“He’s what, Tristan?”
The corner of his lips lift at my challenge. The tiny movement chips off a little of my anxiety.
“Well, he’s not me.”
He closes the small space between us and twines his fingers through my hair. My breath catches when I can feel his heat and smell the soap on his skin. I’m not sure he’ll ever stop affecting me this way.
“He won’t kill for you,” he says, his voice raspy and low. “He won’t die for you. And he’ll always love himself more than he loves you. He’ll never know how to be anything else.”
I stare into his eyes, letting his words wash over me. His hatred for Kolt is never in short supply, but for once, I don’t think that’s what this is about.
I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. I’ll always love you more than I love myself. I’ll never know how to be anything else.
The underlying meaning sinks in deeper, like truth in my bones. I believe it so fully that I struggle to take in my next breath. If he can love me this much without our past…
I lean into his gentle touch. “I know.”
“Then let’s find a way to do this without giving me a heart attack.”
I absently fiddle with the collar on his jacket. “What if you could come with somehow? I’m not sure if Kolt will be as receptive if he knows you’re there, but if you were close… You could be close enough to get in if there was trouble.”
His expression turns thoughtful. He pulls away, and we begin walking back toward the car. “You really think he’s going to let you just come in and poke around? No reservations?”
I shrug. “It’s possible. Can’t hurt to ask.”
I don’t voice the possibility that the more hope I give Kolt about our impossible relationship, the more likely he may be to help me. Of course, Tristan’s not stupid. He knows this too, but I worry saying it aloud will dash the possibility of moving forward my way.
“Fine. Ask.” His tone is oddly resigned.
I hesitate, making certain I heard him right. “And if he says yes?”
“If he says yes, we’ll make a plan together.” Our gazes meet briefly, knowingly.
“He won’t want you there,” I hedge.
“I don’t really care what he wants. I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tristan
Fried seafood and the sounds of kids laughing down near Rick’s Fish House float through the air as the docks come into view.
Isabel swings our linked hands absently. “It’s so pretty down here at sunset. I can’t wait for summer.”
I don’t voice my disagreement out loud. If I could make time stand still, I might. Summer means changes. I like this rhythm we’ve fallen into and would do almost anything to preserve it for as long as possible.
I take her down to this seafood shack on the river every time I scrounge up enough extra cash. Things are getting more serious. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Isabel’s stitched herself into my life. Hell, she’s singlehandedly holding it together since my mom died. I’m starting to wonder what forever could look like. Forever with someone like Isabel comes with different pressures. She deserves something stable. Right now I’m just pretending to have it together. Maybe one day I really will.
“Come on. Let’s feed the fish first,” she says with an infectious kind of enthusiasm.
I grin and let her lead us to the rickety fish-food dispenser. I put a few quarters in it, and we fill our hands with little pellets. The kids at the end of the dock come barreling toward us, screaming and laughing as they chase each other.
“Whoa!” I jump back to let the little tornadoes speed by.
Isabel laughs and starts walking to the end where they just were. We sit on the edge. Our feet dangle just above the water, and our faces wave in the reflection. She tosses a pellet a few feet out and we wait. Seconds later, a fish claims it at the surface and disappears again in the murky depths.
“Do you think you’ll ever want kids?” She tosses another out casually.
I pretend to focus on what the fish are doing when I’m really scrambling for a decent answer. “I haven’t thought a lot about it. What about you?”
She’s quiet for a while. “I think I do.”
I chuckle. “You hesitated.”
She smiles. “I don’t know. I guess I worry about what kind of mom I would be.”
Isabel is the most kind, giving, and thoughtful person I’ve ever known. There are no doubts in my mind. “I think you’d be a really good mom.”
“Thanks.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I wonder if she’s thinking about her sister, whose death seemed to cast a dark cloud over her own childhood in so many ways. I figure most of the upper-middle-class kids in Alexandria have hyper parents like hers, but lately I’m starting to think it’s worse for Isabel. I’ve never known anyone to be so damn good and stifled at the same time.
“Do you think things would have been a lot different for you if Mariana hadn’t gotten sick?”
She tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. “Having a parent who’s terrified every time you leave the house isn’t exactly normal.”
I toss another pellet out. “You know better than to put your kids through that.”
The band at Rick’s starts warming up, and the sky gets darker. We can barely see the fish anymore, but I can tell she’s not in a rush to leave. For Isabel’s sake, I force myself to dig deeper. If she’s being honest and baring her feelings and vulnerabilities, I owe it to her to do the same. As her friend and her lover… As the man who wants to earn a lifetime of her love.
I sprinkle the last of my pellets into the water and think about how to start. “My parents met when my mom was in nursing school.”
She gazes up at me, curiosity plain in her eyes. I’ve never talked about my dad, always sidestepped the subject, and was grateful when she never pressed me.
“As soon as she finished, he moved out west. She never told him she was pregnant. She said she knew it would be better if it was just us. I wish I could blame him for being a deadbeat, you know? But I can’t blame my mom for making the call she did either. It sucks growing up with half a family, but it is what it is. I hope I’d make the right choice if it were me.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “I think you would.”
Something warms inside me. It starts in my stomach and reaches all the way to the tips of my fingers. It’s more than a fleeting vision of what it might be like to have a family with her. It’s that she thinks I could be capable of getting it right, with her or anyone. No one’s ever had that kind of faith in me. Not since Mom left. Even then, she was so busy making ends meet, it’s not like we had time to talk much about what my life might look like. What kind of man I might become.
The band gets going for real, so we head over. We eat and laugh. The Christmas lights strung around the deck make Isabel’s skin glow. I touch her every chance I can, addicted to the contact and the reciprocation of affection that I only get from her.
For a long moment, all I can do is stare at her in awe and disbelief. I can’t believe she’s real. I can’t believe she’s mine. Right now she really is. God, maybe she could be forever.
Her eyes twinkle when she catches me staring. “What?”
That warm feeling hits me again. Warmth and energy. Hope. Isabel.
“Do you think you could ever marry someone like me?”
Her smile softens, but her eyes don’t change. They’re beautiful and steady. I should be terrified. I should make a joke so she won’t think I’m dead serious. But all I can do is wait for her to answer me.
Her lips curl up again. “Yeah. I really think I could.”
My eyes flash open. I take a few quick breaths, swallow hard, and blink rapidly into consciousness. Eager to jar myself out of the dream, I check the clock on the table. We slept in. Well, I did. Isabel’s side of the bed is empty, which is almost a relief. Right now I’m not me. At least I’m not
the Tristan she’s used to waking up to. Until the dream recedes, I’m eighteen and lovesick. Deeply, hopelessly in love.
Yeah, that’s not you at all, Casanova.
I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes with a groan because my wheels are already spinning too fast.
I haven’t had a flashback in a while. The drugs Townsend gave me are long out of my system. This wasn’t one of my usual dreams either. This vision was new. Rich and vivid and already threatening to inspire an emotional excavation I’m nowhere ready for. I don’t have to wonder if it was real. I know it was. My sparse memories of Isabel have taken on a texture that make them different from the twisted fiction in my nightmares.
Maybe seeing Mushenko yesterday triggered it. Some subconscious need to know more, to hold on to memories Isabel would want me to have—memories like spring nights on the river in Baltimore, dreaming about what kind of life we could have together one day.
If we weren’t so committed to this new path, going to war with the Company and anyone else behind this sordid plan, I think I’d find a way to take her away from it all. Maybe they’d let us disappear and we could find some remote patch of earth to call our own. We could have a life. Maybe not what she envisioned all those years ago, but something a lot better than this.
I’m sending a lamb into the lion’s den. Again.
Mere hours from Isabel’s request, Kolt arranged for her to visit the Boswell family’s sprawling estate in Manchester-by-the-Sea, a small but affluent town. With my support, she took up the invitation and put the plan in motion.
I must be deranged. But it’s worked before. I’ve taken advantage of her allure to bait the enemy. I’ve trusted in her natural abilities. I’ve let her go, begrudgingly…willingly. More often unwillingly. And I swear every time has felt like a death-defying leap into the dark and terrifying unknown. I can’t lose her. But if the risk gets us closer to keeping her safe forever, I’m willing to leap once more.
Of course I wouldn’t have minded breaking in, guns blazing, but that isn’t the plan this time. Once more, I’ll have to trust Isabel to hold her own. I’m not about to let Kolt alone with her without eyes or ears on the situation, though.
“You’ll be able to hear everything with this?”
Isabel’s voice is soft and tentative, solidifying my already ramped-up commitment to keep her safe going into this.
I reach across the car console and take the tiny audio transmitter she’s holding. I part her jacket, slip my fingers under the edge of her shirt, and clip the device low on her bra strap. I make a silent vow that if Kolt gets anywhere close to the wire, we’ll have bigger problems than whether or not I can hear them. I clench my teeth and try to force those scenarios out of my head for the time being. He behaved last time. He better fucking behave this time.
“If the house is empty like he says it will be, there shouldn’t be any background noise. The signal should be clear. And if it’s not, I won’t be far away.”
Isabel lets out a nervous exhale. “It’ll be fine.”
I withdraw the Glock from the inside of my jacket and hand it to her. “You remember how to use this?”
She reaches for it, slowly and carefully. I don’t miss her faint grimace once it’s in her hands.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go over it one more time.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’ve got it. I mean, hopefully I don’t need to use it, but I can.”
“All right. Good.”
We don’t talk about how she couldn’t pull the trigger on Boswell the night he beat the hell out of her. And we don’t talk about the tiny blades she used to slice through Bones, ending his menacing life. We don’t say any of it, but I can tell it’s filling up her thoughts.
“Keep it casual. You know how to work him to get what you need. You did fine last time.”
She blinks up at me and her lips part. “You think so?”
I force a tight smile. She defied me and put herself in unnecessary danger to meet with Kolt. I don’t exactly want to encourage more of that kind of behavior, but all things considered, she handled him well.
“You gave him just enough hope to tell you everything he did. But not so much that he felt like he could put his hands on you. At least from where I was standing, it looked like a pretty good play.”
She smiles a little. “Thanks.”
“Just stick to the plan. Find out what else he knows. Then try to get access to Kristopher’s office. Take photos of anything that looks like it can be helpful. Then get the hell out of there.”
“Easy enough,” she says with a lightness that feels forced but hopeful.
I scan the landscape from our vantage point down the long, winding driveway. The house is lit up like a work of art, but there hasn’t been any noticeable movement since we arrived. “You’re sure the place is empty?”
“Kolt said his mother was out of town for work.”
“Where?”
“Paris.”
I nod. “What about Kristopher?”
She hesitates. When our gazes meet again, I catch a hint of worry there.
“He didn’t say. He just said we’d have the place to ourselves.”
The lack of detail gives me pause. I don’t expect Kolt wants to share his time with Isabel with family members who want her dead. But the fact remains that they do want her dead, and she’s about to show up on the family doorstep.
“Gut check. Do you still feel good about this?”
She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m good.”
The digital clock on the dash reads eight o’clock. Time’s up. I wrap the earpiece around my ear and turn it up until I can hear faint static.
“Give me a head start. I’ll be close. If you need me to come to you, just give me a signal. Don’t hesitate.”
“Got it.”
Her voice echoes in my ear, loud and clear. With that, I step out of the car and head up the drive. Unlike Isabel, I’m not going to be knocking on the front door, so I veer off the path and creep along the periphery, keeping to the shadows of the woodlands that line the edge of the property. I hurry past the carriage house, my steps nearly silent as I cross the cobblestone drive. Ocean waves crash in the distance.
I press the earpiece tighter against my ear to make sure I can still hear Isabel. Just the steady sound of her breathing. She’s walking.
I pause when I get to a side door. A flood light switches on, illuminating the whole area and me. I flatten against the side of the house and wait. Kolt won’t be checking the cameras that I’m certain cover every entrance.
“Ringing the doorbell,” she says calmly.
Quickly I insert a pick in the lock, working it back and forth until it finally releases. A second later, I can hear the security system disarming beep on the other side of the door. I’m in.
As I step inside the dark entryway, a crystal-clear layout of the house projects onto my brain. When we were killing time waiting for the meetup, I was able to track down city records with the blueprints from the original construction. The bad news is there are plenty of places to get lost in the thirteen thousand square feet of oceanside mansion. The good news is I’ve got the whole map memorized.
Just as I start to speculate where Kolt will take her first, I realize Isabel isn’t saying anything. Did I lose her? I push the earpiece tighter into my ear.
My stomach knots with unease.
She sucks in a sharp breath.
“Hi,” she finally says. A long pause. “I… I’m here to see Kolt.”
Shit.
I whip out my gun and am already halfway out the door when the sound of Kolt’s rushed words fill my ear.
“Eliza, thanks. I’ve got it. You heading home now?”
“Yes, sir. Unless you need me for anything else.”
“No, we’re good. Have a good night.” A long pause and the sound of a door shutting. “Sorry about that. Eliza helps around the house. She was supposed to leave earlier, but something came up.”<
br />
“It’s okay. Just startled me a little.”
The relief in Isabel’s voice works its way through me. If I were a praying man, I might send up a few words of thanks right now. Instead, I slip back inside, and the door clasps shut just as the system arms again with a faint beep. No one else gets in or out until this is over.
I make my way slowly and silently through the hallways that will bring me closer to the center of the house. Then Kolt’s voice is in my ear again, louder this time.
“Isabel…”
He’s too close to her. I don’t have eyes on her yet, but somehow I just know it.
Then the abrasive sound of clothing brushing roughly against the mic. Movement. Isabel’s voice, fast and muffled, but I swear I can make out the words.
“Kolt. No.”
ISABEL
I was already on edge before the housekeeper answered the door. I’m not ready for Kolt’s arms around me. His desperate embrace. His breath in my hair. His hands grasping me tighter to him. I keep my arms wrapped around my torso, terrified he’ll feel the gun that’s tucked into my jacket. My panic climbs, but I try hard to tamp it down.
My brain convinces my body to relax and pretend for Kolt the way I intended to tonight. He seems to pick up on it, pressing his nose against my neck and inhaling.
“I’ve wanted to hold you this way for so long. So long. Jesus, Isabel, do you have any idea how agonizing this has been?”
“I missed you too,” I lie, even though there was a time long ago when I did miss him. I missed his easy friendship and the simpler lives we had. That was before I knew the truth.
I count the seconds we stay this way, wondering how much more I can stand. He was always a gentleman. Too eager at times, sure. But he never crossed the line. He never made me feel threatened. But things are different now. Maybe he’s different too. All I know is I don’t want his hands on me a minute more.
Finally he pulls away, gradually, one agonizing inch at a time until I can finally breathe again. I worry he can read the unease.
The Red Ledger: 7 Page 7
