He nudges us to the bed, and we tumble down together. Our hands are everywhere. He tugs my shirt off with one unapologetic sweep.
“We can stop.” His words don’t match his movements. Every tender touch has an edge. A ridge of teeth. The blunt edge of his nails down my thighs locked tight around his hips. “If it’s too much, tell me now.” His voice is thready with restraint.
“No… I need this.”
I need too much. I need to feel something other than this fear. This valley of darkness in my soul growing wider with every fresh tragedy, every harrowing realization of what the world is truly made of. Tristan may be covered in its shadows, but we’re in this together… I can live in the margins if I have him with me. If we can have this…
Tristan holds his weight above me, dragging hungry kisses down my neck and along my shoulder. I arch and tug at his waist, eager to feel the heavy press of him, all his harnessed strength.
Licking along my collarbone, he drifts his mouth to the small charm resting in the well below my neck.
“My miracle,” he whispers when he gets back to my ear. “My saint…”
I can’t wait anymore. I push my panties down, and he drags them the rest of the way. I reach for the knot where his towel is tucked in, and it falls away, the sensation of terry cloth replaced by the rough hair on his legs as I lock my thighs around him. The searing heat of his erection slides up my belly. He glances down between us, repeating the motion until I’m trembling.
He pins my hip to the mattress with one hand, stilling my impatient gyrations.
“I can’t risk getting you pregnant, Isabel. I wasn’t thinking straight last time.”
I blink up into his eyes. Something about the fact that he was too consumed to take care last time makes me even crazier with need. Once upon a time, I’d fantasized about having Tristan’s babies, being his wife, sharing every experience life would give us. I could have never expected this life…
“I told you, I’ve got it covered. For the next three years, actually,” I admit, thanks to the contraceptive implant hidden in my arm. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
He exhales roughly. “Sounds perfect.”
He closes in for another kiss, his relief palpable. I share his relief. I fall into it. I cry out with it when he finally pushes inside me. So close. As close as two people can be. I clench around him, savoring our union and aching for more.
He sets a deep, drowsy rhythm between us. And as the real world drifts away, Tristan fills the frame. The Tristan who’s not the same but somehow more. Ruthless and hardened, he’s claiming space in my heart like a warrior protecting what’s always been his. Our bonds, our wounds, and our memories—they wind us tighter day by day.
Over and over I breathe his name into the space between our lips. I revel in his weight and the pressure building with each passing minute. I feel every ridge, every slide, every clutch and drag and pulse of flesh. But the higher we climb, the fewer places I have to hide.
Flashes of violence and death seep in and swim among my thoughts. My mind has become a dark ocean, soothing and rhythmic one moment, angrily revealing its monsters the next.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to force the visions away.
“Isabel.”
I open my eyes to Tristan’s. I don’t have to say anything. One shared look, and he seems to know.
“Look at me… Stay with me…”
I gasp when he roots deeper. The breathtaking sensation and his lust-painted features command my attention, magnetize all my roaming thoughts to the physical act and the invisible vibrations around my heart, where he’s owning me a little bit more.
Look at me. Say my name. He murmurs the demands against my mouth. Takes me up and away, closer to the peak.
Trust me. Be with me. Remember me, Isabel…
I do, I am, and I could never forget…
My eyes drift closed. I’m shaking again. So close… He’s all cool ocean, but my heart knows the monsters lurk on the other side of this bliss.
He takes my hands and clutches them tightly above my head.
He kisses me hard. Rocks into me harder. Takes and takes and forces me to take too. He drains my thoughts until all that’s left is the raw feeling of our bodies crashing together.
“Let go, Isabel,” he says. “Let go with me.”
And then I do.
TRISTAN
I haven’t existed the past three years without the pleasure of female company from time to time. I never walked away feeling anything more than basic physical satisfaction, though. Nothing like how I feel now.
I’m sitting in the chair where I found Isabel holding my gun in her lap not that long ago. She’s asleep now, curled up like a baby bird in a warm nest of soft, white hotel sheets. I’m completely preoccupied with her and this odd afterglow. Utterly blown away by this bone-deep compulsion I have to build a bulletproof wall around her and fight this war for the rest of our lives if it means keeping her safe forever.
Every day, I find myself needing her more and seeing it mirrored in her eyes. A runaway train I have no hope of slowing down.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to find the motherfucker who killed her friend and put his name in my book along with anyone else who dares come after her. Chances are high I may already know who it is.
Jay’s the key. Jude. Whatever name she uses, whatever bullshit organization she hides behind, she’s the heartless bitch who yanks on Company Eleven’s reins. I’m done running. Done playing this game like I’m a mark she’ll have cornered in a matter of time. Fuck that. If Isabel can get to her, so can I.
The problem is I can’t leave Isabel alone right now. She’s too emotional, too raw. I shouldn’t and won’t leave her to her own devices. One look at her with her hands wrapped around my gun struck fear in my heart that I still can’t shake. If she’s harboring any thoughts of hurting herself or anyone else, she can’t be left alone.
I quietly open my laptop, track down Lucia Foster’s information, and shoot off a message. If all goes to plan, she’ll be here by tonight to keep Isabel from climbing the walls while I’m gone.
I pull up a few more searches and retreat to the hallway to make some calls, including one to Trinity House with an inquiry about Director McKenna’s availability this week. She’s at a conference for the next few days in New York. If it’s not bullshit, I plan to find her there.
I make another call to Morgan.
“I need to know more about Jude McKenna,” I say when he picks up.
“Who’s she?”
“She’s the director at the Trinity House, which I’m pretty sure is a front. In real life, she manages the group I’ve been working for.”
He’s quiet a moment. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m positive,” I say, hoping to convey the seriousness of my request for intel. I can hack my way into plenty of resources, but Morgan has clearances that give him access to significantly more. “If I can get to her, I can figure out who put the hit out on Isabel.”
“Give me a minute,” he mutters.
I hear a door close through the phone and then the clicking of keys.
“Jude Ellen McKenna. Thirty-four. West Point after graduation. Four years in the army. Two years with the DEA. And she’s been managing Trinity House ever since.”
“Interesting transition,” I say dryly.
“No kidding. I’ll send you her address. I can apply for a tap on her phone.”
“No.” Something tightens in my gut. Instinct.
“No?”
“A tap could raise red flags. I don’t know how deep this goes, and I don’t want to spook her.”
He’s silent on the other end of the phone. “How is Isabel doing? We heard about Brienne. Does she know?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She knows. She saw everything.” I’d pay a king’s ransom to erase the terror in her eyes. Even when we were making love—and that’s sure as hell what it felt like we were doing—I
could see her struggling to keep the memories at bay.
Morgan exhales heavily. “Goddamnit.”
I pace down the empty hotel hallway. “You should take extra precautions. If they found us there, they’ll be watching your place.”
“It’s already taken care of.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch,” I say before hanging up and heading back to the room.
When I open the door, Isabel is pacing, tears in her eyes.
My heart falls like a rock into my stomach. “Shit, I’m sorry. You were sleeping, so I made some calls in the hallway. I was right here.”
I go to her, but she tenses, pressing her tight fists against my chest, fire in her eyes. I don’t let it keep me from wrapping my arms around her. Breathing her in. Whispering apologies in her ear until she softens against me.
“I’m right here. I won’t leave you,” I promise, knowing I’ll have to break it too soon.
We make love again, and it’s no less intense. Every time we’re together, I’m caught in that strange place between my past and my reality. She’s brand-new and familiar at once. Discovery and memory fusing into one intoxicating, boundary-shattering experience.
I lie beside her as we catch our breath and I wait for my heart to find a normal rhythm. Her arms are above her head, resting on the lone pillow that wasn’t tossed to the floor. The narrow line of calligraphy trailing up her ribcage catches my eye.
I roll to my side and prop my head on my elbow to study it closer.
She peeks out from under her arm. “What?”
“I was just wondering about this.” I brush my thumb up the ink and caress her breast while I’m there.
एकं जीवनम्, एकः अवसरः
She hums softly and tangles our fingers together. “One life. One chance. It’s Sanskrit.”
I remember the first time I noticed it. Now I know what it’s like to be the reason for her cries of pleasure, to be the man who makes her scream my name, not just the memory. Going through with the hit on her life seems unthinkable.
Her eyes close sleepily. “Reminds me not to let fear get in my way.”
I’m glad she can’t see the turmoil those words inspire. Thanks to me, whatever fears she had about the world before are likely a hundred times more terrifying now. Then again, maybe she’s braver than she realizes. Maybe knowing what she’s truly capable of can crush more of the fear that once held her back. We’ll find out soon enough, but I’m not ready to go there yet. I’m more than content to stay in this post-fuck haze for as long as I can.
I lower my head to nibble on her shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”
She turns into my chest and nuzzles against me. “You’re trying to get laid again.”
I drape my arm around her and hold her to me, unwilling to argue.
“Do I fuck the same?”
Her lips quirk up a little. Seeing her smile releases another hit of endorphins into my already thoroughly blissed out bloodstream.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
She shrugs. “I can tell you’ve had experience.”
“Oh.” I hesitate. “Does that bother you?”
Hopefully not, since I can’t do a damn thing to undo it.
She draws a ring around one of my scars—an old one that’s faded white but is unmistakably from an ugly bullet puncture. “All things considered, no.”
I exhale a measure of relief. True enough, we’re alive. Presently safe. Not much room to complain. At least not when it comes to the way our bodies seem made for each other.
We linger that way for a long time. Not talking. Just breathing. Touching. Drifting in and out of sleep. When I glance at the clock for the last time, I remind myself that we can’t stay this way forever, no matter how much I may want to.
I get up and shower while she orders room service. When I emerge, she’s bundled in her robe that seems to swallow her up, eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese. I steal a couple of bites before I towel dry and get dressed.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t answer her right away. I can sense our perfect day is about to come to a grinding halt.
“Tristan?”
I toss some of my things into a bag. “Jay’s going to New York. I’m going to meet her there and get some answers.”
Her fork clangs against the dish. “You said you weren’t going to leave.”
I sit across from her, grateful when she lets me take her hand. “I know I did. Your mom is going to stay here with you while I’m gone, though. I won’t be long. Two days at most.”
She doesn’t acknowledge this as she gets up and begins pacing between the two rooms of the suite.
“Isabel…”
She halts and pins me with a taut look. “What?”
I sigh. “Listen, I get it. Every time I’m not with you lately, it gives me a goddamn heart attack. But we can’t stay holed up here forever. I need to get to Jay before she realizes I’m coming for her. Then I’m coming back to you and we’re going to get out of here. I promise.”
She worries her lower lip and continues pacing.
I get up and stop her, bracing my hands on her arms.
“Look at me. Do you think I’ve made it this far being careless?”
“But she made you this way. The people she controls are just like you.”
I shake my head. “No, Isabel. I’m better than they are.”
She searches my gaze, seeming to slowly accept that this might be true. Granted, I haven’t come in contact with everyone in Jay’s employ, but I have a pretty good idea of where I stand next to the ones I have.
“And for the record, she didn’t make me. She used me. I learned some tricks of the trade, sure, but she doesn’t get to take credit for the nuts and bolts of who I am.”
She looks down. “I just don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that when you’re strong for me, you’re strong for both of us. Just you and me. Remember?”
She glances up, her eyes gleaming in the darkening room. “I remember,” she whispers shakily.
We both turn at a knock on the door. We won’t be alone after this, so I steal this last moment to kiss her. A soft, chaste kiss. A promise that I will come back to her.
CHAPTER TEN
Isabel
Tristan leaves, and heroically, I don’t make a scene, even though I’m worried I’ll turn to dust if anything happens to him.
He’ll be fine. He’s strong. Dangerous. Cunning.
Two days. I can handle that, I reassure myself.
I join my mother in the living area of the suite. The suitcases she rolled in are open on the ground, filled with clothes, makeup, and several small black pouches and cases.
“What is all this, Mom? It’s two days. You look like you’re moving in.”
“It’s not for me.” She smiles thinly. She’s more put together than I saw her the other day. Her makeup is fresh. Her hair is blown out. She looks like she’s dressed to kick ass in tight leather pants and a deep-maroon shirt tucked under the waistband.
“I travel light these days. I don’t need all this.”
She sits down on the couch, patting the place beside her. “Let’s talk.”
I peer down at the luggage and join her. Her bent knee takes the space on the cushion between us. She takes my hand and squeezes.
“I heard about Brienne. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
I try to ignore the way my throat constricts. I refuse to cry.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says gently. “But now at least you know the kind of people we’re dealing with. You’ve seen what they’re capable of.”
I still at her even tone.
“They murdered two guards where we were staying in Brazil. I know they won’t hesitate.”
She pauses. “I’m not sure how to say this delicately.”
“Say what?”
“You need to disappear. At least for a litt
le while.”
“Tristan said we need to move on soon. I get it.”
She shakes her head tightly. “I’m not sure you do. There’s no place you can go as Isabel Foster without them finding you. This is more serious than anyone realized. They’re not going to stop this hunt until they find you.” She clutches my hand firmly. “I’d rather bury your name than your body, Isabel. I’d never survive it.”
I simply stare at her in stunned silence. “What are you saying?”
She reaches into one of the suitcases, retrieves a manila folder, and places her hand on it as if she’s taking an oath.
“What is that?”
“This… This is a new life to take the place of the one you’ll need to give up.”
I shade my head in disbelief, but she keeps going, her voice lapsing with emotion every so often.
“A birth certificate. Social security number. Passport. Bank accounts with all the money you’ll need for a while.”
I bolt up and back away. “Mom, what the hell?”
Her expression hardens. She speaks through gritted teeth. “Isabel, I will not let them take you from me too.”
Exasperated, I throw my hands up. “This isn’t about Mariana, Mom.”
She sets the folder aside and stands, her hands in tight fists. “This has everything to do with Mariana. Why do you think I always hovered? Why do you think I protected you at every turn? Fought to keep you home until you fought me back so hard, all I could do was let you go. They killed her, and I never knew if they would come for you next.”
My breathing is erratic. I miss Tristan. Need his arms. His reassurance.
“You sound crazy. You’re not making sense. She had leukemia. There was nothing you could do.”
She closes her eyes, exhales heavily, and walks to the window. “You don’t know the whole story, Isabel.”
“Then tell me, because you’re scaring me with all this. I know this is bad. Really fucking bad. But you’re talking about…basically…killing me.” I can’t hide the panic in my voice.
“I know what I’m asking. And the choice is yours. I’m just giving you everything you’ll need if you decide this is what you want. There’s not much time.”
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