If he’s hoping Regan will jump in and save him, he’s shit out of luck. She keeps her lips more tightly sealed than mine.
Realizing Regan will never give him the out he seeking, Grayson reveals, “Holt. That’s it. Isaac Holt.” He gifts Regan the smirk he generally uses when he wants the ladies on his side. “Is my Isaac your Isaac?”
“No,” Regan answers without pause, not the slightest bit fazed she has two sets of very dominant, interrogative eyes staring at her. “But I have heard of Isaac Holt. What lady in Ravenshoe hasn’t?” My cheeks inflame with anger when she fans her face as if she’s suddenly hot. “He hasquitethe reputation.” The way her tone dips ensures we can’t mistake what reputation she is referring to.
Grayson laughs, shifting my eyes from glaring at Regan to him. “Sounds like the Isaac I used to know. If you ever see him, be sure to tell him I said hello.”
“Sure,” Regan replies, her tone friendlier than her snarled lips are implying. “Should I refer to you as Grayson, or do you have another alias you’d prefer I use?”
Grayson snaps his eyes to mine, his fury uncontained. Before half the unasked questions streaming from his eyes can reach my ears, Regan tosses a dozen fake IDs onto the coffee table wedged between us. Half belong to Grayson; the rest are mine.
Grayson launches to his feet. “You told her about the frosting canisters? What the fuck, Alex?!”
Ignoring his angry sneer, I step closer to Regan. I’ve got more concerns than his private stash being raided. Regan is looking at me in a way I’ve never wanted. Anger. Betrayal. Disgust. They all filter from her beautifully pained green irises. That far outweighs his need to find a new hidey hole.
Before I can get within touching distance of her, Regan crosses her arms in front of her chest, then locks her eyes with mine. They’re brimming with unbridled fury and a shit ton of hurt. “Is Alex even your real name?”
I nod my head. “Nothing I’ve told you is a lie. My name is Alex Rogers. I was born December 31st. Grayson is my brother. This is the house I grew up in as a child. I’ve never lied to you, Rae. Not in the way you’re thinking.”
Relief washes over Regan’s face when she hears the honesty in my tone. It doesn’t last long. Not even for a second. Her guards are up; her trust is down, and I fucking hate it. “Not in the way I’m thinking? So whatotherways have you lied to me?”
“We’ve discussed this. You know I can’t. . .”
My words trail off when she squeals in frustration, spins on her heels, then reenters The Manor. I take off after her in under a second, only stopping when Grayson fists my shirt. I can see the worry in his eyes, his panic that I’ve let Regan crawl so profoundly under my skin I’m not seeing the entire picture, but I can also see he understands my dilemma.
“You need to tread carefully,” Grayson warns, his tone unlike anything I’ve ever heard. “If your findings are true, you could lose her forever.”
His words sucker-punch me harder than his fists ever could. That’s the last thing I want.
“If the man stalking her is one of us, she’ll think everything was staged. The feelings, the trust, it will all vanish.” He sounds as if he is talking more from experience than conjecture. “When the time is right, you can come clean, but now isnotthe time.”
“She already knows.”
Grayson shakes his head. “No, she doesn’t. She’s running on half-truths—just as you are. Be inventive, Alex, while also doing the job you’re paid to do.”
His riddled reply piques my curiosity—even more so when he releases me from his hold, snags the printout from the coffee table, then enters The Manor without speaking another word.
I stay on the patio for the next several minutes, running my fingers through my hair and pacing back and forth. I want to tell Regan everything, but Grayson’s warning holds some credit. Regan just protected Isaac’s identity, which proves she’s extremely loyal to him.
Although I can’t guarantee that would have been the case if she hadn’t caught me in a lie, I must remain cautious. I know firsthand how hard people fight when they feel as if their backs are against the wall. They fight with everything they have, often forgetting who they are fighting for.
I won’t let that happen to Regan and me. I’ll fight for her with everything I have because I’m used to fighting. Nothing in life ever comes easy for me, so why would I expect love to be any different?
17
Istop shoving clothes into my bag like a madwoman when the creak of a door sounds through my ears. I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic. It’s hard being angry about having your privacy invaded when you did the exact same thing only minutes ago.
I didn’t enter The Manor’s large industrial kitchen with the purpose of tracking down information on Alex, but when I spotted the dozen or so canisters of frosting at the very back of a middle shelf, my inquisitiveness got the better of me.
Mostly.
Somewhat
Not even.
I was spying.
The more annoyed I become about Alex deleting my messages, the more logical my quest for revenge sounded. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but when you’re working off minimal sleep and a brain firing off only two cylinders, even the stupidest ideas seem brilliant.
