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I crush Isabella to me and release a harsh breath. “I heard you, dove. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of it.”
But first, I need to make sure Isabella doesn’t spiral further.
Now that I know the real reason she’s been keeping me at arm’s length, my mind starts racing. On the one hand, I’m relieved that it has nothing at all to do with me. On the other hand, I’m terrified of what this newfound information is going to do to us.
To Isabella, in particular.
Even on her best day, my dove is delicate and fragile, and I know how much she hates violence. I still remember how shaken and ill at ease she was when the mayor’s man broke into our house. It took her days to shake his image away, and she wasn’t even the one who pulled the trigger.
Knowing that she now has blood in her hands doesn’t sit well with me. Because I know this is going to push her to the brink of insanity. And I have no idea how to help her.
Isabella sniffles quietly. “Do you hate me now?”
I draw back to look at her. “Dove, I could never hate you. I don’t give a shit what you had to do to protect yourself. We all have to do messed up shit to protect ourselves.”
Isabella’s breath hitches in her throat. “I’ve never had to.”
I open my mouth to respond, and my phone rings, the sound slicing through the air. With a frown, I release Isabella and stand up. When I reach the nightstand, I fumble in the dark until my fingers close around the metal. I press it to my ear and turn my back on Isabella.
“This better be good.”
“We’ve got a lead on Lilian,” Lorenzo replies in a quiet voice. “We’re chasing it down right now.”
I bend down to retrieve my shirt and pull it over my head. “I need you to look into something else.”
I feel Isabella’s eyes on my back as I leave the room. Downstairs, I drift into the living room and peer through the window. Across the lawn, I can see Tristan in the kitchen, moonlight gleaming off his skin. When I gesture to him, he downs the glass of water in his hand and nods. Then he heads in the direction of the door. A few short minutes later, there’s a soft rap on the kitchen’s backdoor, and I open it to let Tristan in.
Together, we creep into the dining room, and I let the door click shut behind me. I interrupt Lorenzo mid-sentence and hang up. “I need you to look into something for me.”
Tristan shoves his hands into his pockets. “What do you need?”
“Has Rich been found?”
Tristan shakes his head. “Not yet, why?”
I run a hand over my face. “Reach out to Paul’s man on the inside. He’s been cooperative so far. Offer him triple the amount of money to help us find out what happened to Rich.”
Tristan’s expression darkens. “You don’t think that son of a bitch is still alive, do you?”
I frown. “He’s a cockroach, but he’s hurt Isabella enough times, and I want to be sure, especially after…”
Tristan studies my face, his expression growing more and more confused. “The police assumed that he crawled away from the car wreck and bled out somewhere else.”
I press my lips together and don’t say a word. I can’t betray Isabella like that, not when she had a hard enough time telling me. There’s no telling what’ll happen to her if word of this gets out.
I clear my throat. “I just want Isabella to have some peace of mind. She deserves it.”
Since I can’t change the fact that she has blood on her hands, and I can’t exorcise her demons, no matter how much I want to, the least I can do is make sure she knows it wasn’t in vain. Knowing Rich is no longer a threat will help Isabella feel better.
It has to. Because I have no idea how else I can make things better for her.
After discussing a few more things, Tristan leaves the house through the back door. I run into a sleepy, rob-clad Anita on my way up the stairs, and she blinks at me. “Is everything okay? Was that Tristan I just saw running across the lawn?”
I offer Anita a tight smile. “Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”
Anita snorts and waves my comment away. “This is my house. I’ll do what I want.”
With a slight shake of my head, I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I reach the room, Isabella’s whimpers spill out. I push the door open and feel for the knife tucked into my sock. Little particles of silver light dance on the floorboards, but everything else is undisturbed.
