at my show. I am almost afraid to ask.

Noah passes behind me, then leans a shoulder on the wall beside the canvas. He tucks his hands in his pockets, making his suit jacket flare back. His amber gaze is bright as it sweeps between me and the art that once meant the world to me.

“You seem surprised to see it,” he says.

I swallow a lump in my throat. “No, not really. You helped paint it if I recall correctly.” It is not a direct way of asking, but I have to know.

Noah releases a slow breath, stands upright, then positions himself at my shoulder. “I wish I could take the credit, but this is all yours.” He looks down at me. “An original by Emma and Emma alone.”

He reminds me of a time I have not thought of in months. The moment the original version was painted, how he changed the colors in my sunset and added the first luckenbooth to the sand dunes.

But while this is a perfect re-creation, a clone of the original, it is
not
the same. It is mine. All mine. And he kept it.

My stomach flutters and I step back until I am stopped by the edge of his desk. I grip the curved wooden sides with straight arms. Noah sits to my right and crosses his arms. The two of us stare at the painting, a reminder of the time we once shared and lost. Something I held on to even when its meaning made absolutely no sense to me.

After a full minute passes, he bumps his shoulder against mine. “I’m sorry.”

I blink up at my painting, desperately working to check my emotions. “You seem to be doing a lot of apologizing lately.”

“I know, but—”

I bump his shoulder to cut him off and meet his eyes. “It is okay. Really. And I am sorry too. Especially for what my return is doing to your relationship with Sonya. The last thing I want to do is cause a rift between you two.”

He chuckles. The gleam in his eyes is startling and warm. Encompassing. “You aren’t sorry, but thanks. It means a lot that you care enough to lie. Even if it is badly.”