Chapter 6
6
MATT
“ S o, how is she holding up?”
Dante looks at me from the right corner of my screen, one of five video feeds displaying my fellow teammates. Beside him are Xavier and Rhiannon, and just beneath, Niall and Erik. They all wear matching expressions of concern as they wait for my answer.
“As best she can,” I reply, making sure to pitch my voice low. Isla’s in her bedroom napping, but the door is half-open, and I don’t want to risk waking her. It would be quieter if I closed her door while I meet with the team, but security-wise, it’s not the best option. This way I can hear if there’s a problem, and from my position at the dining room table, if I crane my head the right way, I can see into her room to make sure she’s okay.
“Do you think she needs to see a doctor?” Dante asks. “Given that she’s pregnant, and with all the stress…”
Catching a slight movement from the bedroom out of the corner of my eye, I hold up one finger to the camera before getting up from my chair to check on her. Once I get to the doorway and peer inside, the knot of worry in my chest unclenches. She’s still fast asleep, sheets tangled between her legs, her hair spilling across one pillow while she clutches another to her chest. As I’m watching, she hugs the pillow tighter and makes a low moaning sound, but she doesn’t wake up.
My chest squeezes. I can only imagine what she’s dreaming about. Nothing good, I’m sure. Just one terrible event after another. And that’s not even counting the things she may not remember.
I watch her for another few seconds before returning to my computer. “Sorry. I saw something in Isla’s bedroom and wanted to check on her. But she’s fine. Just napping. I finally convinced her to get some sleep once Hawk left.”
From the left top corner, Rhiannon stiffens. “Is he doing alright? Hawk?” She pauses, her brows pulling into a V. “Last time I heard from him, he was still risking his life on that fishing boat in Alaska.”
“He’s on a month-long break,” I answer. “He just flew in to Dallas two days ago to visit his sister. So it was a lucky break he was available to help.”
“Definitely,” Xavier says. He scowls as he adds, “Especially considering how useless the police have been.”
I lift my chin at him. “I’d agree. From what Hawk said about the visit last night, they were worse than useless. Condescending, dismissive… the same treatment she got before.” As anger bubbles up, I take a steadying breath to settle it. “But to answer your question about a doctor, Isla said she feels okay and doesn't want to go.”
Dante frowns. “What do you think?”
I cast another quick glance at her bedroom door. “I think she should see a doctor. But I’m not going to push her today. It’s too soon. Unless there’s something really alarming, and then I’ll take her to the hospital whether she wants to go or not.”
“Regarding Isla’s condition,” Dante says. “I’m thinking it would be best to have myself or Rhiannon come to Dallas to help. With our medical training, if there is a problem, we’ll be right there to assess.”
“Nothing against you, Dante,” Rhiannon interjects, “But I think it might be better if I go. I don’t know Isla, but she may feel more comfortable talking to a woman. Especially about pregnancy-related issues.”
Dante nods. “I agree. If you don’t mind going, Rhi? I know you’re due some days off once you get back tomorrow.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” Compassion softens her features. “I can’t even imagine how scared Isla must be. So if I can help in any way, I will.”
“She’s scared, but honestly, I’m shocked at how well she’s handling things,” I say. “I mean, she made that drive by herself, both ways, when she had to be terrified to do it. She kept it together last night, did just what I asked her to without panicking. And if you talk to her… you’d be amazed. With everything that’s going on, she’s still thoughtful and nice and funny…”
Trailing off, I notice more than a few raised eyebrows on the screen. “What?” I ask, a hint of defense in my tone. “She’s a really interesting person. That’s all I’m saying.”
Niall coughs quietly.
“Well.” Dante lifts his chin. “Now that we’ve settled that. Since Rhi can’t make it there for another two days, that leaves Erik or myself to come out today to join you. I can?—”
“I can go,” Erik offers quickly. “Dante. You just got back. I’m sure Sarah would like to spend some time with you. I don’t mind going to Dallas to help.”
“Are you sure, Erik?”
“Absolutely. I have to stop at the community center for an hour or so this afternoon, but I can leave right after. So I should get into Dallas around six or seven, depending on the traffic.”
Dante shoots Erik a grateful smile. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Erik waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“So you’ll have Erik tonight and Rhi on Friday,” Dante says as he looks in my direction. “Do you need anything else? More security gear? Weapons?”
“I grabbed a lot when I was on my way here. So the apartment is pretty well set with alarms and security cameras. And I have my laptop, my Sig… Maybe you could bring my backup laptop. And an extra monitor.”
Erik lifts his chin. “Can do.” After a beat, he asks, “So you think someone’s hacking into her security system?”
My response is immediate. “I do. Isla did the right thing, setting up a doorbell camera and a secondary one on the porch above her front door. But the cameras are only hooked up to basic Wi-Fi; it would be easy enough for someone with decent skills to bypass it.”
In the lull of conversation, I hear a soft rustling coming from Isla’s bedroom. A quick look shows her stirring in bed, and a second later, she sits up and grabs her phone off the nightstand to look at it.
“She’s up,” I report quietly. “I’m going to try to get her to eat something.”
“Sounds good.” Dante’s gaze moves from one teammate to the next, finally landing on me. “Call if you need anything. Okay?”
“I will. Thanks.” Just as I’m about to end the video call, another thought strikes me. “Hey, Niall.”
His eyebrows arch up in question. “What’s up?”
“Can you ask Jade what’s good for a pregnant woman to eat? I want to make sure I’m not cooking something that’s bad for Isla or the baby.”
Just the mention of his pregnant wife brings a smile to Niall’s face. “Of course. I’ll ask her to text you. But I know some stuff that they’re not supposed to eat. Soft cheeses, like mozzarella and ricotta. Most fish. Anything unpasteurized. And not too much sugar. There are more things, but I can’t remember.”
Oh. “Um. Okay.”
“It’s not that bad,” Niall adds. “But I’ll have Jade send you some of her favorite recipes.”
But once the call ends, I’m left wondering. And feeling more than a little nervous.
Running ops in Afghanistan, facing off against insurgents that outnumber us ten to one? I can do that without losing a beat. Running covert surveillance in the middle of enemy territory, when one wrong move could end in our discovery? That, I can handle.
But this is different. Isla’s different.
And she’s pregnant. Not that you could tell she is, so I assume she’s not too far along. Still, she needs more than just someone to protect her. She needs someone to make sure she’s eating alright. That she’s not too stressed. To make sure she’s seeing a doctor when she needs to and shit—I don’t know. Lots of stuff a typical client wouldn’t need.
Yes, I know Isla’s a grown adult. Thirty-three is what she told me the first day we met. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure she’d be perfectly capable of handling everything herself. But this isn’t normal. And I want to help. I’m just not sure how good of a job I’ll do.
“Matt?”
As I startle—some Special Forces operator I am, not even noticing when my client comes into the room—I almost knock over my bottle of water, snatching it up at the last second. “Shit. Sorry.”
Isla hovers in the entrance to the living room, her cheeks flushed from sleep, her hair in tangled waves falling over her shoulders and down her back. She gives me a tentative smile and asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Definitely. Sorry. I didn’t mean… I just didn’t hear… Are you okay? Did you sleep alright? Do you need anything?”
She takes a few steps towards me, and I’d have to be literally blind not to notice how her shorts show off her toned legs and the way her oversized shirt slips down over one slender shoulder. “I’m fine. Actually, I feel a lot better now that I’ve gotten some sleep. And I was just thinking about making something to eat. I’m a little low on groceries, but?—”
I jump up from my seat. “I can make something. You should relax. Get some rest on the couch. Watch something on TV. Just… you know. Take it easy. While I cook lunch. I was talking to Niall, he’s one of my teammates, and his wife is pregnant. So he was telling me foods that aren’t healthy to eat. Soft cheeses. Fish. So I’m not sure what to make, but I’ll look it up.”
What is wrong with me? Why am I babbling like I’ve never spoken to a woman before?
Isla stares at me for a few seconds. Then her lips twitch.
“Shi—shoot.” My ears warm. “Sorry. That was a lot of words. A more concise way of saying that should have been, I can cook lunch while you rest. Would that be okay?”
“Matt.” She smiles. “I knew what you meant. But I don’t think I need any more rest for now.” Pausing, her eyes crinkle around the corners as she adds, “Maybe we can figure out something to cook together?”
A weight on my chest lifts. “That sounds like a great idea.”
Ten minutes later, we’re side by side in the kitchen, Isla making up chicken salad for sandwiches while I slice carrots and celery to go on the side. Her movements are quick and natural as she mixes together ingredients I would never have thought of—dill and basil and Greek yogurt and a squeeze of lemon.
Once she finishes the salad, she grabs a head of lettuce and plucks off some leaves, then rinses them in the sink and leaves them on a paper towel to dry. After that comes a crusty loaf of some sort of bakery-baked bread, much different in appearance from the usual white bread I buy at the grocery store.
Lucy would be impressed.
I bet Lucy would like Isla. Bubbly Lucy would know just the right things to say to make Isla feel better. Fifteen minutes together and I bet they’d be chatting like old friends. But instead, Isla’s stuck with me, a subpar cook who seems to say the wrong thing more often than not.
As Isla slices the bread into thick slices, she glances over at me and raises her brows. “Did I add something you don’t like? Sorry. I didn’t even think to ask before I threw everything together, I make this recipe so often. But if you don’t care for yogurt, or dill…”
“No, no. It looks great.” Setting my knife aside, I turn to face her. “I was intrigued by all the things you added. Last time I made chicken salad, I used exactly two ingredients.”
Isla grins. “Mayonnaise and chicken?”
“Yup.” My own lips curve up. “Not even salt or pepper. Just canned chicken and mayonnaise. On white bread. So you can imagine why I’m impressed.”
Her attention still on me, she starts spreading the chicken salad on two slices of bread. “I’m not sure if I’d consider chicken salad impressive, but it’s something I make a lot.” Gesturing at the carton of Greek yogurt, she explains, “Using this makes it healthier than straight mayonnaise. And the lemon gives it a bit of a tang. I just like dill, so I always add it…” Trailing off, her cheeks go pink. “I’m sure you didn’t want to hear all that.”
“I did. I do.” Pausing, I gather up the spears of carrot and celery and split them up on the two plates Isla pulled from the cabinet. “My cooking skills are pretty sad. So it’s interesting. And my friend Lucy, she’s Xavier’s wife, she likes to tease me about it. So I’m going to try making these sandwiches to show off.”
Her face brightens. “I can write the recipe down, then. It’s really easy.”
Chuckling, I reply, “Well. You haven’t really seen me cook. Cutting up vegetables doesn’t count.”
“I liked the sandwich you made last night,” she retorts with a smile. “So I think you’re not doing too badly.” Her smile dims. “I had to cook a lot when I was growing up. So I kind of had to get good at it. My parents?—”
With a tiny grimace, her lips press together. A tiny line forms between her eyes. Her gaze shifts to the sandwiches in front of her as she neatly adds the leaves of lettuce to them.
Shit. I remember her mentioning how her parents refused to help, so I think it’s a safe assumption their relationship isn’t the best. I don’t want Isla to have another bad thing to think about, so I quickly change the subject. “So. What do you like to do in your free time?”
Her hands still for a second. A beat later, some of the tension smooths out of her features. She looks back at me, a hint of laughter in her eyes. “Nice subject change.”
My ears heat. “I was trying. Not very well, apparently.”
“No, you did.” With a wry smile, she adds, “I don’t have the best relationship with my parents. But I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get into that. When your teammates get here?”
“Yes.” Isla grabs one plate and hands it to me before taking the other. As we walk over to the kitchen table, I explain, “We were talking about it while you were napping. Erik will be here tonight, and Rhiannon will arrive on Friday. So you’ll have the three of us directly working on your case. Of course, if something comes up and we need added support, the rest of the team will jump in to help.”
“Okay.” She slides into her seat and picks up a carrot, tapping it on her plate as she thinks. “So… what’s the plan?”
And here I was thinking she wouldn’t want to get into it right away. That she’d want some time to rest. Decompress. But it’s just another sign of how strong Isla is.
“Well. I thought we’d wait until Erik gets here and go through more questions then. Really get into all the information I need to start the investigation. And with three of us here, there will always be one person escorting you wherever you need to go and standing guard while you’re at work, someone monitoring surveillance, plus all the research, of course.”
“And you do that? Hawk mentioned you’re the computer whiz of the team.”
“I do.”
Isla takes a bite of her carrot, pausing to swallow before asking, “So you do all the protection stuff and lead the investigative part of the cases?” Admiration tinges her voice. “That’s pretty awesome, Matt.”
“Oh. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Her eyebrows jump up. “I don’t know tons about Green Berets, but from what I do know, it’s a really hard job. Dangerous. And on top of that, you learned how to do all this hacking stuff?”
Taking a bite of my sandwich, I hesitate for a few seconds before responding. “I’ve always liked computers. First it was just video games, and then I got into programming. I had this amazing computer teacher in high school, and he taught me a lot. Then I just sort of went off to learn more on my own.”
“So when you mentioned games last night, you were talking about video games?”
“Yes.” Bracing myself for the inevitable look of disappointment I usually get when I tell a woman about my interests, I explain, “In my free time, I like to play video games. RPGs, 3D sandbox games, sometimes a first-person shooter like Call of Duty , if one of my teammates wants to play. I mostly play at night, when I’m not on a job, you know?”
And now she knows I have no social life aside from my team and video games in my apartment. Great.
Isla’s gaze softens. “I think that sounds fun. I tried Minecraft on my phone and it seemed interesting, but it was kind of hard to do much with it.”
“Oh, playing on a PC is much better. Bigger screen of course, and more options to customize the playing experience. If you want to see, I can show you?—”
Shit. Why in the world would Isla care about my video games right now?
“That would be really nice, Matt.” Leaning forward, she rests her hands on the table. “With everything so messed up… I’m trying not to totally panic. But it’s hard.”
“Of course it is.”
“So I wouldn’t mind something else to distract me. And if you don’t mind showing me how to play…”
“Of course not. I could take you through the basics while we wait for Erik to get here.”
A smile curves her lips. “That would be great.” A beat, and then, “You asked me what I like to do in my spare time. I like to read mysteries, and sometimes I watch HGTV or Discovery before bed. But what I really like to do is build models.”
My voice pitches up with surprise. “Models? Like ships and trains?”
“No. Like little houses. Rooms. You can buy these sets to make miniature replicas of bookstores and libraries and greenhouses—stuff like that.” She gestures at a bookshelf across the room. “I have some of them over there. But this place is a lot smaller than where I used to live, so I have to keep most of them boxed up in the closet.”
“Oh, wow.” I noticed the little rooms on the shelf earlier, but I had no idea Isla made them. “Those are amazing.”
“Thanks. I know it’s not a cool hobby, like rock climbing or hiking, but I like it.”
I snort with laughter. “Like playing video games is cool? I’m forty, Isla. Most people think I’m decades too old for playing them, let alone collecting.”
Her eyes light with interest. “Collecting?”
Previous times I’ve shared this kind of stuff with anyone aside from my teammates and their partners, I’ve received humoring looks or outright disbelief. Like the woman I went on one date with six months ago, whose response when I told her was, “But you look so normal.”
But I don’t get the feeling Isla will react the same way. “I collect vintage video games. Mostly from the eighties and nineties. That’s actually why I was outside your office building that day. Our job in Dallas was done, and I wanted to check out a video game store that was nearby. So I was cutting through the parking lot to get there, and that’s when I saw you.”
There’s a long silence, long enough for me to worry I screwed things up. We were having a nice conversation, and I managed to swing it back around to one of Isla’s traumatic experiences.
But before I can apologize, she asks, “Did you ever get to go there? To the store?”
“No. I was on the way.” As her forehead creases, I reach across the table and lightly touch her hand. “But I don’t care about the store. Or the games. I’m just glad I was there when you needed me.”
Isla looks at me with those brilliant amethyst eyes, emotion swimming within. “I’m glad you were there, too.” Her fingers brush mine. “And I’m really glad you’re here now.”
My heart rolls over. Squeezes.
No. She’s a client. I have no business thinking about her any other way.
But I’m still damn glad she called me.