Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(58)

“At the time I assumed if there were a landing strip, there’d be an access road. I never imagined it would be gated.”

Jacob scooted against the tree. When I looked up, he was staring at me. In his eyes I saw something I didn’t recall having seen before.

“Why are you looking at me funny?” I asked.

He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’m not looking at you funny. I’m looking at you with utter amazement. You are a kick-ass investigative journalist. I can’t believe they assigned me—an FBI agent—a wife with so much knowledge on The Light.”

I grinned. “I’m pretty sure they don’t know about you.”

He shook his head. “No. If they did, that would’ve been me in the front of the temple.”

I closed my eyes. “Please don’t say that. Don’t even joke about that.” A tear ran down my cheek, and Jacob gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’m not joking. We’re getting out. I just need a burner phone so I don’t alert The Light by using my phone. It’s been more than twenty-four hours. They should have enough manpower in Anchorage very soon.”

“What happened to the phone you had in Fairbanks?”

“I had to destroy it. I couldn’t risk having it on me when we went back. I wasn’t sure we’d get away with what we did, getting you back into the Northern Light.” With our hands still united, he laid his head against the tree and sighed.

“What now?” I asked.

“I remembered something else. Before service, Father Gabriel asked me about Fairbanks. Before I went there, I called Brother Daniel and told him that Whitefish was low on supplies so I was going to Fairbanks. There would be record of me being there, and I needed to justify it.”

“What did Father Gabriel ask?”

“Just how the weather was in Fairbanks this time of year.”

My pulse increased. “That’s weird. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, but then he asked me for an envelope someone gave me after my delivery. For the life of me, I don’t remember what I did with it.”

I didn’t ask about the envelope. If I did, I knew Jacob would tell me—he’d promised. I also knew there was still so much about The Light I didn’t know, but at this moment my curiosity was waning. I knew too much. That’s why I was here, with my make-believe husband, sitting on the cool ground in the shadows of tall trees, within the compound of a man I believed to be mad, one who’d authorized the killing of two people in front of more than a hundred witnesses.

When I turned toward my make-believe husband, his eyes were closed, and his breathing steady.

How much sleep had he gotten in the past seventy-two hours?

It was hard to comprehend that I’d only left the Northern Light on Friday morning, and now it was Sunday. So much had happened.

Releasing his hand, I gently traced his jaw with my knuckles and enjoyed the abrasion of the stubble against my skin. My cheeks rose as I remembered how I’d traced his face before the bandages were removed from my eyes. When I’d done that, I’d been trying to see him, to envision the man in my bed. He wasn’t the man I’d envisioned.

Now I knew he was so much more.

As I began to stand, Jacob reached for my hand and pulled me back.

“No,” he said, as I landed on his lap.

“I thought you were asleep. I was going to look around.” Not that I could be looking around now, not with the vise grip he had on me.

“You’re not allowed out of my sight.”

“Allowed?” I asked with more than a bit of rebellion.

“We’re still in The Light, so yes, allowed.”

I shook my head and kissed his cheek. “You were sleeping. I wasn’t in your sight.”

The light brown staring intently back at me sparkled with the flickers of sunlight raining through the leaves.

“Yes, you were. You’re always there.” He kissed my nose. “I even see you in my dreams.”

Framing his face, I puckered my lips. Our kiss was soft and understanding. Loosening his embrace, Jacob reached for the back of my neck and pulled me closer. As the fervency of our connection grew, our kiss and need deepened. When his tongue teased my lips, I willingly parted them, releasing a moan as our tongues danced.

When Jacob’s hand sought the hem of my shirt, I remembered the boundary I’d placed, but instead of reminding him, I pulled my blouse from the confines of my skirt. His touch was warm as he unfastened the clasp of my bra and released my breasts. Sighing, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations as the scarred tips of his fingers heightened my desire, caressing and taunting my beaded nipples. I pushed my chest toward him, wanting more of what he could do to my sensitive skin. Bowing his head, he delivered, sucking and nipping and sending pulsations elsewhere.

“Oh, Jacob,” I purred, weaving my fingers through his dark wavy hair.

The ground where we sat was hard and dry, hardly the place to make love. It was also private and isolated. Moving from his lap, I lifted my shirt over my head and laid it on the ground. Discarding my bra, I reached for Jacob’s hand and tugged him over me as I lay back with my head on my shirt.

“You said . . . ,” he reminded me.

“Please, I want you.”

Jacob’s eyes never left mine as he bunched my skirt to my waist and removed my panties and shoes. “I,” he said between kisses, “will always want you.”