Castle Investigations Box Set

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Only one.

  Of course there was only one bed, because how much worse could this assignment get? She decided not to voice that question aloud. They were both still alive, so that counted for something.

  The tacky bedspread was ratty and stained. The carpet was torn in several places, and only a single bulb shone in the ceiling light fixture. She walked back to the bathroom, where a sink stood with chipped porcelain, and a bathtub lined with mildew stains sat below a small window.

  Isabel spun around.

  "Is this the best Zach could do?" she asked.

  She wasn't stuck up and had stayed in all kinds of places. But this was Vegas. Surely there was something at least a step up from this.

  "No. There're plenty of other places. But here, we have two points of escape." Ethan pointed to the front door and the window above the bathtub.

  "That's if we don't die of syphilis first." She eyed the comforter on the bed dubiously.

  Ethan pulled back the comforter and pointed to the sheets. "These are clean, at least."

  "Remind me to pick up a blanket while we're shopping."

  "Now that we've seen the place, let's go get some supplies, shall we?"

  Isabel began following Ethan out to the car, but he turned back to the door, taking something out of his pocket. He leaned down to the door near the handle, put something on it, then turned back and got in the car.

  "What was that?"

  "I asked the manager for some scotch tape. That way, I'll be able to tell if anyone tried to break in."

  "Smart."

  "I've been trying to tell you that for years." Isabel smiled, grateful that their easy banter had returned. Albeit under duress, but still.

  The department store was only a couple of miles up the road, and they made the drive in silence. It had been a rough few days. Isabel didn't know when she'd ever been so tired.

  They parked the car, but Isabel's phone rang before they got out. She checked the screen. Sully.

  "Hey, brother."

  "Good Lord, Isabel. What the hell is going on out there?" Isabel put him on speaker.

  "Hey, Sully," Ethan said. Sully growled into the phone. It seemed that that was her brother's only form of communication these days. "Not sure what happened, man."

  "You thinking it's Bruno's men?" Sully asked.

  "Yeah. We met with Quita this morning. Must have been a ploy to get us out of the hotel long enough to set the bomb."

  "It could also have been Tobias," Isabel chimed in.

  "What do you mean?" Ethan asked, his eyebrows rising in question.

  "I mean that I ran into Tobias on the way out this morning. He wasn't very happy about being humiliated in his own hotel. Told me to watch my back."

  "Seriously, Isabel! You didn't think to tell me?" Ethan asked, leaning close to her, his nose inches from hers.

  "No. I didn't think he'd really do anything. And I knew you'd go back in there and bust his face in. His ego took a hit." She wasn't backing down from his "I am man, hear me roar" routine.

  "Yes, and that ego may have set a bomb to kill you because of it."

  "It doesn't fit his profile, though," she said matter-of-factly, leaning in just a little bit more. They were so close that their lips were almost touching.

  "Screw his profile."

  "Kids! You think you two could shut up a moment, so I can get a word in here?" Sully interrupted.

  They both closed their mouths, their chests heaving as they fought to calm their raging tempers—fueled, in part, by raging hormones.

  "I agree with Isabel. I don't think that Tobias would blow up his own hotel to get back at her. He's more likely to catch her in a dark alley somewhere and—well, you know."

  Isabel shivered at the thought.

  "The question is, how did you not see that it had been rigged, Brooks?" Sully asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

  "I did. Just not in time. There was a small scratch near the handle. They must have been rushed and gotten sloppy. But I was, um, distracted." Isabel flushed at the memory of what Ethan had been doing right before she'd opened that door. The delicious distraction that had had her running for cover. It was all too much—her feelings for Ethan, then almost getting killed—twice! "Isabel got to the door first. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. As soon as she touched the handle, it went off."

  "Thank God you two weren't hurt worse."

  "Speaking of being hurt, we need to get inside and get some medical supplies. Ethan's got some nasty burns on his back." Isabel couldn't believe that she'd forgotten about his injuries. Here they were talking and arguing like nothing had happened, and Ethan needed medical attention.

  "Ok, I'll call in the morning. Lie low tonight. Get some rest." Sully hung up, and they exited the car.

  In the store, Isabel got all the essentials—clothes, toiletries, and of course a blanket that didn't harbor sexually transmitted diseases. She met up with Ethan in the medical aisle as he was grabbing painkillers, bandages, and antibacterial ointment.

  When they got back to the hotel, the tape on the door was still intact. At least they'd caught a break there. Ethan insisted that Isabel take a shower first.

  "I’m not the one that's injured," she protested.

  "Doesn't matter. Ladies first."

  "Your damn Southern manners are going to get you killed, Ethan Brooks. Get in the damn shower!"

  "Not on your life."

  With a growl of frustration, Isabel gathered her stuff and stomped to the nasty bathroom. She pulled out the flip flops she'd bought, slipping them on before getting in the shower. No telling what she might catch just from standing on the floors.

  She probably broke a record with how quickly she washed. When she was done, she slipped on her pajamas, foregoing the bra and underwear for the time being. It was only about two in the afternoon, but she felt like a nap was in order.

  Ethan looked up in surprise. "That was fast," he said.

  "Just get in there."

  He strode by her, taking his own toiletries with him. She combed her hair and twisted it up onto the top of her head. Drying it would take too much effort right now. She'd pay for it later, when she tried to get it into some sort of order, but the bed was calling her name. Climbing onto it, she waited for Ethan to finish his shower.

  Isabel hadn't been herself for the last couple of days. Those kisses they'd shared had turned her upside down. Because they hadn't been playing a part. The kiss last night and the one this morning had both happened because Ethan had wanted to kiss her. If anything, it showed her even more clearly that they could not become involved. They'd almost been killed. Twice. She wasn't on her A-game, and neither was he. Ethan never missed things. He was always in control and always observant.

  She needed to talk to him. Tell him that they couldn't act on this attraction. She sank back into the pillows, grateful that they were at least of decent quality. Closing her eyes, she waited for the sound of the water being turned off.

  All of a sudden, someone was pulling a blanket over her, and her eyes sprang open. Ethan was hovering over her, his chest bare, water droplets on his eyelashes. His hair was wet and tousled. She loved his hair. It was longer than most men's, almost to the tops of his shoulders and slightly curly. It always seemed to look windblown, as if he'd just gotten off a motorcycle. Sexy as hell.

  "I didn't mean to wake you," he said, his face close to hers.

  "I was just resting my eyes."

  Ethan snorted. "Ok, sleepyhead. Go back to sleep. We'll get some dinner later on."

  "No, I need to treat your wounds first."

  "Izz, they're not that bad. It can wait."

  "Shut up, Ethan," she said, sitting up and getting the medical supplies they'd bought. "Sit." She pointed towards the bed, and she guessed that Ethan must be done arguing with her, because he sat on command. She was so tempted to say, "Good dog," but she held her tongue.

  Isabel sat on the bed behind him, taking in the already blistering flesh.
He was right—it could have been a lot worse, but she knew the burns had to hurt. How he'd walked around for the past couple of hours like this, she didn't know.

  She'd bought ointment that had a little Lidocaine in it, hoping it would help with the pain. "Here, take these," she said, handing him some ibuprofen.

  "I don't need—"

  "For the love of all that is holy, Ethan. Just take the damn medicine."

  He smiled, just one side of his mouth tilting up, and took the pills, swallowing them dry.

  "I meant with some water."

  Exasperated, Isabel opened the ointment and carefully spread it over his burns. His back was broad and muscled. As she worked the cream in, goose bumps erupted over his skin. He shivered, and she tried to hold back a smile. It was nice to know that he wasn't always in control of everything.

  Her fingers lightly brushed his skin, tracing the outlines of the marks as she worked. Then she gingerly put bandages over the worst ones to keep them from sticking to his shirt. She hadn't realized how fast she was breathing, or how near Ethan was. He turned, his eyes finding hers, then lowering to her mouth.

  Isabel was well aware that they were on a bed. In a hotel room. Alone. She wasn't sure she could resist him. Her defenses were lowered, her body too aware of his nearness. He leaned in close, his lips hovering over hers.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Isabel jumped, and Ethan sprang up off the bed, taking his gun off the nightstand as he walked to the door. He peered out through the security hole in the door.

  "Who is it?" he asked.

  "Zach sent me. I have supplies," a man's voice said.

  Ethan put the gun behind his back, not letting go of it entirely, and opened the door.

  The man held two boxes in his hands, and Ethan motioned him in. The man set the boxes on the table. "That one has the computer in it. The other one holds other necessary items."

  Ethan nodded. "Thanks."

  "Any time."

  The man left, and Ethan opened the boxes. One held a laptop, and Isabel knew it would be top-of-the-line and ready to go. The other held a safe-like briefcase. That would be their guns.

  "It's all here. Let's get some rest. We'll head out around seven. Sound good?"

  Isabel nodded and curled up on her side. She wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep with Ethan so close to her, but exhaustion took over, and she slept like the dead.

  Chapter 9

  Ethan woke with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world. He watched as she slept, her expression so peaceful. Isabel had been through so much in the last few days, and yet she hadn't complained or broken down. She’d just kept on going, as tough as nails but as sweet as pie.

  His desire to kiss her, touch her, be with her, grew stronger every moment he was with her, and his resolve to leave her the hell alone weakened. Her hands on him had felt like heaven earlier, and had Zach's guy not shown up when he did, he wasn't sure what would have happened. He did know that he was tired of fighting these feelings he had for her. She was special, and he thought that maybe they needed to give it a try. It would be worth it, if they found something special and permanent. And Sully would forgive them. He'd want her to be happy, right?

  But he had no idea what Isabel thought. He knew she felt something for him. She'd kissed him back willingly. But was she willing to take a chance on them?

  Isabel stretched in his arms, and he wondered what she would do when she woke up and found herself tangled up with him. He didn't have to wait long.

  She opened her eyes, then let out a little yeep as she scrambled farther up the bed and away from him.

  "What?" she asked, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

  "Good evening, darlin'."

  "What time is it?"

  "Six."

  "I need to get ready, then." Isabel hopped off the bed and scurried into the bathroom. Ethan chuckled at her response.

  Pulling on some jeans and a button-down shirt, then tying his hair back, he made a couple of calls while he waited for Isabel to get out of the bathroom. When she finally opened the door, her hair was piled high on her head in some sort of messy bun. Her legs were clad in form-fitting jeans, and she had on a tight black V-neck shirt. Black Converse-like sneakers were on her feet. It was a simple outfit—not meant to be flashy or sexy, but it was messing with his mind. Isabel looked sexy in anything, but the simplicity of the outfit made it all that much more alluring.

  "You look nice," he said, and he swore he saw a blush rise to her cheeks.

  "So do you. Ready?"

  "Yep."

  He passed by her and opened the door. Waiting in the parking lot was a black stretch limo.

  "What is that?"

  "A limo."

  "I know it's a limo. But what's it doing here?"

  "I rented it. Didn't think we should be driving all over town in a car with bullet holes," he said close to her ear. She shivered, and he smiled. He loved that she reacted that way to his nearness.

  "I'm not exactly dressed for a limo," she said, motioning to her outfit.

  "I think you look perfect," he said, placing a chaste kiss on her temple. That blush he loved so much touched her cheeks.

  "Shall we?" he asked, holding his arm out for her to go first.

  Forgetting her embarrassment, she practically skipped to the limo, turning around and shooting him a wide grin.

  It did funny things to that organ in the middle of his chest.

  When the driver opened the door for her, Isabel climbed into the back seat. She turned around, her stunning smile knocking the breath out of him. "This. Is. Awesome."

  He loved that about her. That simple things made her smile. Made her happy. He knew that she'd been in a limo before, but it didn't seem to get old for her.

  After Ethan climbed in behind her, the driver shut the door and lowered the window between them. "Where to, sir?"

  Ethan raised his eyebrows in question, turning to Isabel. "There any honky-tonk bars around here?"

  Ethan's burst of laughter shocked him. "Honky-tonk bars?"

  "You know, the ones like where you're from. Jukeboxes and country music and cheap beer."

  "Is that what you think I did growing up?"

  "Isn't it?"

  Ethan shrugged. "In part, I guess."

  The driver didn't seem in the least bit fazed. "Yes, ma'am. I know exactly the place."

  Isabel grinned even more widely. "Oh my gosh! We're going to a real honky-tonk bar."

  Ethan slid closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You going to dance with me?"

  "If you play your cards right."

  "Well, how about we start with this?" He leaned forward, opening the lid to a built-in cooler. Taking out a bottle of champagne, he lifted it up for her to see.

  "Champagne?" she squealed, clearly delighted.

  "Only the best."

  "Yes!"

  He took two glasses, pouring the bubbling liquid into them, and handed one to her. He lifted the glass and said, "To taking chances."

  She lifted one brow in puzzlement, but clinked her glass against his anyway.

  The bar was only a few miles up the road, so before they could finish even half the bottle, they were there.

  Ethan got out of the car, holding out a hand and motioning for Isabel to follow. When they walked into the bar, Ethan smiled to himself. It was just like a bar in Texas. Peanut shells on the floor. Jukebox playing old country songs. Just his kind of place. How she'd known that, he had no idea. They didn't have places like this in D.C., so it wasn't like they'd been to one together before.

  They took their places at the bar, and Ethan ordered them each a double shot of whiskey.

  "Whiskey?" Isabel crinkled up her nose.

  "If we're going to do this right, we gotta have whiskey."

  "Whiskey it is."

  The bartender placed the shots down, and Ethan picked his up. Isabel followed suit. He’d known she'd take the challenge. When he downed
the shot in one go, she was right behind him.

  Her face turned red, and she coughed, making a face as if someone had just given her something that had set her throat on fire and tasted terrible.

  "That's the worst stuff ever," she gasped.

  "Nah," he said, but it was pretty bad. He liked whiskey, but this stuff was one step above rubbing alcohol. He lifted his hand to the bartender. "Two more."

  "What?"

  Ethan gave her a challenging look.

  "Fine." She rolled her eyes at him.

  Laughing, he lifted his glass when the bartender returned with the shots. Again, she followed suit, and they downed the drinks.

  "That one wasn't as bad," she said.

  "It gets better as the night goes on."

  Looking around at their surroundings, Ethan saw that there was a makeshift dance floor. He stood, holding out his hand. "Want to dance?"

  "Absolutely."

  Ethan led Isabel across the dance floor. He taught her all the country dances he knew, twirling her around and dipping her low. Between dances, he ordered more shots of whiskey. Finally, they found a booth to sit down in and rest their feet, both of them flushed and tipsy.

  "Tell me something no one else knows," Isabel said, her hand resting on his arm as she leaned in close.

  "Something no one else knows?" He thought for a moment, not sure where he wanted the conversation to go. He settled on something he considered safe. "Ok, I always wanted a brother or sister."

  "That's right. I knew you were an only child. Tell me about your family," she said, leaning forward even more, as if hanging on his every word.

  "Not much to tell. Like you said, I was an only child. Dad was a rancher. Mom stayed at home, helping him on the ranch as much as she could. It was pretty lonely most of the time."

  He loved his parents, but they hadn't expected to be able to have children. Ethan was an unexpected blessing, as his mom called him. But really, he’d felt like an unexpected burden most of the time.

  That's why he'd loved the Marines. Instant brothers. He'd die for any of them. Do anything for any of them. Especially Sully.

  "Is that why you joined the Marines?" she asked, always so intuitive.