The Red Ledger 9 Page 4

  He shakes his head, the corner of his lips lifting into a half smile. “This isn’t about Simon, is it?”

  “This obviously has everything to do with Simon.”

  “No, it doesn’t. You’re pissed off because the senator is getting laid and you’re not.”

  “Fuck you.” I resume my journey to the car, a fresh bolt of rage razoring through me.

  “She’s home, you know,” he calls after me.

  I freeze and turn back. “Excuse me?”

  He strolls toward me, closing the distance between us. “After you took off yesterday, I asked a friend to keep an eye on her house. See if they saw her coming or going.”

  I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Outrage. Anxiety. Desperation.

  “A friend?”

  “Someone who has no idea who she is or why she’s important to anyone. Calm down, Red. I’m telling you so you know. You’re wound too tight over this girl. If you don’t get your head straight, you’re going to end up making a mistake that could cost you everything.”

  I fist and unfist my hands. “Do you really think psychoanalyzing me is a good use of your time?”

  “I think if I’m putting my ass on the line for you, I need to trust that your head is in the game and not twisted up worrying about Isabel and what she’s doing. So my professional advice to you would be to figure it out. Tonight, ideally, so we can regroup tomorrow and I don’t have to worry about you busting a blood vessel over something that doesn’t fucking matter. Like Keegan’s evening agenda.”

  My nostrils flare as I attempt to rein in the verbal tirade Makanga deserves. Except the more arguments I design to prove him wrong, the more I realize how right he is. I haven’t been able to think straight without her. I’m always focused when it comes to a job. Eliminating people is what I do. I should be calculating every possible move. Every angle and opportunity. Instead, half my thoughts are reaching for the woman who’s been ripped out of my life without warning.

  I’ve devoted countless hours to wondering if she was all right. If she’s home, that means Morgan worked something out with Rivero. It’s an open door for me to find her, an invitation that’s as dangerous as it is tempting.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Isabel

  The cab drops me off in the driveway. I’ve been running my conversation with Rivero over and over again in my head, agonizing over how far he’ll take this truth-finding mission when it comes to Tristan. But the second I see my mother’s car, all I can think about is getting inside. I pay the driver and rush to the house.

  I find my parents in the den. My father is seated on an accent chair, my mother on the couch, their bodies angled toward each other like maybe they’ve been trying to breach the space between them but haven’t yet. My mother’s eyes are red-rimmed when she looks up at me. I’m paralyzed in place, unsure how to be or how to act. So much has happened, and I can’t know how she feels.

  The same hesitation seems to swim in her eyes too. Her lip trembles as she lifts from her seat and comes to me. Her palms are soft and cool against my cheeks.

  “Isabel.” Her voice is a watery whisper.

  “You’re home.”

  Finally, after two days of wondering and worrying, though I’ve put her through far worse.

  She nods. “We both are. We’re both right where we’re supposed to be.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I stayed with a friend for a couple days. I just needed to clear my head. I… I was afraid to face either of you to be honest. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Isabel.”

  I let tears of relief blur my vision. She hugs me tightly. Part of me wants to apologize back. Another part of me doesn’t want to bother with the guilt when the choices we made were made out of love. We both know it.

  My father comes beside us, embracing us both. And in that moment, I know we’re going to be okay. If they’ve survived everything else, my parents can make it through this too. Even if the truth threatened to tear us apart, if somehow it can make us whole again, bring us closer than we were before, it was worth the risk. Worth the pain.

  My mother sighs heavily and pulls back, brushing at my tears with her thumbs. “Come sit with us. We have a lot to talk about.”

  I nod and settle beside my mother on the couch.

  “Now that you’re home,” she begins, “now that we’re all together, there’s nothing left to keep us from being completely honest with each other. Morgan told me everything that’s happening with Chalys. I’m shocked, but of course, I’m not. I knew they were truly terrible people. I just couldn’t prove it until it was too late. I never meant for this to affect you the way it has.” Her eyes fill with tears again, and she struggles to take her next breath.

  “Mom, it’s okay. We know enough now. Even if we can’t stop the train in its tracks, I think we’re going to be able to make a difference.”

  “I talked to my contact at the DEA today,” my father says. “Parish is going to package up what we know about the ports and tip them off about Medina. We can start there and branch out when we know more. But he’s on it. I think we’ll start looking into Pope next. He’s not as elusive as Simon. We might be able to trip him up more easily.”

  “That’s great.” His good news is quickly overridden by my worries over Rivero, though. “Dad, Rivero knows about Tristan.”

  He frowns. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. He ambushed me about it as soon as we were alone today. It’s like he’s determined to turn everything he doesn’t know into something bigger than it needs to be. Tristan’s hands aren’t exactly clean. Neither are mine. But Rivero seems locked into figuring out how Tristan ties into this. He knows I’m telling him half the truth, and he’s going to punish me for it.”

  “Not on my watch, he isn’t.”

  “He can cause problems for both of us. You can’t control him if he really wants to make a mess of this.”

  “We just need to keep him focused on other things. Did you hear back from your hacker friend yet? My gut tells me that’s a lead worth following.”

  “Landon has the numbers. I’m waiting to hear back, but it should be soon. He works quickly and wants to help. He’s been trying to track Simon’s movements for a while, but it’s kind of a blind spot. However he operates, he doesn’t make it easy to follow him.”

  “I’ll talk to Rivero next chance I get. Try not to worry,” he says.

  My mother takes my hand in hers and gives it a little squeeze. Being in the same room with both of them is a welcome relief, but strange too. We’ve been at odds for so long. I’ve been running from Simon’s people for even longer. The reunion with my parents heals something in my heart. But not everything. Being without Tristan with no promise of our own reunion feels like an open wound. I’m vulnerable and off-balance. My compass always points to him, except he’s lost to me now.

  “Have you heard from Tristan?” my mother asks.

  I shake my head. “Not yet,” I say softly. “I know this is the last thing you want to think about, but if things don’t go the way we want… If Rivero stays focused on Tristan and the trouble we’ve been in, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappear again. I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to come back home if I do.”

  “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 fo
rget 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 happen 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 unoff
icially, 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.