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“I don’t plan on being here long, Isabel. Give me a couple of days and I’ll be out of your hair. You won’t ever see me again.”
“I don’t recall telling you that you had to leave,” she said, her husky voice soft and low. She angled her head to the side and the firelight played off the stubborn line of her jaw.
Oh, yeah. She was pissed, alright.
“Somehow, I don’t see you being pleased about me being here.” He took another long pull of his beer, staring out over the night-dark ocean. It was either that or stare at her, feast on her while he could. Fuck, she was so beautiful. Seeing her filled a hole in him even as it cut gouges into his heart and soul. He’d missed her so much. Every fucking day for the past fourteen years, until missing her was just part of who he was, just like loving her. He didn’t know who he was without that love, without that need. Without that longing.
But he also didn’t have the right to sit here and stare, bask in the very warmth of her.
So he’d heal up a day or two, catch a few more glimpses, because fuck if he was that strong to go without them while she was so close ... and then he’d leave.
“I honestly haven’t decided how I feel about you being here.”
Those words were so unexpected that he jerked his head around to gape, caught off guard.
It was hard to shock him.
He’d seen so much filth in his life. Even before he’d started working for Miles, he’d seen his share of users—you couldn’t be related to something as famous as his older brother Zach had been andnotsee users and takers. Then his years working to ferret out secrets related to some of the worst monsters imaginable, people who’d sell their own family for a quick buck ...
Yeah, it took something to shock him.
But looking into Isabel’s gaze, he was at a loss for words.
She leaned closer, the heavy fringe of her lashes lowering to shield her eyes so only a thin rim of her irises showed.
“Travis ... ”
His voice came out tight and strained as he asked, “What?”
One hand braced on the arm of the chair where he sat as she closed yet more distance, her eyes so close, watching him intently. “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
Her lashes drifted down a bit lower, then swept back up. “Are you working for Miles?”
For maybe five seconds, the question made no sense.
Then he shoved out of the chair. Even as he did it, he realized how fucking stupid an action that was and he huffed out a laugh. “Working for Miles? Doing what?”
It wasn’t a bad cover. He didn’t sound strained or stressed.
And maybe if it hadn’t been for his abrupt lurching out of the chair—which had the wound in his side pulling like abitch—he would have gotten away with it.
But as he turned to face her, he saw the dawning fury in her eyes and he knew she didn’t believe him.
Isabel strode to him and shoved him.
“Youare,” she said, the words low and furious. “Damn it,why?”
She shoved him again when he didn’t answer. He caught her wrists. He’d take out whatever abuse she wanted to give him, except she was strong as hell and he was still recovering from a bad infection—if she kept it up, she just might shove him on his ass, and he didn’t want her feeling guilty over that. And she would.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, lying because what the hell else was he going to do? “I do accounting work, Iz. When I bother to work at all.”
“Bullshit.” She wrenched her hands free—it wasn’t hard. He’d never force anything on her, even though letting her go ripped a piece out of him. But once he was no longer touching her, she reached up and drove a finger into his chest. “You’re no more an accountant thanIam.”
“I graduated top of my class from Berkeley,” he said mildly. “Two years early.”
He didn’t mention his other major—criminal justice, because it wouldn’t help him here. She already knew he’d graduated early from high school, the same as Trey, although Travis could have finished high school two or three years sooner if he’d wanted. But he hadn’t—leaving Trey behind just wasn’t an option.
