Chapter 4
4
MATT
“ T hat was a great sandwich, Matt.”
As Isla sets her empty plate on the coffee table, she rewards me with a sweet smile that lights up her face. She has color in her cheeks again, and some of the strain around her eyes and mouth is gone. Her hands are steadier, not trembling like they were before, and her gaze isn’t quite as haunted as it was when she got here.
It’s a relief, because for a minute there, I was really worried.
Actually, I was worried already. I have been since she called this afternoon. In the hours between then and now, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Isla, wondering what happened to make her so scared.
Did she see that man again? Did he come after her? Was she hurt?
But then, why wouldn’t the police have helped? Why did Isla say no one believed her? And why is she all alone in this? Doesn’t she have someone to support her?
Why was she so adamant about coming here today, going as far as to risk her own health to do it?
Even though I couldn’t have gone to Dallas today—not without leaving the ranch unprotected, which wasn’t an option—I can’t help feeling guilty. I keep thinking about Isla driving all the way from Dallas to here, alone, tired, scared, and on the verge of collapse, not even taking the time to eat properly.
And then the worst part—when she almost fainted right in front of me. If I hadn’t been there to catch her, Isla could have been seriously hurt. She could have hit her head on the coffee table and suffered a head injury or broken a bone as she crashed to the ground.
I’ve seen a lot of scary things in my lifetime, especially during my time in the Army, but watching as Isla’s face went ghost-white and her gaze went vacant was pretty damn frightening. And holding her limp body in my arms, her head lolling on my shoulder, not knowing if she was okay…
Shit.
If I’d only been able to go to Dallas, she wouldn’t have had to put herself through that.
And I can’t help wondering, what if I’d just called Isla instead of hesitating? Would she have shared her fears with me? Could I have helped before it got to this point?
Fortunately, she seems okay now, though I’d still prefer to have Jade take a look at her. Make sure it was just fatigue or low blood sugar like Isla said, instead of something more serious. But Isla insisted she’d be fine after eating something, and I’m not really in the position to push her to do more.
Still. I’m worried.
How long has she had those bluish shadows under her eyes? How long since she had a good night’s sleep? Days? Weeks? Since the day she was attacked?
And she looks thinner than I remember. Not to the point of gauntness, but there’s a fragility to her that wasn’t there before—her collarbones sharper, and a slight hollowness to her cheeks. Even her wrists seem more delicate and breakable.
Not that she isn’t still beautiful. I thought it when I saw her the first time, and my opinion hasn’t changed. Isla is without question the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
Her heart-shaped face is complimented by full lips with a hint of a curve, like she’s always on the verge of a smile. Dark brows wing up over those gorgeous violet eyes, which on closer inspection, the color definitely looks real. And her hair falls in glossy waves over her shoulders, a rich chestnut shade with hints of copper and bronze running through it. She’s petite, at least eight inches shorter than me, with soft curves that I tried to ignore when I held her.
Yes, I’m more attracted to Isla than I’ve been to a woman in a very long time. And if the circumstances were different, I might even ask her out. But she’s here as a prospective client, a frightened and vulnerable one at that, so my feelings towards her aren’t relevant.
What matters is finding out why she’s here, and if Blade and Arrow can help.
So I set my meandering thoughts aside—I wasn’t kidding when I told Isla about the detours my mind can take—and shift my focus to the purpose of her visit.
Meeting Isla’s gaze, I smile at her as I reply, “I’m glad you liked it. Usually my fridge is pretty empty, but I just placed a grocery order today. I know ham and swiss isn’t exactly gourmet…”
“It was perfect,” she says. “Ham and swiss with mustard is my favorite. And it’s just what I needed. I feel much better now.” Pausing, she turns towards me and touches my hand. “Thank you, Matt. I’m sure this isn’t the typical visit you get from people looking for help. Someone showing up at seven at night, practically fainting on you—” Her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience.”
“You’re not,” I assure her. “In this business, we find that problems often come up at the most unexpected times. That’s one of the reasons we always have a team member on site.”
“And I happened to call when it was your turn?”
“You did.”
“Well…” Her expression softens. “I’m glad you’re the one here. And I’m really glad you agreed to let me come.” A pause, and then, “Matt… I meant what I said over the phone. That I was going to call. It’s just… things got so crazy. Scary.”
Drawing in a breath, I let it out slowly before asking, “Do you feel ready to talk about it? Or do you need more time? I can get you something else to eat, or more water?”
Just like that, Isla’s posture stiffens again. Her hands clutch together, fingers twisting nervously. After a brief pause, she says softly, “No. I’m okay.” Another pause. “And yes. I can talk about it. I’m sorry for taking up?—”
“You’re not.” It’s gently firm. “Trust me, Isla, you’re not keeping me from some exciting activity. If you weren’t here, I’d probably be splitting my time between checking on the security cameras and playing one of my games.”
“Oh?” Her eyes light with interest. “What kind of games?”
Shit. Why did I mention my games? Like she wants to hear about the world I’m building in Minecraft ? Or the newest level I reached in Zelda ?
“Oh, just some computer stuff,” I reply vaguely. “Nothing too thrilling.”
“Okay…” A tiny line forms between her brows. Her teeth bite into her full lower lip, worrying it. “So… I’m not sure where to start.”
As I watch her foot start to jitter, I cast about for a way to reassure her. Usually, when we meet with prospective clients, Dante takes the lead while I sit at my laptop taking notes, only speaking up when there’s a specific detail I need. Dante’s good at calming clients down during an undoubtedly stressful situation—no one likes having to talk about whatever traumatic events brought them here—but I’m at a loss.
“Well.” I grab my tablet off the coffee table and flip the cover open. “I guess we should start with?—”
Shit. Now she’s all pale again.
Switching gears, I say, “How about we start with Blade and Arrow. I know you checked out our website and that tells quite a bit about our company, but maybe it would help if I told you a little more. Would that be okay?”
Surprised relief flickers across her gaze. “Yes. That would be… great. I’d love to know more.”
“Alright.” Adjusting my position on the couch, I turn so I’m facing her. “So, Blade and Arrow Security has two purposes. Half our time is spent working private jobs—setting up security systems, coordinating security for large events, and sometimes providing protection for high-value clients. CEOs, politicians, celebrities…”
Isla’s lips quirk. “People who can afford six former Special Forces with over eighty years of experience?”
Clearly, she did check out our website.
“Exactly. But that’s not why Blade and Arrow was formed. The founder—his name is Cole Mitchell, and I used to serve with him in the same Green Beret battalion—created B and A to help people who have nowhere else to turn. People who don’t have the money to pay for private security, the police won’t help due to lack of evidence, or maybe they just don’t have the connections to get the assistance they need. That’s where we step in. And we provide our services pro-bono. Protection, investigation, even a safe place to stay. We’ll do whatever it takes to help our clients.”
Isla nods, understanding in her eyes. “So you make your money off the rich clients, and take some of it to cover the expenses for the people who can’t afford it.”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s awesome, Matt.” Admiration tinges her voice. “I can see why you’d want to work here. Being able to help people like that.”
My chest warms. “Well, after I left the Army, I still wanted to do something useful. And then Cole asked me about coming to Texas to help start up a new branch of Blade and Arrow Security and it seemed like the perfect solution.”
“It does.” Isla takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. Then she lets it out in a rush. “I think I’m in trouble, Matt. But I went to the police and they said I was lying. That I’m crazy. My parents basically said the same thing.”
And there it is.
Keeping my voice low and soothing, I ask, “What did you go to the police for?”
Her knuckles go white as she twines them together. “I didn’t go right away. At first… I thought maybe I was being paranoid. After that man in the parking lot…” She shudders. “I kept looking for him. Walking to my car after work, going to the grocery store, everywhere, really. I know the police think it was just a random robbery attempt, but I couldn’t help worrying.”
“Of course.” A sliver of guilt wedges deep. It’s just what I was afraid of; poor Isla jumping at shadows and sudden noises, afraid her attacker would come after her again. “It’s understandable to be concerned.”
“That’s what I told myself,” she replies. “When I thought I saw someone following me, I tried to brush it off as a figment of my imagination. Or when I noticed the man in dark clothes lurking around my apartment at night, I tried to convince myself he was just passing by. Or he was a new neighbor I hadn’t met yet.”
I lean forward. “You thought someone was following you?”
“Yes.” Isla’s gaze holds mine. “For the first couple of days after the attack in the parking lot, I thought I saw a car following me home from work. But when I’d turn into my apartment complex, it would keep going. And then once when I stopped to get groceries, the same car followed me from the store all the way home.”
She pauses. “I know how it sounds. Like a coincidence. But I just had this ominous feeling. In my gut. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” I agree. “I’ve had plenty of gut feelings before. And usually, they’re not wrong.”
Her shoulders sag. “When I said that to the police, they looked at me like I was insane. And then they told me they couldn’t waste their time on silly hunches. That they deal with facts and not feelings. But I know that. I was just trying to explain how it started.”
My jaw clenches. What kind of asshole cops would say that to a woman who’s clearly scared? Who’s come to them for help?
“I didn’t go to the police until…” Isla pauses as she thinks. “Four days after what happened in the parking lot. I had installed a new security camera outside my apartment, kind of tucked out of sight above the front door. I woke up to the motion sensor going off, and when I looked at the camera, I saw a man trying to pick the lock.”
Shit .
My inner alarm bells are jangling again.
Trying not to show my concern, I keep my tone even as I ask, “So you went to the police after that?”
“I called 911,” she answers. “But by the time the police arrived, the guy was gone. And somehow…” Another shudder runs through her body. “When I went to show them the security footage, it was gone. Just gone . I saw him, Matt. I wasn’t imagining things.”
Her voice is pitching up as she talks, and there’s a watery sheen to her eyes. My hand twitches towards hers, instinct demanding I comfort her, but I hold myself back. Instead, I scribble some notes on my tablet, reminders to look at her security camera and see about the possibility of it being hacked.
“I’m sure you weren’t,” I assure her. “But I can look into it. Check your archived footage, see if anything got deleted.”
Gratitude fills her eyes as she looks at me. “You don’t think I was imagining things?”
“No, I don’t. If you say you saw a man at your door, I believe you.”
Isla gives me a shaky smile. “Then you’re the first one.” She pauses. “Well, my best friend Rory does. But she’s in Vermont, and she can’t really—” Another pause. “Anyway. Once the police saw there was nothing on the security camera, and then they realized I had been attacked not long before… they just wrote it off as paranoia.”
She leans over to grab her glass and takes a sip before continuing, “But after that, I kept having that same awful feeling. And things kept happening. The motion sensors would go off, but there was nothing on the cameras. I’d look outside and see a car parked right in front of my apartment, with the headlights off, just idling.”
“And you went to the police again?”
“I did.” Her hand trembles as she puts her glass back down on the coffee table, the glass clattering against the ceramic coaster beneath it. “After everything got really bad.”
Really bad? Worse than being followed and someone trying to break into her apartment, possibly hacking her security system to do so?
Although. Just seeing what Jade, Lucy, and Sarah went through, I know the terrible truth of just how bad things can get.
Isla lifts her chin as she meets my gaze, almost as if she’s bracing for inevitable rejection. “This is the part… I know it’s going to sound like I’m making it up. But I’m not.”
“I don’t think that.”
“You might.” It’s flat. Almost despairing. She takes another deep breath. “Five days ago, a man tried to grab me when I was coming home from work. It was late, and I was… distracted. I’d been trying to be careful. Never walking alone, parking close to the entrance, stuff like that, you know?”
“I do know,” I reply gently, though my chest is tight with anxiety. She was almost taken? Outside her apartment? And for some insane reason, the police didn’t believe her?
“I was walking from my car to the apartment. It was dark; I was later than usual because I’d stopped at the store. And then this man… he just came out of nowhere. Grabbed my arm. And he had this fabric in his hand. I didn’t think then, but maybe it was drugged? I don’t know.”
Through a gritted jaw, I ask, “And what happened then?”
A grimly satisfied smile lifts her lips. “I used my pepper spray. And the little horn I keep on my keychain. I don’t think he was expecting me to fight back. But the noise and the spray gave me a chance to escape.”
“Shit.” The curse slips out, low and rough. “Were you hurt, Isla? Are you okay?”
“Just some bruises on my arm. I was more scared than anything. But I went to the police again after that.”
“And?”
“I told them everything.” Her gaze dips to her lap. “And that’s when they called me a liar. They threatened to bring me up on charges of false accusations. They said I was wasting their time. That I was making up stories to avoid taking responsibility for my actions.”
“What?”
Isla looks back up at me, her twilight eyes drenched with misery. “I told them about the cars and the people outside. And the man grabbing me. But when I told them…”
Her voice cracks. Tears well up. “I found out a week ago. I’m… I’m pregnant.”
What?
The rest of her words come out in a rush. “I’d been feeling sick. Nauseous. But I never imagined… When I went to the doctor, she made me take a test. But I don’t know how it happened. I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. Not even a date. I’ve gone through the last two months over and over, and I can’t think of anything. But I took five tests and they’re all positive.”
Tears are running down her cheeks as she continues, “That’s why the police thought I was lying. They said I got pregnant and didn’t want to take responsibility. The social worker suggested counseling. Or adoption. But I know I wasn’t with anyone, Matt. I know it.”
This is so far from anything I was expecting to hear, I’m shocked into silence for a second.
“I’m not saying it’s the immaculate conception,” Isla adds, sniffing back tears. “I don’t think that. But I just don’t know how… And with everything else going on. It just seems like it has to be connected.” Then in an achingly tiny voice, “I’m scared. And I’m not sure what to do.”
Ah, shit. There are plenty of possible answers to this, and none of them are good.
“I have to ask some questions that aren’t going to be very nice,” I finally say. “And I’m sorry. But I have to ask.”
Isla nods miserably. “I know. But Matt, I’ve thought it all through. I haven’t even been someplace where my drink could be drugged. The most I do is go for one drink after work, and I go home right after. Alone. I haven’t stayed in a hotel, haven’t had surgery, not even the dentist. I live by myself. There just isn’t any way I can think of this happening. But I’m not making it up. I swear. I wish I was. It would be better than this… screwed up Lifetime movie plot come to life.”
“A what?”
“Lifetime movies? You know—” She stops. “Nevermind. I don’t think guys watch them. But my point is, it’s messed up.” A sob slips out. “And I wish like anything this was all in my imagination.”
My heart twists.
How can I sit here and watch her cry without offering some sort of comfort?
Although instinct urges me to pull her into my arms, I settle for covering her hand with mine, instead. “It’s going to be okay, Isla. We’ll figure this out.”
Her hand stiffens. Her eyes flicker to mine in surprise.
A second later, she squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go. “You believe me?”
Do I?
Am I just being swayed by her gorgeous eyes and her sweet vulnerability? If it were any of my teammates in this situation, I know that’s what I’d ask.
But I really don’t think so. My gut tells me she’s telling the truth. And that she’s desperately in need of our help.
“I believe you,” I tell her. “And I want to help.”
Shit. Except I can’t make an arbitrary decision like that. No matter how much I want to help Isla, I have to run it by the team. We have to make a decision as a group whether to take her on as a client or not.
Do I think they’ll all agree with me? Yes. With a team as close as ours, if anyone feels strongly about accepting a case, it’s likely everyone else will go along with it. But I can’t commit without at least having the conversation first.
So it’s with a sick feeling in my stomach that I have to add, “But I have to run this by the rest of the team, first. It’s just what we do. That doesn’t mean I don’t think they’ll agree to take you on?—”
“I get it.” Swallowing hard, she nods. “There are six of you. Of course, you need to discuss it first.”
“Dante and Erik will be back in a couple of hours,” I reply quickly. “And considering the urgency of your case, we’ll meet to discuss it first thing in the morning. Have the rest of the team call into the meeting. So I should have an answer for you tomorrow. I know it’s not ideal. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s alright.” Isla shifts on the couch, moving the tiniest bit closer to me. Her knees brush mine, settling off a little flare of heat across my skin.
No. It’s not the time.
Not only is Isla in trouble and a potential client, she’s also pregnant. Not just pregnant, but she doesn’t know how it happened. She needs someone to protect her. That’s all.
But as much as I try to tamp down my attraction towards her, it’s near impossible.
“I wasn’t expecting you to give me an answer tonight,” she adds. “Well. Maybe I was hoping. But it makes sense.”
She looks so sad. Discouraged. And so damn vulnerable.
“You could stay here tonight,” I offer. “So you can meet Dante and Erik in the morning. And once we have our meeting, we can let you know right away. We have an apartment here that we use for clients. It’s fully furnished, so you could stay there.”
“Oh, Matt.” With her free hand, she brushes at the dampness on her cheeks. Her other hand is still wrapped around mine. “I wish I could. But I have work in the morning. It’s a new job and I haven’t started earning PTO yet, so I really have to go. Especially with everything… I need money. Insurance.”
Dammit. The absolute last thing I want is for Isla to drive all the way home in the dark, arriving home well after midnight.
“It’s late,” I protest. “By the time you get on the road, it’ll be almost nine. What if something—” My mouth slams shut with an audible snap. Do I really want to scare her any more than she is already?
“I know. But I don’t have a choice. I already missed work two weeks ago. But I’ll be careful. I’ll park right by my front door and have my phone ready to dial 911. Plus, I got more pepper spray.” Her lips lift in a wobbly smile. “So I should be okay.”
Shit.
This feels very wrong.
I don’t want her to go. But I can’t make her stay.
Without thinking, I rub my thumb across her chilled hand to warm it. “Will you call me? Every half hour? Just so I know you’re okay? And once you get home, too?”
She stares at me with an unreadable expression on her face. “You really want me to?”
“Yes.” Shit. My ears go hot. Was that horribly presumptuous? Asking her to call me like we’re dating instead of two people who barely know each other?
Except it doesn’t feel that way.
And the thought of Isla all alone makes me feel sick inside.
“I mean,” I amend, “if you don’t mind. But if it’s asking too much…”
Her tight smile softens to a more genuine one. “It’s not. I would feel a lot better, honestly. If you’re sure I won’t keep you up? Because it’ll be pretty late?—”
As if I could sleep without knowing she’s safe?
Before I can stop myself, I give her the unvarnished truth. “Isla. There’s no way I’m sleeping until I know you’re home. And safe. In fact, I’m going to send you with extra pepper spray. And some special door alarms you can set up; you don’t have to install them, just push them against the door. Plus, I have these bars you can set in your windows to keep anyone from opening them. It might take a few minutes to set everything up once you get back, but if you’re not sure how to do it, just call me and I can walk you through it.”
As I finish speaking, I belatedly realize I just took presumptuous to a new level. My cheeks warm. “Sorry,” I start. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Matt.” She moves another inch closer, her knees bumping into mine again. Her voice throbs with emotion. “Thank you. For protecting me in the parking lot. For letting me come tonight. For listening. Believing me. Offering to help. And all those things you mentioned, I would love to use all of them. Just… thanks. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“But I want to.” Her other hand comes to rest on mine. “Coming here is the first time I’ve felt safe in weeks. And I know you can’t make any guarantees, but it’s the first time I’ve felt hopeful, too. That’s because of you.”
Oh.
No matter what the team decides, there’s no way I’m letting this go. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.