Up ahead, the church consumes the corner of the block. The street is quiet except for the sound of a barge chugging down the river nearby.
I halt in front of the steps and consider a dozen reasons not to go inside. I’m tired and grumpy. Sweaty. My legs might not even carry me up the steps. More, I don’t want to risk seeing the kind reverend, even though he offered his sanctuary as an extended home. I’m seeking peace, not friendship. Reassurance in my heart, a voiceless knowing that all will be well.
I lumber up the steps and hesitate just outside the entrance. The doors are closed, but they’re really open. Lost souls are always welcome. I rest my hand on the tall wooden door and then slide it down to the thick metal handle.
I listen. All I hear is silence and the call to find some peace inside.
Then the hurried shuffle of footsteps behind me. Then my name.
TRISTAN
“Isabel?”
It’s her. It has to be her.
The woman ahead of me turns abruptly, removing all doubt.
“It’s you.” The confirmation is a mix of shock and awe as I rake her in, cataloging all the ways she’s changed since I last saw her.
Her hair, much shorter and now blond, is dramatically different.
She’s flushed, and I’m pretty sure I know why. I first spotted her coming out of the fitness center moments ago, bickering with a forty-something meathead before I could intervene.
I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight. Now here she is, taking up the whole view.
Her eyes are the same greenish-brown almonds. Dark lashes set against her perfect skin. The flash of fear in her eyes quickly morphs into something else the minute she recognizes me. Something much more powerful than relief. I recognize it, because it’s pulling through me like a riptide.
On the outside, I’m frozen in place, worried about everything that’s going on in her head. Feeling like I can’t pick up where we left off, my hands in her hair, my mouth on hers.
“You came,” she whispers.
“Of course.” I never gave myself any other choice.
Her hand stills on the door like she’s about to go inside the church. Instead, she lets go and comes closer, touching my chest. The contact resonates throughout my body.
I grasp her hand, molding her palm against my heart.
She accepts my embrace, circling her arm around my middle, resting her head against me as I hold her to me.
“I missed you,” she whispers. “So much.”
I close my eyes as a barrage of questions burn through me. Why did you leave me? Who are you with? Then the demands. Disappear with me. Trust me.
I guide her chin up, ready to start my interrogation. She exhales a shaky breath and brushes some wayward hairs from her face. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”
“As if I care.”
Her skin aglow with sweat only makes me want to kiss it, lick it, and take in as much essence as her body will offer—the magic potion that kindles the faintest memories of the intimacy we once shared. Probably the best memories I had before they were all stolen away.
I brush my fingers across her cheek. My muscles grow taut with effort not to haul her against me again like I’m some kind of feral beast. I should have more control over my impulses, but no matter how often I tell this to myself, I’m no less compelled to touch her.
Heavy silence stretches between us. Still, she doesn’t speak. Doesn’t let on to what brought her here or why she ran from me.
“I got your note,” I finally say.
She offers a short nod before stepping out of our embrace completely. She takes a seat on the steps, closing her eyes and arrowing her fingers through her new hair.
I follow her down. “I like the new look.”
She smiles weakly. “Thanks. I’m getting used to it. I still don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”
“I almost didn’t.” I guide one of her hands in mine. “Why did you leave?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “When my mom came to the hotel, we talked.”
“About Mariana.”
She looks up, her features pinched. “How do you know?”
“I reached out to Lucia after you disappeared. She told me about your grandfather and your sister. And Kolt.”
She stills. “Kolt?”
One look and I realize she has no idea. Of all the things Lucia decided to share, she didn’t bother sticking a fork in the last little pockets of Isabel’s affection for a man who may very well have been sent to Rio to kill her.
I shake my head with a tense laugh. “If what your mother says is true, then your friend Kolt’s family is behind Mariana’s death.”
She pales and stares straight ahead. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I know what you’re thinking. Kolt wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Because if she’s not, I’m going to kill him. I’ll do it for free and take immense pleasure in it.
“I’m not that naïve, Tristan. We knew each other for months. I’d have sensed if he were that disingenuous.”
“You couldn’t manage to fall in love with him all that time. Maybe that’s why.”
She breaks her thoughtful composure with a burst of laughter.
“What?”
“If anyone could fall into bed with someone who wanted her dead, I guess it’d be me.”
An unpleasant feeling curls through me with her meaning. I don’t like being lumped into that group.
“Whoever in his family paid for the hit may think you’re dead, but they may not. Especially if Kolt’s involved. Plus the Company knows we’re on the run. Whether they choose to share that with their client and claim it’s a case closed, we can’t be sure. Faking your death may have bought us a little time or none at all.”
“You saw the news, I guess.”
I nod. “I’ll admit your mother’s reach caught me by surprise.”
“You’re not the only one. She’s kept so much from me for so long. If it weren’t for the extreme circumstances we’re dealing with, I’d have taken more time to hold it against her.”
True enough, we don’t have a lot of time for grudges—at least not with people who are on our side of the battle line.
“Why did she send you here?”
“I’m staying with a friend of hers. Martine. I guess they’ve known each other a while. I hadn’t met her before, but she seems like she really wants to help.”
I glide my fingers back and forth through hers, relishing the physical connection, not wanting it to end.
“I rented a place not far from here. You can stay with me.”
A knot forms in my stomach when she’s quiet for too long. Three days have passed since she disappeared, and I’ve come too far to risk losing her again.
“If you want me to leave you alone, you’re going to have to try harder,” I mutter in a low tone.
She tightens her hand around mine. “You didn’t ask for me to come back into your life.”
I still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I wanted you to find me, Tristan. You have no idea how much. That’s why I left the note. But if me dying on paper meant I could live without you protecting me, then it solved a problem for you too. You wouldn’t need to worry about me anymore.”
I hook her knees and spin her toward me so we’re facing each other. “This was your way of letting me off the hook?”
She lifts her shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe. People are trying to kill you because of me. It’s not like we always see eye to eye, either. Wouldn’t your life be easier without me in it?”
“Isabel. Just…” I work my jaw, needing her to stop painting this picture of us because it’s all wrong. “Stop it, all right? I care about you. Is it not obvious?”
She lifts her gaze to mine, trapping her lower lip between her teeth. Lucia’s challenge comes back to me.
“A declaration of love? Is th
at what you want from me?”
“No. I’m not asking for that,” she answers softly, her cheeks turning pink as if the mere suggestion embarrasses her.
“You make me feel a lot of things.” I curve my hand around her nape, swiping along her silken cheek as I go. “Fear’s not common for me, but with you it’s real. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you and have to live the rest of my life knowing that I failed you.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t want you to carry that burden.”
I pinch my brows together. “You think that’s it? That I’ve got some kind of bodyguard complex that’s overridden everything else all of a sudden? I spent three years waking up in the morning and checking my messages to find out who I had to kill next. It took something pretty intense for me to figure out what I was missing. You, Isabel.”
She chews her lip harder, her eyes gleaming.
“I don’t know how to feel things like normal people do, but I know I miss you when we’re apart. I’m jealous when someone wants any part of you that I’ve already decided I can’t share. When you smile, I’m ready to move mountains to see you happy. This is all new, and it scares the hell out of me.” I struggle to form the next words. “I don’t just feel these things because of you. I feel them through you, Isabel. When you hurt, I fucking bleed. When you love, you show me how. That’s the only way I know how to explain it. I can’t do any of that when you’re not with me.”
Her breaths come faster. Her eyes are glassy. And it resonates through me too, a strange cocktail of emotion. Vulnerability and frustration and passion so strong it makes me want to draw her to me, kiss her hard, and never let go.
I guide her closer and lower my mouth to hers, because I don’t know what more I can say…
The sounds of shoes scuffing up the steps stops me the second before we touch. We both turn toward the slight woman with a tail of long red hair climbing the steps.
“Hey, Isabel, you okay?”
When I let my hand slip from Isabel, she rises abruptly.
“I’m fine.”
I follow her up and take a better look at the girl. She’s dressed in a tight tank top and running shorts that reveal her pale, toned legs. She’s young but has an air of fearlessness about her that makes me think she’s had to have her own back more than a few times.
“This is Skye. She’s staying at Martine’s too,” Isabel finally says.
I force a polite smile. “I’m Tristan.”
Skye looks me over, her eyes sharp and assessing before softening when they land on Isabel. “We should head back.”
Isabel nods. “Sure. I’ll be right behind you.”
Skye doesn’t make any moves to leave, though. It’s obvious she thinks I pose a threat. My instinct is to be blunt and tell the girl to carry on her way. This is my territory. None of her damn business. But I sense Isabel may not want to make waves with her new housemates—or host, for that matter.
I turn my body toward her. “Maybe we can meet up later.” By maybe, I mean definitely. And by later, I mean as soon as possible. But I’m using soft language for the sake of Skye. “I’d like to talk to you about a few things.”
“Okay.” Her smile is genuine this time, and the relief almost knocks me down.
“Can you do me a favor and turn on your phone?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh…sure.”
Another wave of relief hits with the reassurance that I’ll be able to track her down more easily. One of these days I’ll come clean about it, but for now, I can’t risk her slipping off my radar again.
I can barely bring myself to let her leave me now. I resist the almost searing urge to kiss her despite this watchdog girl invading our personal space. Instead I give her hand a little squeeze and watch her walk down to the street with Skye.
Wherever she’s staying is within walking distance, but I follow well behind them until I see her turn down another street, then another, determined to find out where she’s calling home these days.
After a few blocks and a short walk down the streetcar route, they stop at the gate of an old antebellum mansion. The kind that is so impressive in its style and grandeur that it makes a person wonder what kind of important person lives there. This one is no different.
CHAPTER FOUR
Isabel
Thankfully Skye didn’t question me too hard about Tristan on the walk back to the house. Trying to explain that we were once in a relationship and he followed me here after I disappeared wouldn’t sound great to someone like her who sees most men as predators. Tristan’s not a predator. At least not to me. He is more committed than I’d given him credit for, though.
Just you and me…
After I left DC, I agonized over the small vow we made. I questioned what it really meant to him and if the words were more to keep me from running off or downward spiraling during one of the blackest moments of my life. The more I questioned it, the more I convinced myself that Tristan’s feelings for me can’t possibly be anything close to what I feel for him. After all, I have the benefit of years of missing him. And these memories, so deeply ingrained in me, evade him.
But if what he said on the church steps is true…
For being ill-equipped emotionally, he couldn’t have expressed himself much better. I wasn’t expecting him to tell me he loved me. Obviously I love him. I’ve hardly made that a secret, even as the meaning behind the sentiment evolves as I come to know the new Tristan better.
But what he shared means so much more.
Still reeling from the weight of it all, I shower, dress, and power up the phone Tristan gave me. Knowing Tristan would likely track me through it, my mother gave me another one before I left DC, and that’s the one I kept on during the drive in case of an emergency. The subtle distress in his expression when he asked me to turn on my phone removed all doubt. He definitely tried to track me.
I don’t plan on leaving Martine’s yet, but I can give him some reassurance that I’m here, safe.
The phone dings when two old messages from Tristan load.
Tell me you’re okay.
Then…
I’ll see you soon.
I smile a little at the determined tone I can hear behind his words. Doubting that he’d find his way to me seems foolish now. Maybe selfish, too, when I consider my own unsteadiness and how being here, away, was intended to cure that. To what end? Only to find myself back in his arms, the warm embrace of his protection and affection?
I’m still shaky from the morning’s session at Noam’s, and my body is demanding food. I go downstairs, pick up an apple from the countertop bowl, and take a loud bite.
“There you are.” Skye enters the room with a spring in her step.
“I’m starving,” I muffle as I look through the pantry cabinet.
She opens the refrigerator and pulls out a small baking dish covered in foil. “Noam’s classes will do that. You want some jambalaya?” Under the foil is more of the delicious rice dish I sampled last night.
“Oh yeah.”
She warms up two dishes of jambalaya, and we take them to the dining room table.
“You want to go out tonight? See the town a little?”
I stall and take a big bite of food because the possibility of seeing Tristan later is heavy in my thoughts. I miss him more than I’ll admit to anyone. I crave more of his touches, more of his heart-wrenching honesty.
“I’ll probably stay in. But thanks.”
She pins me with a stare as her mouth works her food. “You have plans?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’ve been different since I saw you with that guy. I feel like you don’t want me to know why he’s here.”
I try to shrug off her comments. “That’s reaching a little. I don’t understand why it’s any of your business anyway.”
“Transparency is important here. We don’t keep secrets. Especially ones that could put anyone else in the house in danger.”
“I’m not putting anyo
ne in danger.”
“Then who is he?”
I drop my fork on my plate and attempt to calm my nerves. I appreciate Skye’s play at friendship, but my need for space is sudden and unmistakable.
“Listen, Martine knows what I’m dealing with right now. That has to be enough. I can assure you that Tristan isn’t a threat to anyone here or me.”
I start to get up when she catches my hand.
“Wait. Just… I’m sorry.”
Her pretty blue eyes seem to implore me to stay.
Reluctant, I lower into my seat again.
“Let me explain a few things.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “It was hard for me at first to talk to people about the life I’d come from. It was humiliating. I felt so worthless, like no one could possibly understand how a person could fall so low.”
I replay her story and how she shared it with me so easily. I hadn’t thought any less of her. If anything, I considered her incredibly brave for stepping away from the only life she’d known, not fully trusting where a new path would take her.
“I don’t think that about you,” I say gently.
“I appreciate it. I need you to know, though, that whatever you’re dealing with, you can tell me, and I won’t judge you. I promise, I’m nothing but open ears and bottomless acceptance. I’m ready to make this shit right.”
“You can’t make this right.”
She folds her arms and leans in. “Try me.” Her determined posture doesn’t sway. “Martine says you’re running. Who are you running from? Is it him?”
I wince. “No. Tristan’s been with me through all of this. I just… I don’t know why I left DC without him.” I close my eyes a moment before opening them again. “I’ve seen a lot of people die the past two weeks. I came here hoping that if I disappeared for good, no one else would have to die because of me.”
Skye’s tenacity simmers a little, seeming to make room for me to tell her more if it’ll calm her down.
The Red Ledger [3] Page 4
