Page 66 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

“The vampire who’s trying to frame him.”

“Is that the person who sent him the anonymous note?” Cooper asked.

“How do you know about the note?”

“I found it when I drove Orlando’s Hummer back from the airport. It was in the glove compartment.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s not why I’m here. It’s about Orlando’s past. Isa, you’re not safe with him. He’s a killer.”

She shook her head. “You just said yourself that Orlando has alibis for the two murders.”

“Yes, but I’m not talking about those two murders. I’m talking about the murders in Montreal in 1981.”

“What?” Disbelief rolled through her in massive waves trying to choke off her air supply.

Cooper reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. “Isa, he killed his blood-bonded mate and her entire family. He massacred six people in cold blood.”

“No! Orlando would never do such a thing. Why would you invent something like that? Did my father put you up to this? Did he?”

“No, Samson didn’t put me up to this, but he told me what he and Thomas found when they looked into Orlando’s past.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two sheets of paper and unfolded them. “Here. Read for yourself.”

The pages were in French, which Isabelle was fluent in. She automatically read the headline of the newspaper article, then the first few paragraphs, her heart pounding out of control. The article mentioned a man named Orlando Tremont as the suspect. But it couldn’t be her Orlando, because the man she knew, the man she’d gotten close to in the last three days and nights would have never done such a cruel thing. He wasn’t capable of such a deed.

She was about to shove the article back at Cooper, when she saw the black-and-white picture on the second page. All air rushed out of her lungs, and her heart stopped. Everything blurred in front of her eyes, but even with her diminished vision she recognized the man in the picture: Orlando Carlisle, the man she loved.

“No, no, no…” A sob worked its way up to her throat. “That must have been planted. It can’t be true. Anybody can post a story on the internet…”

“I’m sorry, Isa,” Cooper said softly, his calming tone making everything even worse. “I found dozens of sources, and if I had the tools Thomas has at his disposal, I would have found even more. The story is true. I wish it wasn’t. But Orlando is a killer. And you’re my friend. I’m not going to just stand by and let him hurt you.”

She met Cooper’s look. She saw only kindness and concern in his eyes. And she appreciated the fact that he hadn’t brought a whole contingent of Scanguards men with him to take her back and arrest Orlando.

“It can’t be him,” she murmured. “It’s not possible.” She was reaching for straws now. “Perhaps Dennis LaRuson framed him back then too. Maybe it was him. We have to find him. When we find him, it’ll all sort itself out. Orlando has to be innocent.”

“I’m sorry, Isa. Please, come back with me. Benjamin is waiting downstairs.”

Isabelle took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “I have to talk to him. I need to hear it from his own mouth.”

“He’ll hurt you if you confront him,” Cooper warned. “He’ll lash out.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of Orlando. And she had to hear the truth. She turned around to the door and opened it.

“Keep the door unlocked.”

She hesitated.

“Just in case,” Cooper added. “Please.”

She nodded and walked inside, the newspaper article still in her hand, and pulled the door shut behind her. In the hallway she walked toward the bathroom door, when it suddenly opened.

Orlando, his skin still damp from the shower, stepped out with only a towel slung across his lower half.

“Babe?”

34

Orlando exited the bathroom and found Isabelle standing in the middle of the hallway, fully dressed but barefoot, with a couple of sheets of paper in her hand.