The Red Ledger Part 1

Chapter 5

TRISTAN

A small click and the pelt of rain against the windows are the only sounds as I enter the room. Isabel is asleep. Her body lies diagonally on the bare bed. The satin bedspread and sheets have been kicked to the floor. Suspended by the restraints, her arms are stretched above her, obscuring her face.

I switch on the lamp beside the couch. The tray of dishes remains untouched, and I'm momentarily grateful Karina didn't return for them while I was gone. Isabel would have begged to be freed, unknowing that Karina is also Mateus's lover and would never betray him.

I circle the bed without a sound, gaining a better view of Isabel's face. Dried tears streak her cheeks. Her lips and eyes are puffy. I don't enjoy the misery that's only just begun for her. She's trapped here, but so am I.

Every hour that passes with her in my world awakens compassion I didn't know I possessed. I resent her for it, even if I can't deny it.

I retrieve a knife from my pocket and cut through the plastic bonds. Her eyes open wide. She scrambles away from me the second she's free enough to move. She glances around the room and then down at her wrists, which are red and will likely bruise by morning. She rubs them but says nothing.

"I'm sorry," I finally say.

She laughs roughly. "You're sorry?"

"If you understood the danger we're in, you'd know leaving here without me is impossible."

She swallows but doesn't meet my eyes. "If you explained why we're in danger, maybe I wouldn't have wanted to leave."

I reach for her, but she flinches back. She slides her stormy gaze to mine. Slowly, I take her hand, tracing the grooves at her wrist with my thumb.

I slide my hand into hers. I don't know why I do it. But the contact, palm to palm, sends a shockwave over my nerves. It's not the vague familiarity I've experienced before with her. It's something more...something primal...deeper.

Her gaze settles there. Her lips part, as if she feels it too.

"You have something valuable of mine," I say. "I have to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself sometimes. You'll have to forgive me because I'm not in the business of protecting anyone. You'll just have to learn to trust me."

She doesn't show acceptance in any way. She only stares at me. The mix of concern and devotion passing over her features is troubling, making me feel like a stranger in my own skin.

Exhaustion tugs at my body. Knowing she could run, or worse, will make it difficult to drift off, but the thought of lying down beside her promises something soothing.

"Come on. Let's get some sleep."

I get up and replace the blankets on the bed. I kick off my shoes and untuck my gun, placing it on the bedside table nearest to me. I hear Isabel's sharp intake of breath before I catch the fear in her eyes.

"For protection," I say, reassuring her. And myself.

I take life day by day, hour by hour. Everything could change tomorrow. But right now, she's safe with me.

* * *

I move around the tiny kitchen. She'll be home soon, and I'll have food ready for her before I head to school. She's been working all night.

That's when I hear it. Gunshots. The familiar sound freezes me in place. My heart stops beating. They're too close.

I fly to the door. Her car is parked in her usual spot, a few spaces down from the entrance to the house. The driver's-side door is wide open, but she's not getting out.