“First things first,” Alexis said. “We need to know everything there is to know about Angela Rosen. From both of you.” She gave both Serena and Huck pointed looks. “But I want to call my director; she’ll likely want to join this cozy little chat.”
“I’m all for bringing Rosen down—along with any and all of her colleagues—but that’s your game,” Serena said.
Alexis stared at the woman. “For someone whose identity is being sold, you sound awfully chill.”
Serena waved a hand. “Rosen is your investigation. She’ll never be able to dig up my real identity, anyway, and I couldn’t care less who is trying to buy it—there are dozens who would cough up the cash.”
“But there is something you do want, isn’t there?” Alexis asked cautiously.
Serena smiled. “There’s always a trade, darling. I’ll help you find out what we can about Rosen and her colleagues, and in exchange, you’ll tell me everything you know—and everything you learn—about the trafficking ring in Honduras.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was well past midnight when Alexis pulled into her drive. After Serena’s quid pro quo offer, she’d called Director Shah, who’d joined them at The Shack to hash out the details. The plan was relatively simple—as far as these things went—and starting tomorrow, Serena would begin an orchestrated dance of reaching out to Rosen, then pulling back, then reaching out again before pulling back. The back and forth would be designed to lull Rosen into believing that Serena was testing out whether or not to trust her. And as for Huck, they’d decided that he’d stay off the radar and essentially play “dead.” There’d be no reason for Rosen not to move forward with her plan if she believed Huck hadn’t run off and alerted someone about what he’d overheard.
Turning off the car, Alexis smiled, thinking of the four happy dogs who would greet them once they entered the house. But the smile faded when she took in the silent person in her passenger seat.
Isiah had given up his studio to Serena and Huck, and, not wanting him left without a bed to sleep in, Alexis had offered him one of her guestrooms. Glancing over at him as he took in the expansive house, she was pretty certain she’d made the wrong decision. It wasn’t that she thought he was going to freak out—he already had a pretty good idea of the luxury she had at her fingertips—but it felt disloyal to her teammates. She’d known them for seven months and not once invited them over. And here she was, more or less days after her first real conversation with Isiah, inviting him to stay the night.
“What are you thinking over there?” he asked in the darkness of the car.
She hesitated. Telling him what was going through her mind would open her up in a way she hadn’t been open with someone in, well, ever. In the grand scheme of things, what he was specifically asking, was a small thing. But to her, it was the equivalent of turning the knob and cracking open a door she hadn’t ever considering opening.
“Alexis?”
His voice rumbled softly through the car and she contemplated how, even in such a short time, he’d shown her the kind of person he was—honest, empathetic, and confident without being arrogant. He was a good person. Not to mention she was ridiculously attracted to him. The strain of working with the kidnapped women had kept her focused on work these past few days, but now they were home…she wanted to open that door.
She took a deep breath and looked at him. His dark eyes met and held hers. “I don’t invite people home with me,” she said.
His brows came together. “I have two CIA spies staying at my house—both of whom I’m not sure are one hundred percent sane. You offered me a bed to stay in, not a one night stand.”
At that, she smiled. “I appreciate you not making any assumptions about my offer to stay here. But that’s not what I meant. What I meant was that I literally don’t invite people over. In the seven months I’ve lived here, I’ve never asked any of my teammates over. I have friends at the shelter that I spend a lot of time with on my days off and I’ve never invited them over either. I mean, look at this place.” She gestured out the window. “It’s a prime spot for a high-end fundraiser, and while I’m not interested in loaning it out for that kind of thing willy nilly, I know the shelter and the work it does and the people who are committed to it. Offering to host something like that seems like something I should do, right?”
Isiah studied her for a long moment. It was interesting that other than a general sweeping glance of her home, he hadn’t stared or gawked. With three stories, a three hundred and sixty degree view—not that they could see that at this time of night—and a flowing lawn and large pool, it was definitely gawk-worthy. With his SEAL training, he would have taken in more than a usual person, but still, he seemed more curious than awed.
“We’ll talk about the fundraiser thing later because it seems like something you’d like to do but maybe haven’t admitted to yourself yet, but tell me what’s at the core of what’s making you uncomfortable in this moment. Is it having me here? Or is it more fundamental than that? Like, regardless of whether it was me or Serena or Huck or anyone else, this would be a big thing for you?”
Her heart rate kicked up a little at the question that stripped everything down to the real issue. She took a steadying breath and answered. “The latter,” she all but whispered.
Slowly, he nodded his understanding. “You’re a rational, intelligent woman, Alexis. There has to be a reason you’ve never invited your teammates—who I know you also consider your friends—over.”
In an instant, her mind flashed back to when she’d been eleven years old. Happy and carefree in the way that only a well-loved child could be. Summers with her grandparents in their summer house on the sea in Sweden, endless days of swimming and horseback riding, and countless sleepovers. But then that naïve carefreeness had vanished in minutes. And left behind the beginnings of the woman she was now.
She liked who she was now. She truly did. But sometimes she missed that carefree, laughing girl she’d once been.
She let out a quiet sigh. “There is. And it’s kind of a long story.”
“They usually are,” Isiah said, his lips tipping into a knowing smile of acknowledgment.
A small chuckle escaped her. “It’s not that long, but I think it might be time to share it with the team. And you, too.”
Surprise flashed across his face when she included him, and his expression softened.
“Any time.” He reached across the console and picked up her hand. Bringing her palm to his lips, he brushed a soft kiss in the center before setting it back down on her leg again.
His movements had been slow but deliberate and she wasn’t sure if she was glad for that or not. Had he lingered with his mouth so close to her palm, she would have brushed her fingers across his cheek and cupped his strong jaw. From there, with her skin touching his, it would have been so easy to draw him into a kiss. She wanted to kiss him—she craved that connection to him—but she knew that if she and Isiah walked that path it would be more than a casual affair. And though she was drawn to that—to him—her years of keeping most people at a distance gave her pause. Not because she didn’t want to open that door and travel that path, but because if she was going to, she wanted to do it right. And that meant she needed to lay, if not all, at least some of her cards on the table.
“I know this may sound weird, but I feel like I need to tell my team first. Or maybe not first, but at least at the same time. You’re right in that I consider them friends and I think a few of them might feel a little put out if they aren’t the first to hear it.”
It was Isiah’s turn to chuckle. “Jake?”
She returned his smile. “And probably Dominic, too. Beni would be a little pissed, but she’d get over it.”
“And Damian?”
“He’s the only one who I know for a fact would just nod, says ‘thanks for telling me,’ and move on.”
“In the brief time I saw you all interacting, I can see that. So,” he said, returning to the topic wi
th a nod toward the large double-hung mahogany front door. “Are we ready to go in? You okay with it?”
Her eyes flitted to the door and she nodded. “I need to invite everyone over for a barbeque tomorrow or something. But yeah, I’m ready to go in now.”
He didn’t give her a chance to second guess herself, and before she was done speaking, he was swinging the car door open and stepping out. By the time he snagged his bag from the backseat and rounded to the driver side, she was standing on the flagstone drive.
“Barbeque sounds good. I’ll even cook. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what exactly I’m stepping into,” he said, gesturing in a circle to their surroundings.
His words could be taken in more than one way, but the smile on his face led to only one conclusion—he still couldn’t quite take it all in, but he was game if she was.
Alexis answered his unasked question as they stepped through the door. “My parents bought this place a little over twenty years ago.”
Isiah paused and took in the massive foyer. The ground floor of the home was built somewhat into a hill and it was obvious that this entry level, though grand, wasn’t the main living area of the house. The floor was travertine tile, as it was with many of the houses in the Caribbean, and in front of him was a huge mahogany “Y” staircase. On either side of the staircase, against the back wall of the house, were two hallways, one running in each direction.
To his left was a wall with a huge black and white print of a city street scene—likely somewhere in Europe, judging by the architecture. On the wall to his right hung another scene, though this one looked to be somewhere in the rural south of the US, if the cotton field in the distance was anything to go by.
“That’s Stockholm. Where my mom grew up.” Alexis pointed to the cityscape. “And that’s an area south of Savannah, Georgia, where my dad is from,” she said, indicating the other picture. “There are two bedrooms that way,” she added, pointing to the left. “And a media room, that way,” she said, swinging her arm in the opposite direction. “The floor above us is the main social area. It has the kitchen, living room, my office, that kind of thing. And the third floor has four more bedrooms.”
She’d barely finished her sentence when three dogs came barreling down the staircase in a cacophony of nails against bare wood. Isiah cringed at the thought of the damage being done to the floor, but Alexis didn’t seem to notice as she dropped to her knees and welcomed all three dogs into a big group hug.
Isiah watched in awe—knowing he was seeing a side of Alexis very few had the privilege of witnessing—as she rubbed and petted and talked to each dog, telling them how much she missed them and what good boys and girls they were. The dogs danced around her, tails wagging, tongues licking, and noses nudging her for more love.
Glancing up, he noticed a fourth dog hanging back on the landing of the intersection of the staircase. Reddish in color and not particularly big, the dog stood still, watching the scene below, much as Isiah had.
“Alexis.”
From her position kneeling on the floor, she looked over her shoulder at him even as the dogs continued to jockey for her attention. He nodded toward the staircase. She looked in that direction and smiled.
“Hello, Red,” she said. The dog’s tail waved once. “How’s my pretty girl doing?” Again a single tail wag. In the meantime, a small brown and white dog that looked to be the youngest of the bunch, and one who Isiah would swear was smiling, wandered over to meet him. He knelt to pet the puppy as he watched the dog on the stairs.
“Eric said you had a good day yesterday,” Alexis crooned to Red. “Did you have fun dipping your feet in the pool?” That question got her three wags of the tail. “Yes, he said you had a good time swimming with George here.”
“George? Red?” Isiah asked as another dog made its way to him and joined the puppy in sniffing him out.
Alexis rose as she spoke. “That’s Red, at the top of the stairs. She’s painfully shy but incredibly sweet. We’re trying to get her to come out of her shell, but her early years were hard and it’s going to be tough. That’s George.” She pointed to the black and white dog. “And that’s Allie and Howdy,” she added, pointing first to the black and tan adult dog then to the puppy.
“All foster dogs?” he asked, giving Howdy one last pat before rising himself.
She nodded. “Allie and George will likely be heading to Miami in a month or so to be adopted up there. Red, we’re still not sure about.”
“And Howdy?”
She cocked her head as she looked at the little dog who was now sniffing his shoes. “Howdy is, well, we’re not sure yet. There are a couple of options we’re looking into.”
Something in her voice caught his attention, but when he looked at her in question, her expression told him they’d discuss it later. He wasn’t sure why, but it also wasn’t a big deal and so he picked up his bag and gestured toward the staircase.
“Wait, you didn’t turn off an alarm when we came in. I have a hard time believing that you don’t have one.”
She laughed. “Oh yes, there’s an alarm. My security team would have turned it off when they opened the gates at the bottom of the driveway. Teddy shares security duties with Mac and both live in the gatehouse.”
He had noticed the building when they’d come through the gates and remembered Alexis mentioning Teddy living onsite. “Makes sense, but do you need to turn it on now that we’re inside?”
“There are alarms—both pressure-sensitive and motion-detecting around the entire perimeter of the property.” They started up the stairs as she answered. “Once we get ready for bed, I’ll turn the house alarm on. It’s not motion-detecting inside, but all the doors and windows are wired. It can tell the difference between whether a door or window is opened from the inside or outside, though, so even if the alarm is on, if we open a door to, say, step out onto the balcony, the alarm won’t go off.”
As she finished, they stepped onto what he’d call the ground floor. Given the design of the house, this level, with its expansive kitchen and living area, flowed out onto outdoor patios on each side, and a balcony stretched along the front.
“What if we step outside, shut the door, then open it from outside when we need to get back in?”
Alexis chuckled. “I had the exact same question,” she said as she bent down to give George a head rub. George, Allie, and Howdy were still circling their heels while Red hung back, watching them from the living room. “Do you want any water or anything before we head to bed?” she asked.
When he shook his head, she led him down a short hallway. A floating staircase lined a wall that ran parallel to the back wall of the house—a wall that was made entirely of windows. It was an unusual construction—to have so many windows that weren’t viewable from any of the main living spaces. But he supposed that in the day, they let in a lot of light that was diffused and soft, rather than glaring.
“As to your question, yes, they will go off in that scenario if you don’t re-open them correctly. I hope you don’t mind, but Yael scanned your thumbprint into our system. There’s a pad on each door. If you put your thumb on it when you open it, it will recognize you.”
They reached the top floor and the wide, wood plank floors of the landing. He walked toward a glass and metal railing and looked over, down into the living room below. Turning his back to it, he noted that, similar to the entry level, there were hallways headed off in each direction along the back of the house.
“My thumbprint? Do I want to know how she got that?”
Alexis pursed her lips and for the first time, looked a little concerned. “I know we should have asked…”
Yes, they should have. Or at least told him it was a condition of staying here. But then again, he wouldn’t have said no. And, more importantly, it meant that she trusted him to be here.
“It would have been good to know, but it’s not a big deal,” he said. She searched his face and for the first time, he glimpsed a hint of vuln
erability there. Yes, in the car she’d voiced her doubts and her questions, but this was a different kind of vulnerability. One that told him that it mattered to her if she’d upset him.
Slowly, he walked toward her, his bag brushing his side with each step. When he was close enough, he cupped her cheek with one of his hands. “Like I told you earlier, this will take some getting used to, but it’s not going to scare me off. I know you’re safe with me and I hope you know it, too. But if your security team needs my fingerprints to confirm that, I’m not going to get all het up about it. There’s a reason for your security, and hopefully you’ll share that with me some day, but in the meantime, I wouldn’t be worth your time if I put up a fuss about people who love you trying to keep you safe. And I want to be worth your time.”
He could feel her rapid pulse under his fingertips, and her blue eyes never wavered from him. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. She opened to him willingly, and he finally got a taste of the heat between them. But only just a taste. By unspoken agreement, they kept this moment gentle, a tentative exploration of their physical and emotional connection.
When he pulled back, she looked more confident and a small smile teased her lips. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Understanding. For not freaking out. For not letting this,” she said, making the same circular gesture he’d made outside, “get to you. Then again, with your background, probably not a lot gets to you,” she added, giving him a full—if somewhat rueful—smile.
He chuckled and stepped back. To some extent, she was right. As a SEAL he’d seen enough of humanity and inhumanity that the daily ups and downs of civilian life didn’t warrant getting too worked up about. But in other ways, she was dead wrong. Because she got to him. Got to him in ways no one else had. Her intelligence, her competence, her moments of vulnerability, drew him in. And though he was careful not to show it, he was fighting some strong caveman instincts when it came to her. He didn’t want to possess her or control her, but wanted her—in every way possible.
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