Page 87 of Bared

Jayd swung her stare around, back up at Brick. As fear clanged through her senses, red-and-blue lights flashed across his rugged face. The face that told her so little yet so much. A face filled with so many stories—including the one they were creating together, tonight. Would he remember this tale among the others in his life’s tome? Would he remember her? Because she would never, ever forget him—or give up on him.

Not even now, as those garish lights were joined by others. Portable ones. “Damn it,” Jayd muttered. The flashlights were like a swarm of gleeful click beetles. How she wished they were only that, and she was watching them light up during a peaceful midnight walk on the palais lawn back home…

But this was not home.

And this was definitely not peace.

And they had no time to ponder playful beetles in the night-blooming flowers.

In a few terrible moments, they would be trapped against this wall, locked down by light beams and accusing shouts and a mob of men in uniform who cared not about the real truth here. Who would see Brickham’s face and know him only as a criminal. They would not be interested in how he had rescued her from Gervais. They absolutely would not care about how he had accepted the trust of her body and mind and transformed them with the sorcery of his passion.

They would not care about anything other than their “facts.” About the “evidence” that would look so conclusive. Undeniably damning.

“Creator help us!” Jayd whisper-choked. As she backed up deep into the shadows, her foot splashed in a rancid puddle. She avoided a slippery fall by reaching for the iron bars embedded into a window-like portal along the graveyard’s stone border wall. She almost went down anyway since the rusty bar came out in her hand. Well, at least she had a weapon now. It was not the sturdiest of things, considering it had come right out in her grasp, but it might buy them a few seconds of time.

“Pixie.” Brickham’s dictate ushered her fully back to the moment—not that he needed to use it. Her concentration was full from the second he slid in between her and the rectangle aperture. “Stand back,” he ordered, seizing one of the remaining poles for himself.

When it gave way as easily as hers, she stopped to cross herself with gratitude. Now they both had half-decent weapons—or so she thought. Before Brickham used his bar to shatter the window on the other side of the bars. Once done, he tossed it through the opening.

As the bar karranged on the floor of the office inside the building, Jayd shot the force of nature a stringent look. But he was too busy to notice. He was already ripping out the other two bars over the window.

As he did, full comprehension struck her. It came not a moment too soon, since he wasted no time in turning to her, hoisting her off her feet, and positioning her in front of the totally open hole.

With speed spawned by panic, she curled her legs up beneath her. No more than ten seconds later, she was all the way inside. She stayed crouched as Brickham accomplished the feat in half her time. The man might be as big as a jackfruit but moved with the ease of a palm frond. He was just as strong and smooth about latching onto her hand as he rose, yanking her quickly through the ink-dark rooms of the cemetery’s operations cottage.

She said another prayer of gratitude when they got to the door that led all the way outside. It was not locked on the inside, nor did it appear to have any security fixtures.

But assumption was a dangerous thing.

As soon as Brickham cracked the portal to get a visual fix on the gendarmes, the building flared with stringent sirens. Jayd was fairly certain her ears would be screaming with the sound for days. Brickham nailed her with his own stunned stare, and they shared the worst what-the-hell-now moments she had ever known. Courtesy of her brothers and their outrageous pranks, she already had a healthy collection of those.

“We cannot stay here!”

She latched on to the initiative, yelling it as best as she could over the deafening din. Already, Brickham ticked an agreeing nod. She was heartsick about the tension that fed it. She was aware he had spent most of this evening under one form of stress or another, but this was next-level material. A strain that owned him. A ferocity that possessed him. A focus that showed him not a shred of mercy. If she could only take away that darkness from him…even for half a moment…

But it was a misplaced wish.

She knew it in the very next second, while watching him close his eyes and pull in a deep breath. He was not stuffing or ignoring those forces. He was drawing them in, making them a part of his persistence.

Creator on high, how he inspired her. She comprehended so much of it in full now. How he had survived a childhood on the streets. How he had dug deeper to succeed at his country’s top-secret missions. How he had gotten through everything tonight and was still so formidable. Nothing in his psyche was wasted. He used it all for resilience and survival.

That was what she would do too.

The affirmation—the vow—came not a second too soon. As she enforced its motivation in her mind, Brickham communicated through basic hand gestures. He told her they would be running across the main walkway, toward the tall tombs and crypts that were tucked beneath the blue lattice bridge that ran across this corner of the cemetery.

Jayd delivered a complying nod. The covered area was the best choice for finding a good hiding place, especially if the prefecture decided to call in helicopters for the manhunt.

They did not dawdle. With all the officers fixated on the cottage but unable to get through the locked gates at its side, the chaos was going to be the best cover they had. She was certain the gendarmes would discover their break-in point soon enough. Brickham was likely three thoughts ahead of her in that regard. But by the time that happened, she and Brickham would be out of their sights again.

They would have to keep moving, but she was no longer afraid of that. She was oddly calm, feeling in control. Being in the right surely had something to do with it, but there was more to it. Brickham knew what he was doing. His steps were silent and sure. His determination was decisive.

She trusted him in full. With every move she made in his wake. With every breath she took while doing so. With every beat of the leaping heart in her chest, the growing smile on her lips.

By the merciful Creator. They were really going to do this. They were going to be okay.

Until, in the flash between one moment and the next, they were not.

The alarms fell silent inside the cemetery offices. In the same second, every light in the building came on. Strident shouts crisscrossed the air. Jayd could decently translate most of them, but that was not necessarily a good thing.