Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

Tomorrow.

It sounded like a good idea, but something inside Simone wasn’t so sure.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice already drifting off.

She just didn’t know what the hell either of them was going to say tomorrow that they hadn’t already said tonight.

Mitch glanced at the clock.

Four a.m.

He’d drifted off to sleep sometime after they’d made love, but it hadn’t been restful, and for the last two hours, he’d been lying here, staring up at the ceiling, trying to stop his mind from spinning.

Nothing worked.

Simone lay sleeping softly against him, and he looked down. Her eyes were closed, but even in sleep she didn’t look particularly relaxed. And he knew it wasn’t just what Ryan had told her either. It was everything that was happening between them and the fact neither seemed to know what to do about it.

He stared back up at the ceiling. And her words—the ones he couldn’t get out of his head—ricocheted back through his mind.

“Every time I’ve ever needed someone, they haven’t been there for me, even you.”

She was right. Not in the way she’d meant at that moment, but she was more right than she could ever know. He’d been telling himself all this time that she was the one who’d messed things up between them, but the truth was that he was just as much to blame. Instead of listening to her when she’d tried to explain, he’d pushed her away all because he’d been hurt. It was no wonder she hadn’t wanted to confide in him. And now, when she was willing to try again, there was nothing he could offer her except more heartache and betrayal when she finally realized his ties to her husband and the people who were chasing her.

“I love you.”

His heart pinched. How long had he waited to hear those words from her? And now she’d said them, when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix this between them. Not when she found out the truth. And that meant he was stuck paying for a stupid mistake he’d made as a kid before he’d realized what he was getting himself into.

Unable to lie still anymore, he gently pulled his arm out from under her, and slid from the bed. She didn’t wake, just grunted and rolled to her other side, and breathing a sigh of relief, he crossed to the closet and grabbed a sweatshirt and socks.

The house was quiet and dark as he made his way downstairs. Embers from the fire someone had built last night were still glowing, casting an eerie red light over the great room when he reached the base of the stairs. He crossed to the kitchen and picked up his cell from the counter where he’d left it, then glanced at the screen.

Thirty percent battery. Enough for one call. His stomach twisted as he pocketed the phone and headed back for the front door. Shoving his feet into a pair of boots, he grabbed his knit cap and a coat. After shutting off the alarm, he stepped out into the cool morning air and drew in a deep, crisp breath.

The elevation here was a hell of a lot higher than the bay area, and the mountain air cleared his senses. It had stopped snowing sometime in the wee hours of morning, and his boots crunched over the fresh layer of snow as he cut across the yard toward the garage.

A light shone in the upstairs window. He had no idea if or when Ford slept, but he was thankful it looked like the guy was awake.

He punched in the security code. The lock clicked, and he opened the door. The stairs to his left led up to the second floor and creaked under his boots as he moved. Just as he was about to lift his hand to knock, the door pulled open.

Ford, dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots, stepped back to let him in. “Good morning. Or almost.”

“Hey.” The main room of the security center was lined with monitors and keyboards, a high-tech surveillance system that looked like something out of a spy movie.

Ford closed the door and moved toward a counter on the far side of the room. “You want coffee?”

“No. Thanks.” Mitch was already wired enough. He scanned the screens. Every inch of the property was visible from different angles, even rooms inside the main house—the kitchen, the great room, the safe room. “You monitor all this from up here? Every room?”

“Not every room.” Ford passed a spoon through his coffee and took a sip of the steaming brew. “Kendrick didn’t want cameras inside the bedrooms.”

“Smart guy,” Mitch muttered. “I’d have to hurt him if he did.”

Ford chuckled and moved to a leather swivel chair near a bank of monitors. “Every guest would hurt him if he did. There are cameras outside each bedroom suite, though, monitoring the decks and access to the house.” He hit a button, and the empty, snowy deck outside Mitch’s room popped up on screen.

Mitch scratched the back of his head. “Thorough. I guess that’s a good thing.” He looked toward the screen showing the upstairs hallway. “That’s how you knew I was up.”

“No. You punched in the wrong code when you left. That’s how I knew you were up.”

Mitch cringed. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I don’t sleep much. And don’t worry. I check for that whenever an alarm goes off in here. No need to send everyone running for the safe room when it’s nothing.” Ford lowered his mug to the counter next to him. “So what can I do for you at four fifteen a.m.?”

Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “I was wondering if you heard anything about that accident up on Highway 267.”

Kendrick reached for a paper next to his keyboard. “Yeah. It was your car. Plates matched.”

Shit.

“They didn’t find anyone inside, though.”

“No one?”

Ford shook his head and handed Mitch the paper. “They’re going to need more time to examine the wreckage, but my guy doesn’t think this was some random accident. They found a timing device on the asphalt near the site.”

Double shit. Mitch scanned the paper. It didn’t provide any more information, just confirmed everything Ford had already told him.

“Yeah, I thought that was weird too,” Ford said suspiciously.

Mitch swallowed the growing lump in his throat, not wanting to give anything away. “What about the guy who stumbled onto the property the other day?”

“What about him?”

“Did he look like a normal crazed Kendrick fan?”

“None of Kendrick’s fans look normal to me, crazed or not.” Ford rocked back in his chair. “You seem a little nervous. Is there something going on you want to tell me about?”

No. There wasn’t. Not now. Not when in a few hours he’d be out of here anyway. Mitch handed the paper back. “Sorry. Two weird incidents close together just aren’t things I normally deal with.”

Ford huffed and set the paper back on the counter. “Lucky you. I get to deal with them all the damn time.”

Mitch turned for the door, his fingers itching now to make that call. “I’m gonna take a walk. When I come back—”

“Don’t worry,” Ford said, pushing out of his chair, “I’ll make sure I watch for you and shut off any alarms you trip.”

“Thanks.”

Outside, Mitch took a deep breath that did shit to calm his nerves. He’d gone over it in his head numerous times while he’d been lying next to Simone, and he’d hoped Ford would have different news, but now that he knew where he stood, there was only one thing left for him to do.

The water at the edge of the lake was frozen. It was still dark, but the clouds had parted enough to let a spray of moonlight lead the way. He headed across the rocky beach and didn’t stop until he came to a dark section of land at least two miles away, housing nothing but trees, brush and a FOR SALE sign.

Pulling out his cell phone, he steadied his nerves, dialed, and waited. A click sounded, followed by a familiar voice.

“Mathews?” Chris Murdoch, his boss at PreCorp, answered on the second ring. “Is that you? You are in so much fucking trouble.”

Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose. A voice in the back of his head urged him to hang up. Chris’s phone could be bugged. Someone could be listening. They could be trying to track the call right now. But another voice screamed this was the only chance Simone had left. And after what had happened with that car…they already knew he was in the area. “Yeah. It’s me. Listen, I need some help.”

“You’re damn right you do. They’re looking all over for you. I’ve tried to head them off on my end, but it’s not going to take them long to figure out who your friends are.”

Chris was talking about Ryan. And Tate. And anyone else who’d helped Mitch along the way. “Chris, you gotta tell me what they want.”

“Aside from your head on a platter? Shit, you know the way things work, Mitch. The brotherhood comes first. Before friends, before family, before your job. You didn’t just bend that rule, you damn near broke it off. And not just for any girl. For one who could cause serious problems for the entire organization.”

Mitch’s protective instinct bubbled up, but he worked to keep his voice even and calm. Losing his cool with Chris would only make things worse. Chris was a lot like him in a many ways. He kept to himself for the most part. But because of his management position within PreCorp, a major player in the oil-and-gas field, he was in closer contact with the founders of the organization. And that meant he played by the rules. At least way more than Mitch did.

“Simone doesn’t know anything.”

“She was Graham’s wife.”

“He didn’t tell her anything. He kept most of the trial secret from her. She didn’t even know he was a Cypher until recently.”

Chris heaved out a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief. “Do you honestly think she’d tell you what she knows? She’s got no reason to trust you. In fact, she has every reason not to trust you.”

“No, she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t know I’m part of this.”

Chris was silent for a second, then said, “Are you sure of that?”

Absolutely. Simone never would have come to his room last night if she’d known he was a Cypher. Never would have stayed. Definitely wouldn’t be sound asleep in his bed now if she did. And that meant he still had a chance. If, that was, Chris helped him.

Nerves ignited like fireworks in his stomach. “Look, I’m gonna make this clear. You tell me what she’s got that they want, and I’ll get it for you. She trusts me. Instead of hunting her down, they can have it, and this can all be over. But if I do this, I want confirmation they won’t go after her or her daughter or any of my friends or family ever again.”

“You want to make a deal?” Surprise rippled through Chris’s voice.

Yeah, he did. He’d thought about it most of the night, and it was the only way he was going to be able to keep Simone and Shannon safe. It meant continuing to lie to her, and ultimately losing her, but it would be worth it to know he could put an end to this nightmare. At least for her. “I know you can make it happen, Murdoch.”

Silence echoed across the line. Then quietly, Chris said, “They’ll bury you. Even after you bring it to them. They won’t forget that you went against them, even if they do agree to your demands. Are you ready for that?”

Was he? Mitch thought about his life. About what he was giving up. The thought of leaving behind his friends and family and everything he’d worked so hard for scared him shitless. But what scared him more was Simone paying for something that had nothing to do with her.

“I’ll deal with it.”

Time seemed to echo across the line. Then finally, Chris sighed. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

A tiny sliver of hope cut through Mitch. It didn’t mean he had an answer, but if Chris was agreeing to help him, it meant there was a chance. “Call me on my cell.”

Mitch hung up, then stared down at the phone in his hand. There was a chance this could backfire on him. That Murdoch could have traced the call, that someone could be coming for them right now. But his gut said that wouldn’t happen. If the organization had gone to all that trouble to flush Simone out and scare her, it meant whatever she had was important. And it meant they wouldn’t jeopardize her safety just to get it, not when he was all but handing it to them.

His hand closed around the phone as he headed back toward Tate’s house. Take the deal. Take the deal. Take the damn deal.

The grounds were silent when he stepped from beach rocks to grass, the lights in the house still dark, save the one small lamp in the kitchen someone had left on before going to bed last night. He went back around the house toward the front door, quietly eased it open, then typed in—hopefully—the right alarm code. Warmth immediately surrounded him, and a shiver raced down his back, making him realize how cold it had been outside. Adrenaline had kept him from feeling it, but now that he was back in the house, he needed something to warm him up while he waited for Murdoch’s call.