Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack
Pain throbbed in Jack’s head, cutting through the sound of a familiar voice saying his name, the feeling of weight on his shoulder.
“Jack.”
He couldn’t quite think straight enough to recognize the male voice.
His torso shifted and he was set gently on his back. Blinking one eye open, Jack peered through his lashes—maybe they were stuck together with sleep, come to think of it—and saw Noah leaning over him, concern written in his eyes, his jaw clenched.
Noah exhaled sharply. “I thought you were dead for a minute there.”
“Dead?” Jack’s voice came out as a rough rasp. Then he winced, his fingers traveling to his lashes. He tugged at the substance caking them.
Not sleep.
Dried blood.
Oh shit.
He tried to sit up, and Noah came to his aid. He glanced around the unfamiliar room, his eyes bleary as his memories of the night before returned.
Dinner with Ruby. Coming to Kit’s room in the night.
The microfilm.
His head gave a sharp turn toward the typewriter, but it was gone.
And he didn’t see the microfilm anywhere, either.
Dammit, dammit.
A whole slew of curses bubbled inside him as he peered toward the open curtains. Just after dawn, most likely.
How had Noah found him? “How the hell did you get here?” Jack asked with a wince, skimming his fingertips over the side of his temple. They found a gash there—where he’d been hit, and by someone who knew what they were doing.
“Alain Roche—mostly. He got me as far as Baghdad anyway. A friend of his spotted you in Café Shahbandar yesterday, and we flew in from Jerusalem right away. Then, to my surprise … who should I find at the airfield but Ned. Roche is still there with him.” Noah sat back on his heels.
“I went to the café, traced you to the hotel, and the rest was just some light detective work.”
Light detective work?
Jack ground his teeth.
If Noah had been able to find him so easily, then so could someone else.
Like Prescott.
Which could explain the missing microfilm. The attack.
It also might mean Ruby’s in danger.
He bent one knee and stood slowly, head pounding, and Noah held a hand out to steady him. “You may need to take it easy—”
“You don’t understand. There’s someone here with me—a woman that’s been helping me. Her name is—”
“Ruby Weber?” Noah’s gaze darkened, and he stepped closer. “Yes, I know. Roche’s contact mentioned her too. Why do you think I came right away, Jack? She’s a known con artist.”
“She’s not, though.” Jack blinked hard to clear his gaze. “I-I mean, she is. Her name is Ruby Weber. She’s a thief, but she’s got a good heart. She’s trying to save her family—help get them out of Germany.”
Noah frowned, his lips pursing as he searched Jack’s gaze.
“I don’t know about that. But Roche did find her brother, Theodore, in Cairo.
He was seen with someone there.” Noah released a slow breath.
“I don’t know how else to say it, Jack, but he was with Prescott Federline in Old Cairo.
And Ruby and her brother are known in the Cairo underground as the Weber twins. ”
Twins?
As the weight of Noah’s words settled into Jack’s mind, his stomach went sour, his throat constricting.
Seen with Prescott Federline?
“Are—are you saying they’re Blackwell?” Jack’s throat felt unrelentingly dry.
Noah’s chin jutted up. “What do you think?”
That was definitely a yes.
Blackwell.
Ruby?
Jack sucked in a breath through his teeth, and he allowed the pain from his head to get to him for a few moments.
“But … I hired her.” His fingers curled at his sides, his brain feeling strangely numb.
She hadn’t had the triskelion tattoo either—he’d seen every inch of her.
Unless Prescott would have known not to give her one.
Hired her, yes. But she’s the one who found me at Mena House Hotel. Hell, she may have even put herself in my path that day at Shepheard’s. He’d been sitting out on the terrace, after all—Ruby could have easily spotted him first, then stood where he’d be certain to see her.
Ruby.
The thought of her being Blackwell was like ice to his veins, and his entire body seemed to break out in a shiver of fury and disappointment.
God, no.
She’d played him like a violin. And if she’d been lying the whole time … sneaking around …
Jack’s hand went to his temple again. She might have been the one who’d attacked him last night and taken the microfilm.
“Goddamn,” Jack growled, stalking toward the door.
Noah followed him as Jack let himself out of Kit’s room and headed down the hallway. He found his way to Ruby’s door, growing more ill by the second.
How could he have been so blind? So trusting?
So stupid?
He knocked on the door. “Ruby?”
Only silence greeted him.
Jack knocked again, his foolish heart still refusing the reality that Noah had presented him with. He couldn’t have done this again, could he? Made such a careless mistake?
Been so inane?
How in the hell did he always end up here?
If Theo had been seen with Prescott … that was strong evidence against both Theo and Ruby.
He wanted to kick himself. She’d given him a heart-wrenching sob story about saving her family, and he’d fallen for it like the fool he was.
A pretty face and eyes glistening with tears would be the death of him someday.
“Jack?” Noah’s voice came softly from behind him.
Jack didn’t answer as he found the tool kit he had in his trousers. He’d left his own room key in the pocket of his jacket—in Ruby’s bedroom. So, either way, he needed to get into the room.
He picked the lock quickly, then stepped inside, hoping against hope that he’d find her where he’d left her.
But the bed was empty.
So was the rest of the room.
Had she been the one who’d clubbed him over the head and then taken off running?
The floor seemed to give out from under him, and Jack sank to his knees, his chest squeezing tight.
All his life, he’d been struggling.
From the moment his drunk bastard of a father had gambled their life into ruin and his bitch of a mother had left him and Alice like orphans—without a glance back.
And then … Prescott Federline had come in, like the villain he was, and had taken Alice. Split him from Kit.
Like a coward, he’d fled. He hadn’t fought back, just taken it. Crossed the goddamned Atlantic Ocean, thrown himself into the heat of the desert and the study of lives and civilizations that were as forgotten as he wanted to be.
And when he’d loved again, he’d been the fool who had fallen in love with the one woman who should have been off limits. The wife of his closest friend.
And, God, though he’d loved Ginger, that love when weighed next to the loyalty he owed Noah Benson was nothing.
So he’d wound up alone.
He’d made his peace with it—he thought.
Until Ruby.
Only to have Prescott come back and do this to him after all these years?
Jack’s hands curled into fists and he sank back onto his heels, exhaustion pouring through him. Then tears, hot and unmerciful, pricked his eyes as he covered his face. But they still didn’t come, a flood held back by walls he’d put around his heart so long ago.
But … why?
“God, why?” he growled through gritted teeth.
Noah sat beside him on the floorboards without ceremony, his boots creaking as he lowered himself down. He didn’t speak straightaway, just rested his elbows on his knees, the two of them breathing in the quiet. The faint ticking of the clock marked the silence between them.
Jack kept his gaze fixed on the empty bed, as if he stared long enough she might be there, after all.
But the impression of her—her laugh, her perfume, the ghost of her warmth in those sheets—only sharpened the ache in his chest. He felt hollowed out, the way ruins looked after a fire—nothing left standing but the jagged edges.
Prescott had taken enough from him already. And yet here he was again, stripped bare.
The weight of Noah’s shoulder against his own was the only solid thing in the room.
Jack didn’t look at him, but he felt the other man’s eyes.
Patient. Steady. And in the back of his mind, a truth surfaced.
Noah Benson was the only man alive who’d seen him at his lowest and never once turned away.
Not for blood, not for money, not for anything.
If that didn’t make them brothers, Jack didn’t know what did.
At last, Noah said, in that even, unhurried voice of his, “You’re not the first man to put his faith in the wrong person. And you won’t be the last.” He sighed. “The difference is, most men have to climb out of that hole on their own. You don’t.”
Jack’s throat worked. He wanted to say something reasonable, but the words caught behind the ache in his chest.
Noah went on, quieter now. “You remember Cairo, after you and Ginger came back for me when you found out I was still alive? I’d written myself off entirely.
You should have written me off too, if I’m honest. She loved you by then.
You’d become a family. And you—damn fool that you are—came charging back for me.
Told me I wasn’t finished yet. Stuck by me when I had nothing to give you in return.
You took care of the people I loved when I couldn’t and gave me my life back even when I didn’t deserve it anymore. That’s not something I’ll ever forget.”
Jack closed his eyes.
They never talked about it like this. That time in their life when the things and the woman they wanted had been the same—and only one of them could have it. Could have her.
“She loved you more.” Jack’s voice scraped through his throat at last. “She was always yours first. And you deserved your family back. You always did. You fought like hell for them.”
“Maybe. But she loved you too. She still does. I don’t torture myself by thinking about it, but, believe me, I’m aware of what you gave up for me. And it’s why I’m here, Jack. It’s why when you showed up in Penmore weeks ago, I knew I’d go with you before you ever asked. You’re my brother.”
Noah raked his hands through his hair and released a slow puff of air through his lips. “I’m not letting you fall to pieces here. Not over Prescott, and not over a woman, however fine she might be. I don’t care how far gone you think you are—you’re not alone in this.”
A long breath eased out of Jack, ragged at the edges. He’d been holding himself tight since the moment he woke with blood in his eyes, but something in him loosened under those words.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, Benson … what did I do to deserve you?”
Noah gave a small huff of amusement. “Saved my life. More than once. And bought me a pint or two over the years.” His tone shifted, brisker now, practical.
“Now, let me see to that gash before you keel over. I’d rather not carry you out of here.
It’s hell on the back. But we have to hurry.
Ned is waiting for us at the airfield, and we need to hurry to Jerusalem. ”
The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. Not quite. But close enough to feel like the first step back from the edge.
He drew a shaky breath and stood, then walked over to the chair where he’d left his dinner jacket the night before. Searching in the pocket for his room key, his fingers brushed against the metal—and something else.
A scrap of paper.
He frowned and pulled it out. The paper was folded … and stabbed through with the keys Ruby had stolen from the telegraph office the day before.
He unfolded the paper.
Wish you’d stayed—R
The words punched through him, equal parts knife and lifeline. She’d gone on purpose, then. Walked away without looking back. But why leave the keys? A taunt? A farewell? Or the barest thread of trust she thought he might follow?
He turned the note over in his fingers as if it might tell him which. It didn’t.
Jack crushed the paper in his fist. The last thing he wanted to do was to waste time figuring out which part of her had been playing him and which—if any—had been real. Whatever fragile trust had been built between them was gone now anyway.
For good.
But he wasn’t about to leave this stone unturned. Not after everything he’d gone through to get here—and losing the microfilm.
Jack turned toward Noah, squinting. “My head can wait. There’s something we need to do first.” He dangled the keys. “How do you feel about breaking and entering this morning?”