Hold On To Me

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Simone stretched beneath Mitch, her foot sliding between his on the crisp white sheets. Outside, the storm had died down to a gentle pitter-patter of rain against the roof, and the wind was nothing but a rustle here and there. He grunted and moved his head against her chest, his chestnut hair falling over her breast, his eyes still closed in deep sleep.

Smiling, she sifted her fingers through his silky locks, loving the way the tendrils curled around her hand, enjoying the way he was draped half over her on the bed in the cozy little house, his legs intertwined with hers, his arms wrapped around her as if he never wanted to let her go. They’d made love in the kitchen, refueled with cold pasta, then made it to the bed, where they’d started all over again. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, and she hadn’t been able to stop touching him either. And as she ran her fingers down his neck and across the relaxed muscles in his shoulders for the hundredth time, she decided she could get very used to this. For the first time in…she couldn’t remember how long…she wasn’t worried about tomorrow or next week or even next year, because whatever the future brought, she knew she could face it, with Mitch.

A mixture of warmth and happiness formed a cocoon around her heart. She sighed, looked down at him, and smiled at the way his long lashes formed spiky crescent shapes against his tanned skin. They hadn’t talked about when they were going to go to the storage unit. Or what they were going to do with the evidence Steve had collected. And she wouldn’t even know what they could do until she saw it, but right now she was happy not worrying about it. She was getting married. Again. To a man who stole her breath every time she looked at him. To the love of her life in every possible way.

Her fingers drifted down his shoulder and across his arm, and as she reached for his hand, wanting to lace her fingers with his, she realized his watch, the one he always wore and never took off, was loose against his wrist.

She slowly rolled his hand over so she could relatch the clasp she’d obviously hit when she’d been frantic to get him naked. Her fingers grazed the metal. The hook slipped free before she could catch it, and the watch fell against the sheet at her side.

And the world tipped right out from under her.

No, not a campfire burn like he’d told her. A brand. Three daggers, one pointing down, two angled outward to form a cross, with a circle above containing two numbers and one letter. A brand she’d seen before. On that phone screen Ryan had shown her.

She closed her eyes, opened them again, sure her mind was playing tricks on her, only the mark was still there. Small enough to be covered by a watchband, but exactly like the one Ryan claimed her husband once had.

Mitch was a Cypher? No. He couldn’t be. That wasn’t possible. He hadn’t once mentioned any knowledge of or affiliation with the group. When Ryan had been telling her all about Steve’s membership in the society, he’d stood in that kitchen and hadn’t said a word. If he’d been one of them, he would have—

Her blood ran cold, and the air felt like it was sucked right out of her lungs.

If he’d been one of them, he wouldn’t have said a word. He’d have done exactly what he did. Kept his mouth shut. Used her to find out where Steve’s evidence was hidden. Then take it—and her—to whoever was after her.

Her pulse turned to a flurry in her veins, and sweat broke out all over her skin, the flight response as strong as it had ever been. Slowly so she wouldn’t wake him, she maneuvered her way out from under his body and slithered to the floor. He startled, and she froze, waiting for him to sit straight up and ask her what the hell she was doing, but he only grunted and shifted his head the other way on the mattress, then fell back to sleep.

Her mind was a whirl as she tiptoed out of the room and found her clothes in the living area. Dragging them on as quickly as she could with hands that were shaking, she looked around for the car keys. Where had he put them when they’d arrived? He’d come inside and glanced around…

Panic snaked through her chest, making it hard to think, to breathe, to function. The air closed in around her, and she knew if she didn’t get out right this second, she was going to have a panic attack and give herself away. And she couldn’t do that. She had to get to the storage unit, had to get Steve’s papers, then had to find Shannon and—

Oh shit. Shannon.

A new sense of panic sent her already roaring pulse into the stratosphere. Shannon was with Ryan’s parents, and Ryan was Mitch’s brother in law. They’d gone to college together. He had to know Mitch was a Cypher. Oh God. He could be one too.

She spotted the keys to Kendrick’s Range Rover on the bookshelf, grabbed them and fumbled with her purse where she’d dropped it near the front door. She was halfway out the door before she realized she’d forgotten the bracelet.

She raced back into the kitchen and found it on the table where she and Mitch had made love only hours ago. Sickness rolled through her stomach but she forced it back. As she whipped toward the front of the house, the purse over her shoulder knocked into a cup of water and sent it flying. Glass shattered against the tile floor in a crash that echoed through the entire house.

That panic went stratospheric. She pushed her legs forward and ran for the door. Rain pelted her face as she rushed around the car and fumbled with the remote lock. She didn’t look back, didn’t try to see if he’d awoken or followed her. All she could think about was getting away. About getting free. About getting to Shannon.

She slid into the driver’s seat and dropped the keys in the console. She had to push the ignition button twice before she could get the damn car to start, because her hands were shaking so much. When it did, she shoved the car into Reverse, jerked back onto the street, sending water flying, and tore away from the house.

And told herself this time she wasn’t running. This time she was doing the only thing she could.

The sound of breaking glass dragged Mitch from sleep. He pushed up on his hands and looked around the dim bedroom, finding himself alone.

“Simone?”

A car engine revved outside and slowly faded. Water glistened in rivulets running down the windows, and he listened for footsteps or anyone coming toward the house, but didn’t hear them. He also didn’t hear Simone.

He climbed out of bed, grabbed his jeans from the floor, and tugged them on as he headed down the hall. The wood was cool beneath his feet, and rain pattered softly on the roof, but there was still no other sound.

The living room was empty when he reached it. So was the kitchen. But a broken glass and a puddle of water lay in the middle of the floor.

He turned a slow circle, scanning the room. “Simone?”

Sidestepping the glass, he grasped his flannel shirt, hanging haphazardly from the back of a kitchen chair where he’d tossed it after ripping it off Simone, and slid it on. A shiver ran down his back, the house suddenly too still, too quiet, too empty.

He looked toward the kitchen table where Simone had set her bracelet when they’d made love, but the scarred wooden surface was empty too.

Confusion drew his brows together. He looked around the room again, lifted his hand to run it through his hair, and from the corner of his eye realized…his watch was missing.

He dropped his hand and stared at the burn on the inside of his wrist.

Oh shit. No, no, no, no, no…

He raced to the front of the house, tore open the door, and stared out at the empty drive. Water ran down his face, but only one thing registered.

Panic tightened the space beneath his breastbone. He slammed the door and rushed back into the bedroom, searching for the bag he’d dropped there earlier. He rummaged around inside until he found his cell phone.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He hit Dial and lifted it to his ear. Simone’s phone went straight to voice mail.

“Shit.” He tried again, but the same thing happened. “Fucking answer!”

That panic spread up his chest, squeezing his lungs until he could barely breathe. The phone fell from his fingers to land with a thud against the carpet. Dammit, he should have told her. He shouldn’t have let her distract him. He’d been trying to do that last night before she’d rocked his world, before she’d asked him to marry him. His heart pounded against his ribs with a mixture of fear and pain and loss he knew he wouldn’t survive this time. And then his gaze landed on his watch, lying against the sheets.

“Goddamn son of a bitch.” He picked up the watch and hurled it against the wall. The tinkle of glass cracking sounded through the room, followed by a thud as it hit the floor.

He braced a hand on the headboard and sucked in air, trying to get one good breath, trying to think clearly. He knew how her mind worked. He knew what kind of crazy things she was thinking right now. He’d finally broken through all her barriers, and now he’d fucked it all up by not telling her everything. He had to figure out a way to make her listen. But that meant finding her, and at this point, she could be anywhere. She could be…

His mind locked on her missing bracelet from the kitchen. And he instantly knew where she was headed. He just had to get there before she left.

Frantic, he grabbed socks from his bag, stuffed his wallet in his pocket, and reached for his cell from the bed. From the corner of his eye he saw the watch and a spark of silver interrupted by something dark that drew his attention.

He crossed to the watch, picked it up, and carefully picked out the glass and thin, broken face, which was already falling out. Behind that, the gears shone up at him, along with one small black computer chip that had no business being in an analog watch.

Holy shit.

He lifted his cell and dialed. Three rings went by, and his heart lurched into his throat. On the fourth, Ryan’s groggy voice came through the line. “I’m up. I was going to call you in the morning. Did you find it?”

“Where are you?” Mitch asked. Please say you’re in San Francisco.

“Home. Katie and I came back last night.”

Thank God. “They’ve been tracking me with my watch. There’s a GPS chip inside.”

“Shit. Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn. They gave me a watch to cover the brand when I was first inducted. Every couple of years we get an upgrade. Dammit, I should have known. I’m leaving it here. I don’t want them to know I know, but Ryan, I need you to get to Mill Valley before she leaves.”

“Before who leaves?”

“Simone.”

Fabric rustled, followed by footsteps and Kate’s sleepy voice asking, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mitch,” Ryan said softly. “Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep, babe.” Footsteps echoed again, then a door softly closed, and Ryan’s voice came back stronger. “I thought Simone was with you.”

Mitch raked a hand through his hair. He had a giant I told you so coming from Ryan, but he didn’t care. “She just left. She’s heading for a storage unit.” He read Ryan the address as he shoved his feet into his boots near the front door, grabbed his jacket from the chair where he’d tossed it, then moved into the garage. “You’ve gotta get to her before she takes off for good.”

He flipped a switch on the wall. Light flooded the garage. Mitch looked around the empty bays, and another shot of panic rushed through him; then he spotted the motorcycle leaning against the wall under a drape.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Ryan asked.

Here came that I told you so. He crossed to the bike and tugged off the drape. It was a Honda, red, old, beat up from off-road use, but his saving grace at the moment. “She saw the mark on my wrist before I could.” Please let there be gas…

“Dammit.” More rustling echoed over the line, followed by Ryan’s distant voice again. “Dude, wake up. We’re taking a drive.”

“Now?” a sleepy voice echoed. “Will there be hot chicks? If so, I’m in.”

“Kendrick’s there?” Mitch asked.

“He came down with us. Was worried about you, with good reason. What’s in the storage unit?”

Mitch found the helmet, opened the garage door, and rolled the bike out into the rain. “Whatever evidence her husband stashed. Ryan, if you get there first, you can’t let her leave. I’m at least fifteen minutes behind her.”

“I’ll do my best. Mitch, one thing before you go. That reporter? The one who wrote that article about Steve? Katie and I did some checking. Her source was the US marshal assigned to Steve’s case. Holdt. She was dating him. He was a Cypher.”

“Shit.”

“It gets better. You know how Katie discovered there’s a whole faction in your organization who wants to see Dobbs taken down?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any idea who’s in line to take his place if he falls?”

Mitch wiped the rain from his eyes, seriously tired of the twenty questions. “No, who?”

Ryan sighed. “It amazes me how little you pay attention.”

It amazed Mitch too. If he’d been tuned in to what the hell had been going on in his own organization, he’d have known they were looking for Simone right from the start. “Just tell me, dammit. I don’t have time to play games.”

“Chris Murdoch.”

It took a full second for the name to register, but when it did, disbelief followed quickly on its heels. “My Chris Murdoch? As in…my boss?”

“One and the same.”

Mitch glanced from the puddle in the drive to the street, empty and dark but for an orange triangle of light from the lamp above, illuminating a section of shiny pavement. Chris wasn’t protecting him. Not like he’d said. He wanted Simone’s evidence. And that meant he could be watching this house and was probably—right this minute—following Simone, hoping she’d lead him to it.

A new sense of panic clawed at Mitch’s soul. “Ryan, you gotta get to that storage unit.”

“We’re heading to the car. Relax, Mitch. We’ll get her.”

Mitch couldn’t relax. Not until he knew Simone was safe.