Revenge

by Meredith Wild

  “It won’t come to that,” my mother offers.

  I lift my gaze to my father’s. His expression is hard and less hopeful. He knows there’s a chance. I expect he’s already considered it. If they were scared enough to fake my death, they understand that drastic measures are sometimes the only measures.

  TRISTAN

  A sound argument could be made that climbing the tree in Isabel’s backyard—the one that leads directly to her bedroom window—won’t get me any closer to the preeminent goal of eliminating Simon. Every awkward shift toward the darkened glass is a testimony to my lack of reason when it comes to Isabel Foster—the woman I’ve managed to fall in love with twice.

  I drove around DC for hours trying to convince myself I could forget about her long enough to get the job done. But when I turned down her street, the anticipation of seeing her again, holding her, and breathing her in was too overwhelming to deny. I have to see her. I don’t care if it’s for an hour or a night. It no longer feels optional.

  I press my palms against the panels and glide the window up from the bottom, far enough to work my way through it. In the darkness I can recognize Isabel’s shape under the sheet, her blanket kicked off the edge of the bed. I can hardly breathe. I’ve missed her more than I let myself realize. As much as I wish I could go to her and wrap my arms around her this very instant, I worry I’m going to scare her to death if I do. The last thing I need is her parents hearing her scream out in terror.

  I hover at the foot of her bed, contemplating what to do. I shrug out of my jacket, tug off my shirt, and toe out of my shoes. The bed dips as I add my weight and gradually align my body with hers. We’ve spent nearly every night together since we left Rio. Maybe she’ll wake up and forget we’ve been apart. That’s the gamble I make when I feather my fingertips along her jaw, lean in, and gently press my lips to hers.

  She releases a little moan. I whisper her name, willing her to rouse enough to know I’m not a dream. I caress her skin softly, slowly. She shifts against me, her eyes still closed. It’s all I can do to hold back. I ache to touch her everywhere, to remember every inch of her in the darkness.

  “Wake up, Isabel. It’s me.”

  When her eyelids flutter open, I still, waiting for her to react. For her to realize I came for her. That I couldn’t stay away.

  “It’s me,” I say again, hovering my lips over hers. “I had to see you.”

  Her hands curve over my shoulders, then go to my face and slide through my hair. “Tristan… Oh my God. You’re really here.”

  The agony in those last words rips through me, like maybe she thought we’d been torn apart forever. I know the sentiment too well.

  “It’s okay. I’m here now,” I say, hoping to allay her worries.

  We have a million things to talk over, but right now all I care about is this closeness. The feel of her. The invisible energy that hums between us that I can’t name but crave like it’s air.

  When I dip to take her lips again, she meets me halfway. The kiss she returns is desperate, nearly bruising in its intensity. She’s all-consuming. Every cell of my body wants to reach inside hers. We kiss until we can’t breathe, until she’s writhing against me. Pushing and pulling, like we’re at war. Like I’m her heaven and her hell. I try to keep up and answer every demand, every invitation and needy cry, but she’s a mile ahead of me. With a frustrated groan, she pushes me away, lifting her torso up with mine as she straddles my lap.

  Our mouths crash together once more. Her taste floods my senses. Her fevered touches and the way she grinds against me are quickly bringing me up to speed. Then I’m in the race right beside her, lifting away her night shirt to get access to more of her delicious skin.

  “Now,” she whimpers, reaching for the button on my jeans. “Now, Tristan. Please.”

  I free myself just enough and push her panties out of the way. Her thin cry pierces the air as I ease her down, fitting her around me until there’s nowhere left to go. My head is buzzing. Being inside her is almost too intoxicating to bear after this absence.

  My hand rests firmly on her hip. I hold her there, savoring the sudden connection, slowing down the moment to simply feel her. This completeness. I’ve never felt this whole. Until now, I don’t think I’ve realized with such certainty that I can’t be without her. Ever. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll need her.

  When she squirms, I let her move and take the control she’s hungry for. I take her mouth, probing my tongue gently but possessively in time with her movements. I want all her air. Every intimate valley of her flesh. All her desire. The tiny whimpers that tumble from her lips every time I can’t get any deeper.

  A reminder of our surroundings sobers me just enough to hush her softly, knowing it’ll take all our restraint to keep this reunion quiet. More than quiet if we want to see it through. The last time we were alone together in her childhood bedroom, I held back because it was too risky. There’s no holding back tonight.

  When her eyes close and her lips part, I tip her gaze back to me.

  “Look at me.” I tangle my fingers tightly into her locks of hair, making it impossible for her to escape the tractor beam between us.

  Her thighs tremble as she hooks her fingernails into my flesh, but she doesn’t look away. Even in the dark, her eyes shimmer. As the minutes pass, the shimmer trails down her cheeks.

  I’m caught someplace between her heart and the needy clutch of her body. Witnessing her tears is an emotional surge I’m powerless against when I’m already drowning in how much I love her.

  I taste her tears and nip at her lips. I bind us tighter and faster, intent on driving the pain away. The distance. All of it. Every shred of misery, until there’s nothing left but the last cry of pleasure that tears from her. I consume it in the hot meld of our mouths, letting it vibrate into my chest as I finally let go.

  For all the self-control I thought I once possessed, Isabel proves over and over I have so little with her. I hold her against me as we float down from the high. I drag my lips reverently over her skin, because as the euphoria fades, it makes room for the ugly reality that this intimacy is short-lived. Every second is a gift. I have to savor them all.

  Gradually I lift her away. We lie down together. I’m still half-dressed, but she draws the sheet over both of us before taking the space in the nook of my shoulder.

  I close my eyes, both heavier and lighter at once. “I’m sorry…for leaving you.”

  “I know why you did.”

  I’d hoped she would. The possibility that she thought I’d abandoned her has been eating away at me along with everything else. I trusted she knew better, but hearing her say it removes the doubt.

  “Are you okay?”

  I can feel her shift to look at me. “Are you?”

  I feather a touch down her arm, enjoying the feel of her against me. “I’m not really okay when we’re apart.” I utter the admission, feeling both the weight of our separation and the vulnerability that loving Isabel creates in me. The once unexpected and unwelcome exposure has become something else over time—a circumstance that leaves me unarmed in some ways, stronger in others. But Isabel will forever be worth the risk.

  She grazes her palm across my scarred stomach with a sweet affection that sometimes I still can’t fully understand. She does more than accept my flaws. She seems to take them on as her own, turning them into something less tragic and more worthy of the love she offers so freely.

  “I’m not either,” she whispers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Isabel

  If being with Tristan just now hadn’t awakened every nerve ending in my body, I might wonder if his sudden appearance in my bedroom was an apparition. With my body melded against his and his scent all around me, I’m tempted to chase sleep with the fantasy that we don’t have to be apart ever again. As perfect as he feels and as blissed out as I am, I can’t ignore the sobering truth.

  “I don’t want you to leave. But I’m so scared of what might happe
n if you stay.”

  With Rivero still bent on a mission for discovery, I don’t take for granted that Tristan could hide out here with any degree of security. To appease my father, Rivero has to keep me out of this for now. Clearly Tristan doesn’t fall inside those boundaries.

  “I know I can’t stay,” he says.

  I burrow closer as he tightens his arm around me. I wish I could leave with Tristan tonight. Disappear into the darkness and chase a new life with him.

  “It’ll be over soon. I promise.” His tone is more resolute than hopeful. “What happened with Rivero?”

  “When my father finally set him straight, I told them everything that could help start an investigation into Simon’s affairs. They’ve agreed to work together unofficially, off the record, which keeps me out of the crosshairs of the FBI and gives everyone the flexibility to dig deeper without anyone between the two agencies stopping them.”

  “Are they making any progress?”

  “They’ve found a lot of things on Knight’s laptop. I told them I’d help them trace the account numbers. I sent them to Landon. I’m just waiting to hear back. So far, nothing points to Simon, so I’m not sure what to expect. But they have the DEA looking at Medina and ramping up security at the key ports.”

  His silence worries me. I lift up on my elbow to meet his gaze.

  “Where have you been staying?”

  “With our old friend in Arlington.”

  I smile a little, relieved.

  He reaches up and tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. “Simon is having a meeting with Senator Keegan in two days. The one who was having an affair with Devon Aguilera. I’m hoping to drop in on him when the time is right.”

  The lingering buzz of our lovemaking dissipates with this news. “Are you serious?”

  “Unless Keegan screws it up for me, which I’m guessing he won’t if he ever wants to see his mistress again. He wasn’t behind the hit. They’re kind of disgustingly smitten with each other, actually.”

  “Where is the meeting?”

  He lets his hand fall to his head, scrubbing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “When there’s a vote going on, Keegan mostly operates out of an office in one of the lower levels of the Capitol building. It’s a terrible place for a hit. If I wasn’t so determined to make this Simon’s last meeting, I would have put it off. Killing him on a yacht surrounded by guests would have been a walk in the park next to getting it done in a government building with that kind of security. Had I only known back in Miami, I would have finished the job no matter what.”

  My thoughts spin. A meeting with Simon is a coup, but having grown up in DC, I can understand Tristan’s concerns. Security is tight and ever-present in that area of the city, inside and outside the building. Even if he gets past enough of it to intercept the meeting, slipping away unnoticed won’t be easy if anyone suspects there’s something wrong.

  “Can Keegan get you inside?”

  “Not unless he wants to go to prison for issuing me a visitor pass to kill his two o’clock appointment.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “Do what I do with the least amount of attention and collateral damage as possible. Keegan has to pretend he knew nothing was amiss. Find a reason to show up late, maybe long enough so I can do what I need to and then get the hell out, hopefully without setting off a citywide manhunt.”

  Anxiety takes root. This doesn’t feel right. “Tristan, there has to be a better way. I know you’re determined, but you can’t sacrifice yourself to get to him.”

  “I’m aware of the risks. You can rest assured that however it goes down, I don’t plan on getting caught.” The rigid tension of his body softens a little. “This has to end, and you know it. Simon’s the only one standing between you and me and any kind of normal life. I never thought I could have anything like that before, but now it’s all I think about. I’m not putting you through any more of this nightmare, and I’m not staying away from you a day more than I have to.”

  His words give voice to the kind of hopes I’m afraid to say out loud because they feel too idealist to be possible. Sometimes I forget that I lost everything. My job. My identity. One of my best friends. Maybe I force myself to forget all that so I can keep surviving the way I have. To have it back…my life, my freedom, my happiness… Only my fear of losing Tristan could make me turn away from that dream.

  “We could still run. I know my father would help us. My parents already know it’s a possibility if Rivero doesn’t stick to the plan.”

  He shakes his head gently. “No more running.”

  There’s no talking him out of it. Part of me doesn’t want to either. Another part of me wants to throw myself in the way of anything that would endanger him. Intercepting a meeting with Simon reeks of danger. I used to be afraid of Simon’s henchmen, but getting clipped by the authorities is a fresh concern.

  “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.” I can’t hide the emotion in my voice. I wish I could pretend to be stronger, but I can’t.

  “I’ll be fine. This is what I do.”

  Another promise with no guarantee.

  “Will you at least talk to my father? He might be able to help.”

  He tenses again.

  “I talked to him about the letter,” I continue. “I never thought I’d hear him say it, but he understands now that nothing is going to keep us apart. He’s fighting for us. He’ll help.”

  He’s quiet for a long time before he finally speaks. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  I know Tristan. He’s already thought about it. He won’t trust my father, no matter what I say.

  TRISTAN

  I should go. I need my mind sharp to figure out how I’m going to get to Simon, but I haven’t slept at all. Isabel is dozing beside me, so at peace in rest that I haven’t been able to bring myself to leave the comfort of her presence. As dawn starts to push light through the curtains, illuminating more of her, I promise myself a few more minutes to appreciate her in daylight. Then a few minutes more.

  The early morning calm is interrupted by the vibrating buzz of her phone on the bedside table. I pick it up, hoping to silence it before it wakes her up. Except it’s Blake Landon’s name that shows up on the screen. I swipe the screen to answer.

  “This is Tristan.”

  “Hey. Is Isabel there?”

  “She’s sleeping.” I keep my voice low, but Isabel starts to stir.

  “Shit. Sorry. I haven’t slept yet. Been at this all night,” he says.

  “Makes two of us.”

  Isabel blinks awake and looks up at me. Her hair is mussed and her lips are swollen. Never mind that she’s naked and warm with only a little bit of sheet between us. Seeing her this way is worth every minute of sleep sacrificed.

  “Banks are opening in a few hours, and I wanted to do my research in the off hours.”

  Landon’s voice distracts me from the visual.

  “Did you find anything?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. The accounts are all what you’d expect Knight to set up. Except for one.”

  I wait for him to continue and put the phone on speaker so Isabel can hear now that she’s fully awake.

  “Who’s Jude McKenna?”

  Landon’s question is met with more silence as Isabel and I lock gazes. I contemplate how to reply, since Jay’s involvement has been complicated from day one.

  “She used to be affiliated with Simon’s organization.”

  “Well, it looks like she might still be. There’s one account with all the big players on it. Davis Knight, Gillian Mirchoff, Michael Pope. Simon’s even listed, which was the first thing I noticed since he’s suspiciously absent from pretty much everything else. Then there’s Jude McKenna. Except she’s not a billionaire captain of industry as far as I can tell. Used to work for the DEA until she started running a rehabilitation center in DC. I went to do some more digging on her, but all her accounts have been radio silent for t
he past month.” He pauses a moment. “Is this making any sense to you?”

  “How much is in the account?” I ask, avoiding his question.

  I can hear Landon tapping his keys rapidly. “Just over ten million, but there are new deposits going in every day. Random amounts from different accounts. Most are international. I’ll need more time to track the sources on those.”

  “What’s the account number?”

  He rattles off the same one Mateus was told to deposit his cleaned funds into. Fucking hell.

  “Thanks. This is helpful,” I say, sidestepping further conversation about Jay.

  “No problem. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up.”

  I hang up and drop the phone onto the bed between us. Isabel’s worried look reflects my own fresh concern over this news.

  “What the hell, Tristan? Why would Jay be on the account?”

  I do my best to hide my own outrage at having missed this possibility. It’s not like we haven’t had enough to worry about, but I’d taken for granted that Jay had extracted herself from Company affairs weeks ago. I have to consider all or at least some of it was a lie.

  “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s been involved with them for years. Until Crow kidnapped her and made her a liability, it would make perfect sense for her to be involved in anything this big.”

  “Why wouldn’t they take her off the account?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe they were waiting for her to make an attempt at the funds so they could track her down and take her out. Or maybe nothing really changed between them at all. That’s a lot of money to walk away from, regardless of the circumstances.”

  “But if she hasn’t used any of her accounts, it seems like she’s still hiding.”

  Isabel is trying to give my former manager the benefit of the doubt. I can sense her reaching for a way to resolve this in her mind. God love her, she’s still trying to see the best in people when we’ve seen the worst of humanity these past two months.