The Red Ledger Part 1

Chapter 3

ISABEL

Tristan's voice is like cold velvet—rich with texture, void of feeling. I'm a trembling mess, but his eyes are calm.

He's bigger than I remember. His clothes hint at the solid muscular frame beneath. He's changed, but I'd know him anywhere. Those piercing eyes, opalescent blue orbs that I could stare into for the rest of my life. His hair is the same dark brown, short and unstyled. Stubble lines his jaw, making the ridges of his full lips stand out. Worry lines crease his forehead and the edges of his eyes.

We've grown. We're not the same.

A thousand thoughts blur together as I convince myself he's not a dream. No longer just a memory.

He's Tristan Stone. The love of my life.

He takes a step back, and the separation borders on painful.

Instinct drives me next. My fingers become ten tiny magnets. I reach for him, drawn to his flesh, determined to prove he's not an apparition. Before I can make contact, he takes my wrists in a firm grasp, holding them immobile in the horrible empty space between us. Those few inches are made up of years of missing him. Of not knowing if he was alive or dead.

"You're looking at me like you hardly know me." I choke on the last word because every emotion is tearing its way up my throat.

His expression never changes. He's unreadable. "I know who you are, Isabel."

I let go of the fight in my muscles, feeling foolish and broken all over again. He doesn't love me anymore. I'm so far in the past, how could he have possibly hung on to those feelings like I have?

"We should go," he says, releasing his hold on me.

I drop my hands to my sides, confused and reeling from everything that's happening between us. True enough, this alley isn't the safest place for a reunion.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Your place. I'm parked nearby. I'll drive us."

I swallow my doubts and follow him down the alley to the congested street. He tugs me behind him until we get to his car. He opens the passenger door and shuts it after me without ceremony.

Seconds later, Tristan is whipping through the streets. I can't imagine the reason for his urgency.

"How long have you been in Rio?"

"A while." He glances into the rearview mirror, seeming distracted.

I nod and try to ignore the sting of his tone. I remember a gentler Tristan. Always tuned in to my feelings and needs. The man I met in the street is frighteningly intense and completely unreadable.

He stops at the end of my street, puts the car in park, and turns to me.

"How do you know where I live?" My heart starts racing again at this new revelation.

"There's no time to talk. Not here. I need you to pack a bag for a few days away," he says.

"A few days? I can't just leave with you. I have a job." I can no longer hide the panic in my voice.

He stares at me silently for a moment and then speaks slowly and calmly. "I know it doesn't make sense. I have a friend outside the city. We'll stay with him, and I can explain everything there."

I blink slowly, trying to process his proposal. "Then we'll come back?"

He nods wordlessly. I don't completely believe him, but I'm not willing to let him disappear again so soon.