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His fingers slid from her hip, following the waistband of her skirt to the small of her back as she turned and burning a line of fire through her clothes that made it hard for her to breathe, to think. Feeling? Oh that came far too easy when she was with him.
"Nope." He tightened his grip just enough to bring her a few inches closer, enough that she couldn't miss the way his eyes had darkened with desire. "Just someone who recognizes stupid ideas because he's had so many of his own."
Anger sparked. "Leaving isn't stupid." She pressed a hand against his rock-hard chest but made no progress in putting any more air between them.
"Course it is," he said, lazy confidence thick in his voice. "Jarrod has proven he's not giving up. Where are you going to go in the United States that he won't eventually track you down?"
"Who said I'm staying stateside?"
One eyebrow shot up. "Oh, so you want to be a million miles away for when he finally gets a bead on his missing daughter's location. That's an even worse plan."
"He won't find her." She said it like she believed it. She had to. It was the only card she had left to play.
"Yeah, that's what you thought about him finding you."
The words were quiet, said with a soft kindness, but they left her scorched. "So what do you suggest, I give up?"
"Hell no." He shook his head. "What I'm saying is that you use the resources at your disposal to neutralize him."
Jeez, if only she'd thought of that. Too bad she didn't have resources beyond a bag of cash and the ability to take Essie's location to her grave. "Are you volunteering to put a bullet in Jarrod's brain?"
He started, releasing his hold and taking a step back, his moves stiff. "I don't kill people unless there's no other choice."
"Me either, which is too bad because that's what it's going to take to make him stop. That’s why Essie's best option is for me to go so far underground that I don't even make a lump in the dirt." Her voice had risen with each word until she was practically yelling in the pool house's quiet interior, drowning out the soft hum of the air conditioner.
Breathing hard, she stared at Isaac, daring him to tell her she was wrong.
Instead, he laughed. Hard. "A lump in the dirt?" He took a long swig of beer. "That makes no fucking sense."
"Well, not all of us are as good with bullshit cowboy metaphors as you are."
He stepped closer, took her beer so he held both of them in his sure grasp and then sat them down on the end table. "You need to talk to Bianca and the team tomorrow. Together we can come up with a plan."
This again. Didn't he understand? He should. He was the one Taz had turned to for a background check on her after she'd shown up in Fort Worth and tried to extort a million dollars out of him by swearing up, down and sideways that they were still married. Isaac knew how to do his job. There was no way the man hadn't found every skeleton in her walk-in closet—and there were a lot of them, too many. There were people out there who deserved the B-Squad's help to right a wrong, and she wasn't one of them.
"They have no reason to help me."
"They have every reason, but if you can't get that through your thick skull then do it for Essie. Doesn't she at least deserve to have people fight for her?"
Denial. Desperation. Dread. They battled it out inside of her and the only thing she could do to manage it was bring in the cold, the icy indifference that numbed everything. But it wouldn't come. Around Isaac, it so rarely did. So instead she met his fire with some of her own. Worst of all, he was right and she knew it. Belize wasn't going to happen, not until she knew Essie was safe. She couldn't risk being that far away. She needed the B-Squad. Not that this realization made her feel any better. Hell no. It just pissed her off more.
Hands planted on her hips, she glared up at him. "You think you have all the answers don't you?"
"Not even close," he said, his voice as soft as hers had been hard. "But I do know this: running away from bad shit never makes it go away, hiding doesn’t either."
She sank down and half-sat, half-leaned against the back of the couch. "I don't know what else to do."
He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted it upward so she couldn't avoid looking him in the eye. "Let me help you."
Something in her stomach fluttered. Attraction? Hope? Belief? She didn't know. What she did know is that this wasn't how her life went. With only a few exceptions like Amelia and Albert, people didn't help. They were impediments to be avoided and hazards to be guarded against. Anyone who offered help had to have something in it for them. But Isaac didn't—at least nothing she could see—and it confused her as much as it thrilled and scared her.
"You're not going to give up on that are you?" she asked with a sigh.
"I'm always glad to help." His grin was as quick and easy as it was devastating to her panties. "What can I say? I'm a real dick that way."
The angry tension stringing he
r tight evaporated, her answering chuckle genuine. But with every second she and Isaac stayed like that, she became more aware of a different type of tension growing between them. Anticipation made the air heavy, like the sky before the first crack of thunder during a summer storm. His gaze dropped down to her lips, to her cleavage, to the hard tips of her nipples pressing against her thin shirt, then to the apex of her thighs where desire had turned her core slick. She'd been naked before and never felt so exposed. It was totally freeing. What was left for her to hide behind her ice walls if he already knew what she was? She was a bitch. She was an opportunist. She was willing to do whatever it took to get what she needed. He wanted her anyway and God knew she wanted him. Why couldn't they both come out ahead, at least for tonight?
