Chapter 18
18
MATT
“ W hen are you going to ask her to move in?”
I jerk my gaze from the curtains to look over at Erik. “What are you talking about? She lives at Blade and Arrow.”
He flashes me a shit-eating grin. “Don’t be purposefully obtuse. You know what I mean.”
That’s something I like about working with my former Green Beret teammate; after spending almost ten years serving together, Erik’s never afraid to call me out on my shit.
Still. I’m not going to make it easy on him. Especially when it comes to a topic I’m still hesitant to bring up myself. Every time I think about asking Isla specifics about her plan for the future—Dallas, San Antonio, Seguin, or worst case, heading to Vermont to move in with Rory—I feel more nervous than I did the time I asked out Emily Grayson in sophomore year of high school after months of an unrequited crush.
She told me no, by the way. Emphatically. And later, I heard her laughing to her friends about how I was fine for a biology lab partner but she would never consider dating me.
Not that I think Isla would laugh. I know she wouldn’t.
But every time I get close to bringing it up, my old nemesis, insecurity, creeps in.
It’s ridiculous, really. I’m forty years old. I spent decades in the Army, much of it in the Green Berets, heading off on missions that had equal chances of success and a torturous death. But here I am, afraid to ask my girlfriend to move in with me.
Except it’s not just Isla moving in. It’s Isla and little Dove or Eagle. A real commitment. One that lasts for years, decades, possibly, instead of mere months.
Do I want it? Isla? The baby? A family?
Yes. A thousand times, yes.
But what if I ask Isla and she says no? What if she’s not ready and I make her feel uncomfortable as a result? What if she feels obligated to say yes since she’s already staying at Blade and Arrow?
What if I jump the gun and ruin everything?
“Hey, I was just messing with you.” Erik’s expression sobers. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s really none of my business, anyway.”
“No, you’re fine.” With a small smile, I add, “You’re one of my best friends. Of course you can ask.”
“Still, I’m not trying to push. If you’re not sure…”
“I am, though. That’s the frustrating part of it.” Glancing in the direction of the changing rooms again, I wait a few seconds to make sure Isla doesn’t come through them before continuing, “I want her to move in. To stay.”
Erik regards me contemplatively. “And the baby?”
“Isla and the baby. I want them both there. Maybe it sounds crazy since it hasn’t been that long… But more time isn’t going to make me feel differently.”
“So why don’t you ask her?”
“Because of the situation, partly. I mean, she’s dealing with all this?—”
An alarm shrills from my phone, cutting me off mid-sentence.
It’s insistent. Impossible to ignore. And terrifyingly familiar.
As my heart rockets into my throat, I dig in my pocket for my phone, the damn case slipping from my hand twice before I can grab hold of it.
In the moments it takes to focus on the screen, silent prayers fly through my head.
Let it just be a false alarm.
An accident, someone inadvertently triggering their earring or ring.
Maybe Isla caught one of the dresses on her earring, and that’s what the alert is coming from.
Or maybe it’s a software malfunction. One of those stupid bugs that shows up after a system update.
Please let it be anything other than Isla being in trouble.
“Matt.” Erik’s voice is low. Urgent.
I look at the little alert message on my phone. And the truth slams into me in a breath-stealing blow.
The signal isn’t from Isla’s earring. But it’s from Rhiannon’s ring.
Oh, fuck.
Why is Rhi signaling for help?
Why isn’t she coming out here?
Is Isla sick? Hurt? Is something wrong with the baby?
Erik closes in, his expression shadowed with worry. Still in that same low tone, he says, “She’s still in the building. And Isla’s tracker is showing her with Rhi.”
Fear pulses cold and heavy in my chest.
Something is terribly wrong.
“What’s happening?” Lydia asks, her voice pitching up. “What’s wrong?”
Erik glances at her. “Stay here.” A beat, and then, “Hide behind the counter and call the police. Don’t move unless we tell you to.”
My legs are tensing to run, to follow the instinctive need to get to Isla. To help her. Make sure—oh, please—she’s okay.
Never in my life has logic seemed less important. All I can hear is a silent voice shouting in my head, go, go, go.
I move towards the curtained doorway without thinking before Erik’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Wait,” he says quietly, but with a hint of command. “Don’t just run in there.”
“But Isla?—”
“We can’t go in unprepared. You know that.” His dark eyes burn into mine. “We need to treat this like an op. Make a plan. Don’t just rush in.”
Shit.
I know he’s right. And if there were any other situation, I’d be in total agreement. I’d be the one preaching calm and cool-minded strategy. But it’s the woman I love. The baby I’ve started thinking of as my own.
Shit.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I grit out through clenched teeth, “Okay. What do you want to do?”
Erik looks over at the doorway. “I’ll go in first. Just past the curtains. Depending on what I hear, we’ll decide from there.”
While I want to be the first one in, I understand why he wants to do it this way. If something is really wrong…
Fuck.
I can’t even think it.
“Got it,” I reply with a lift of my chin. Then I pull my Sig from its holster and hold it at the ready. At the same time, Erik follows suit.
Then he gives me a quick chin lift and angles his head towards the doorway. “Ready?”
“Ready.” My fingers tighten around the handle. My shoulders set. “Do it.”
At my response, he moves forward, pausing at the heavy curtains for a moment before pushing them aside and slipping past them. I pause just before the doorway and hold my breath. I cock my ear, listening.
Hoping.
Maybe it’s not as bad as I fear. Maybe Erik will come out chuckling, and Rhi and Isla will follow him out with matching sheepish expressions, explaining how the ring was triggered and they didn’t realize it.
Which is stupid to consider, really. Rhi would never make a mistake like that. And if something accidental happened, she’d tell us right away.
In the seconds it takes for Erik to return, it feels like ten lifetimes pass by.
Then he comes back through the curtain, a grim look in his eyes. Leaning close to speak near my ear, he speaks just above a murmur. “There are two men in there. I didn’t go far enough to see them, but I could hear them talking. From the sounds of it, they’re armed.”
My heart stops.
How?
We did everything right.
Or did we?
What did I do wrong? How did I screw this up?
No. I can’t waste time on self-recriminations and second guesses. All that matters right now is getting Isla and Rhi to safety.
Swallowing back against the rising panic, I reply, “Rhi’s armed. But she may not have wanted to engage with Isla so close.”
“Right. But if we get in there, give Rhi a chance to make a move…”
“Alright.” Pausing, I take a deep breath and blow it out. “You take one, I’ll take the other. Assuming Rhi is okay, she’ll have our six. And whoever is closer to Isla?—”
“Got it.” He gives a short nod. “Isla’s the priority.”
After a quick shared glance, I make the motion to move.
And I pray for the first time since I was a little kid.
Erik creeps forward, through the curtains and left down a narrow hallway. At first it’s quiet, but about six feet in, we hear the low rise and fall of voices.
Male. Rough. Threatening.
Threatening my Isla. And one of my best friends.
As we get closer, the words turn from unintelligible to distinct.
“If you don’t come now, I’ll shoot your friend. Is that what you want?”
And then a slightly different voice, “You know, I could shoot you in the foot. Or the hand. Maybe that would make you more agreeable.”
The first man hisses, “Idiot. We need her in one piece. Just knock her the fuck out and shoot this other bitch. We’re running out of time.”
Erik edges towards the open door to the changing rooms with me several feet behind him. Both our Sigs are out and at the ready.
And then I see them.
Two men all in black—so damn creative—with masked faces and hoodies drawn up over their heads. One of them has a gun pointed at Isla, the other at Rhiannon.
I can only catch a tiny glimpse at this angle, but from what I can see, both women look unharmed. Scared in Isla’s case and pissed off in Rhi’s, but there’s no blood or other obvious injuries.
Erik glances over his shoulder at me. His eyes ask the question without having to say it.
I lift my chin. A silent agreement to go.
As we prepare to move, I shove my emotions down deep. I clamp down on the fear and worry, leaving only room for the single-minded concentration I perfected in the Army.
Emotions are for later. Once Isla’s home. Safe.
Now it’s an op. The most important one I’ve ever been on.
Erik raps the wall outside the changing room. A dull thud echoes through the hall.
One of the men inside says, “Hey! What was that?”
“What the fuck?” the other grunts. “Is someone coming? Did one of you bitches do that?”
Then we make our move.
Erik races in first and leaps on one of the men, slamming him to the ground with a resounding thud.
As the other turns around to see what’s going on, I lunge at him. All the martial arts skills I still practice come like second nature, my muscles moving without thought.
Arm chop. Leg sweep. Chest punch. Arm bar.
The man’s gun clatters to the ground.
Rhiannon jumps forward and snatches it up. Then she kicks the man I have on the ground, snarling, “You fucking asshole. How dare you point a gun at a pregnant woman?”
A glance to my left shows that Erik has his guy pinned and is already zip tying the piece of garbage’s wrists together. The dark-clad man is whining, “My arms, my arms, you’re going to pull them out of their sockets! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
Erik yanks the man’s arms harder and growls, “ Shut the fuck up . You’re lucky I don’t rip them off.”
And against the wall, in a purple dress, is Isla. Pink eyed and obviously frightened, tears dampening her cheeks, but at least visually, she looks okay.
“Isla, honey,” I call over the yowls of my own captive. “Are you okay?”
She nods at me, her chin wobbling. “I’m alright.”
“Here, let me take him.” Rhiannon kneels beside me, a wad of zip ties in her hand—another piece of advice from Cole was to always carry a supply of them wherever we go. “I can restrain him. You go to Isla.”
While part of me wants to pummel this asshole until he’s blue all over, I lift my chin at Rhi instead. After all, seeing to Isla is more important than assuaging my own vindictive instincts.
Once Rhiannon takes over, I jump to my feet and rush to Isla’s side.
Before I can even get my arms around her, she burrows into my chest. Her hands clutch at my shirt. Damp skin presses against my neck. Pressed against me, I can feel Isla’s heart beating in a frenzied rhythm and her chest rises and falls rapidly.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispers into my neck. “I knew you would.”
Oh.
Tears burn in my eyes.
I could have lost her. One of these men could have shot her. Could have taken her.
My incredible Isla could have been terribly hurt. Traumatized so much worse than she already was.
“Oh, Isles.” I hug her close and press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”
Guilt swamps me. This was supposed to be fun for her. It was supposed to be safe.
How did this go so spectacularly wrong?
“The police are on their way,” reports Erik. He stands and glowers at the man lying restrained in front of him. Then he glances at Isla, his features softening as he looks at her. “Are you okay, Isla?”
She nods, her head bumping my chin.
Though I’m loath to let her go, I need to check her more closely. So I hold onto her shoulders and gently set her away from me for a second. I scan her body, searching for any evidence of injury as I ask, “Are you hurt anywhere, Isles? Did they touch you? Are you having any cramping? Any pain?”
Isla’s watery gaze meets mine. “I’m okay, Matt. They didn’t touch me. And I’m not in pain. The baby feels—” Her voice cracks. More tears well in her eyes. “They were going to take me. And I think they wanted my baby.”
Rage like nothing I’ve felt sweeps through me.
If I didn’t have Isla here, I might actually kill one of these assholes.
But I do. And she’s the most important thing.
Gathering her close again, I press desperate kisses to her head. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. This—” Emotion closes my throat for a second. “I’m just so damn sorry.”
Her soft hand comes to my cheek and she tips her head back to meet my gaze. “It’s not your fault, Matt. They cut the glass in the storage room. That’s what they said. There was no way to know.”
I almost crack my molars trying to keep my denial in.
I should have known.
Or I shouldn’t have brought her at all.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “We’ll get you checked out at the hospital, and then we’ll go home, and?—”
“I’m okay.” It’s quiet but emphatic. “Really.” The fear leaves her eyes. “You protected me. All of you did.”
My heart.
I feel so fucking guilty.
But I’m also so damn thankful she’s okay.
I scoop Isla up, one arm behind her back and the other her legs. Brushing a kiss across her forehead, I say, “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
She loops an arm around my neck and kisses my cheek. “Okay.” Then in a small voice, “Can we still buy those outfits? Do you think that would be okay?”
Oh.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and swallow hard. “Of course. We’ll buy whatever you want.”