Guarded from Treachery (Blade and Arrow Security Bravo Team #4)

Chapter 20

20

MATT

“ W hy did I agree to see her again?”

Isla glances over at me from the passenger seat, her anxiety clear in the tight set of her features. Her teeth worry her lower lip before she continues, “It seemed like a good idea when she called. But now that it’s actually happening, I’m not as sure.”

Honestly, I wasn’t too sure about it either. When Isla’s mother called last week asking if she could see her, my protective instincts went into overdrive. After everything Isla’s been through over the last few months, the last thing I want for her is more stress. More worry. And the potential of being upset all over again.

But it’s Isla’s choice, and if she thinks talking to her mother face-to-face is a good idea, I’m going to support her regardless of my concerns.

It doesn’t mean I won’t worry, though.

“You know I don’t mind going in with you,” I remind her. Letting go of the steering wheel with one hand, I rub the knotted muscles in Isla’s neck. “If you don’t want to introduce me right away, I could sit at another table. If you want.”

It’s not that I’m afraid to leave her alone—well, no more than usual, at least. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel completely comfortable being separated from Isla after nearly losing her more times than I want to think about. It’s something I asked Dante about before my first weekend away from Blade and Arrow, wondering how he handled leaving Sarah after she was abducted.

“It was incredibly hard,” he confided. “I almost backed out of the job half a dozen times, at least. But I kept reminding myself, we have security measures in place. The entire team has my six, and by extension, Sarah’s. And despite my reservations, I knew it was important to give Sarah her space. To let her feel normal again.”

I knew he was right. I still do. But that doesn’t make the separation any easier. Not during the first three-day trip to Houston for a security job, or the weekend in Fort Worth a week after that. It’s hard just leaving Isla to head into San Antonio for a few hours, my mind wandering to frightening places instead of staying on the task at hand.

Logically, I know Isla’s safe. In the month since everything went down at the store, thanks to the work of the FBI and our own investigation, all the players in the black market adoption ring have been arrested and brought up on charges. Day, Oaks, Williams, McMaster and Whitley, and another dozen accessories including nurses, doctors, attorneys, and the hired muscle in charge of guarding the women at Day’s guest house.

And that’s not even counting the clients; millionaires who thought nothing of using their wealth to gain possession of something they should never have been given. People who may not have been directly involved, but were complicit in the horrors Remington and Day committed.

But they’re in custody and no longer a threat. So I shouldn’t be worried about leaving Isla for at most an hour as she meets with her mother at the Cozy Cuppa, a coffee and tea shop in Seguin. I’ve been there before, so I know it’s always buzzing with activity, particularly on a Saturday afternoon. So if there was a problem, there would be plenty of people around to help—customers, employees, and the very helpful owner, Maeve, a recent transplant from London.

There won’t be a problem, though. Isla will be fine. Her pregnancy is coming along perfectly, and now that she’s twenty weeks along, her little bump has become more pronounced. We both take turns talking to the little hatchling, as we call little Dove or Eagle, and every night we fall asleep with my hand cupped protectively over her belly.

Aside from this unexpected meeting with Isla’s mother, things would be pretty close to perfect, really.

Isla’s all moved into our apartment at Blade and Arrow, and I’ve already started working on the nursery. She’s still working remotely, though I’m secretly hoping she’ll quit once the baby comes and let me take care of her. It sounds so old-school, something I never considered myself to be. When my friends had kids and the women went back to work afterwards, I never thought twice about it.

But Isla has been working so hard for so long, and she’s been through so much. Is it wrong to want to take some of the burden from her? To give her what I know she really wants, which is spending as much time as possible with her baby?

Or our baby, as I’ve been thinking about more and more as the weeks go by. Not biologically, of course, but in all the other ways that count. And isn’t that what really matters? That I would be there for all the important things? The first word, the first step, the first tooth. Holidays and trips and the first day of school. Being there for all of it.

Unexpectedly, my nose prickles.

I always thought about kids, but in a more abstract way. In a maybe one day, if the stars align kind of thing. But now it’s real. And the closer we get to Isla’s due date, the more excited I get.

“Are you thinking about the baby again?” As I slow to a stop at a traffic light, I shift my attention from the road to catch a glimpse of Isla’s affectionate gaze.

“Why would you think that?” I ask.

“Because your eyes went all melty again. Like warm chocolate. And whenever that happens, I know you’re thinking about me or Dove.” She pauses, and her lips curve into a teasing smile. “Or Eagle.”

The light turns green and I carefully accelerate through it before I reply, “I was thinking about both of you, actually. Nice things. Like how much I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replies. Then she leans over and kisses my cheek. “And I know you would come with me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. But I think it’s probably better to talk to her one-on-one at first.”

She goes quiet for a moment before continuing, “I want you to meet her, of course. I’m thinking when you come back, you could come inside so I can introduce you. Assuming it’s not a total disaster and I end up calling you to pick me up after the first five minutes.”

As much as I hope this meeting goes well, disaster is definitely a possibility. No matter how genuine Isla’s mother came across when she called, it doesn’t erase decades of cold indifference and treatment that, in my opinion, verged on neglect.

She claimed she was sorry about how she acted when Isla was growing up, blaming it on the almost cult-like expectations of their church and her husband’s controlling attitude towards women. She said she didn’t realize how bad it had gotten, how badly she’d handled things, until finding out about Isla’s pregnancy just two weeks ago.

When Isla ended the call, pale and shaky, she told me, “That was my mother. She hasn’t called me in years. But she said my dad never told her about my pregnancy, and she didn’t know he refused to help. She… she said she left him. That she’s filing for divorce. And she wants to be a part of my life again.”

The news was definitely a surprise. Especially when Isla added in a disbelieving tone, “She asked if she could come visit. Soon. So she can apologize in person. I’m not sure what to think. After so long… I’m not sure I can trust her. But if I say no, will I end up regretting it?”

After a couple days of reflection, Isla agreed to meet. But she was adamant it should be in a neutral place. “I don’t want her at my home,” Isla explained. “Not now. This is my safe place, and if this doesn’t go well, I don’t want her tainting it.”

So we picked the Cozy Cuppa instead. And while Isla is meeting with her mother, I’ll be less than half a mile away at the community center, manning the computer lab and teaching some of the kids how to code. I’ll be close enough to rush over whenever Isla calls, whether it’s five minutes or an hour later.

Speaking of the Cozy Cuppa, it’s just up ahead on our right, and I slow before signalling to turn into the parking lot. “I’ll be ready to come whenever you want,” I reply. “It’ll take me no more than five minutes to get here.” As I pull into an empty spot in the half-full lot, I add, “Or I can wait outside. Not that I think it’ll go badly. But just in case.”

“No, that’s okay.” Now that the car’s stopped, Isla unfastens her seatbelt and turns towards me. “I’ll be fine here. Like you said, you’re only five minutes away. And the kids at the center have been waiting for you to visit.” With a smirk, she adds, “Eager to learn your computer magic, I’m sure. So they can become little hackers and internet vigilantes like you.”

“You think I’m an internet vigilante?” I grin at her. “Is that a bad thing or a good one?”

“It’s good. I think your computer magic is wonderful, Matt. Because you use it for the right things. Helping your friends. Making sure the people you care about are safe. And punishing those that deserve it.”

I didn’t keep my role in delivering retribution to the slimy clients a secret from Isla. While they were all arrested and brought up on charges of fraud, among other charges, I wanted to make sure their wealth wouldn’t allow them to get out of it. So they may have come up against some sudden financial hardships over the last few weeks, not that I’ll ever officially admit to any responsibility in it.

Once I come around to the other side of the car and open the door for Isla, she reaches for my hand and lets me help her out. With her small hand safely tucked into mine, I lead her across the parking lot towards the coffee shop entrance. As we walk, I ask, “So you don’t mind that some of the stuff I do isn’t completely legal? And that you can’t talk about it to other people?”

“Of course not.” It’s quick. Fierce. “Matt. Of all people, I understand. If I’d sat back and relied on the police… I don’t want to think about what might have happened. I know you and your teammates break the law sometimes. But it’s never to harm. It’s to make sure justice is served.”

Ah, shit.

In my life, I never, ever imagined finding that one perfect person who gets me. Not just gets me, but loves me just as I am. Computer nerd, slightly awkward, not very good at cooking and has ears that give me away whenever I’m embarrassed, me.

“Oh, Isles.” Stopping just outside the entrance, I gather her into my arms and lower my lips to hers. “I love you so much.”

Her eyes sparkle up at me, amethyst and sapphire in the early afternoon sun. “I love you, too, Matt. With all my heart.” She kisses me again. Then her gaze drifts to the large picture window beside the glass door and she sucks in a breath. “I see her in there.”

After a second, I spot a woman who’s very clearly Isla’s mother—she has the same chestnut hair and heart-shaped face—sitting at a table with her eyes downcast. She doesn’t look like the monster I’ve imagined her to be, but one thing I’ve learned in my years in the Army and later, with Blade and Arrow, is that evil is often hidden by a beautiful veneer.

Although, maybe her mother really is sorry. Maybe she truly wants to make amends.

Still. Family or not, if she tries to hurt Isla again, I won’t allow it.

Isla sighs and takes a step away from me. “I should go inside. Find out what she has to say.”

A band winds around my chest and squeezes. Cold sweat prickles at the back of my neck. There’s a part of me that wants to insist on staying. To sit at the little counter on the other side of the shop just to keep an eye on things. Or barring that, stay in my car just in case Isla needs my support.

But she’s an adult. And while I know she lets me do things for her even though she’s perfectly capable of doing them herself, this is something she wants—needs—to do on her own. So I force a smile and say, “Okay. Just call me when you want me to come back. I bet it’ll be just fine and you’ll realize you had nothing to worry about.”

Fear shadows her expression for a second. “I hope so.”

“Hey.” I catch her hand and give it a little squeeze. “It will. And after this, we’ll go home and spend the rest of the day together. Maybe watch some HGTV, play Minecraft , or I could help with your new model. And Xavier and Lucy were talking about grilling out in the barn tonight. So we could join them if you want.”

Her face brightens. “That sounds nice. And after that, I could show you some of the new lingerie I bought?”

My pants suddenly go tight. A needy ache builds inside me. “Yes. Definitely .”

“Okay.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and stretches up to kiss me again. “I’ll call to let you know how things are going.” A beat, and then, “I know you won’t be gone long. But I’ll miss you.”

Oh.

My heart.

I cup her soft cheek and stroke my thumb across her satin skin. “I’ll miss you, too.”

It’s only been half an hour.

If I haven’t heard from Isla yet, that means things are going well. She didn’t have a blowout fight with her mother in the first few minutes of conversation or rush off in tears after her mother said something cruel or insensitive.

More likely, they’re having a pleasant conversation, hopefully complete with lots of groveling on Isla’s mother’s part. Hopefully, Isla is receiving at least a small fraction of the affection she should have received as a kid.

So it’s fine, just like I said. There’s nothing to worry about.

“Mr. Cross? What should I do next? The program is asking me to write a line of code that will make my hero attack the monster on the other side of the door.”

I shove my phone back in my pocket and turn to face the source of the question, thirteen-year-old Evan Isaacson, who reminds me a lot of myself at that age. He doesn’t have the second-hand clothes, but he carries himself in that same self-conscious way, his posture slumped and his gaze lowered to the floor.

He’s one of the reasons I like coming to the community center, although I haven’t been able to visit as much recently—not with everything going on with Isla and then getting her settled in at B and A, plus the jobs I’ve been going on over the last couple of weeks. We started volunteering here as a team when Sarah came on to help as a counselor, and we’ve continued coming ever since. It’s been nice, getting to know the local families of Seguin and letting them know we’re here to help if they ever need.

“Okay.” I take the seat at the computer beside Evan and look at his screen. “So, what you want to do first is determine the functions you need to use. Walk, turn, open door, and attack. Then decide the order of them.”

“Hmm.” He leans close to the screen as he studies it. “So I need to walk first, turn twice, open the door… then attack?”

I tap the display on the screen—a little knight holding a sword making his way through a castle, taking on a variety of monsters and finding treasures as he goes. “After you come through the door, are you close enough to attack? Or do you need to walk a little further?”

After a moment’s consideration, Evan replies, “Walk further. Then attack. Right?”

“Exactly.” I smile at him. “Next step is figuring out how many steps you need to walk each time. What I’d do is a short test run just to the door. Then?—”

A loud alarm blares from my phone.

My heart stops. Ice fills my lungs.

Fear slams into me with the force of a tank.

Terror explodes inside me.

“What’s that sound?” Evan asks.

But I can’t answer. My voice won’t work.

I jam my hand into my pocket and yank out my phone, my hand slick with sweat as I try to hold onto it.

In the moment it takes to look at the screen, my brain fractures into frantic, panicked thoughts.

Oh, please. No.

This can’t be.

It can’t be what I think it is.

Isla’s supposed to be safe.

Did I fail her again?

Is it the baby?

Her mother?

I don’t know the answers to most. But what I do know as I stare in disbelief at my phone is that Isla’s in trouble. Again. And I’m not there to protect her.

Her little tracking dot is still at Cozy Cuppa, but instead of a flat red, it’s flashing. Telling me she needs help. That I need to get there.

“I have to go,” I blurt as I jump up from my chair. “Someone’s in trouble and I need to go.”

Evan turns to look at me, a calm confidence in his eyes. “If you’re going to help them, then it’s going to be okay.”

It’s a small reassurance, but I keep spinning his words in my head as I race from the community center and out to my car. She has to be okay. It’s the middle of the day. There were people at the shop. People who would see if something was wrong. People who would step in, or at the very least, call the police.

But then, why did Isla trigger her alert?

Is she sick? Hurt? Unable to use her phone?

As I peel out onto the road, a truly terrifying thought strikes me.

What if her parents were involved like we considered in the beginning?

There was no proof. Nothing that even hinted at it, aside from her father’s cruel behavior. Last we checked—last I checked—Elliot Nightingale hadn’t left New Hampshire in months, not since a weekend trip to Vermont for Isla’s cousin’s wedding. There was no extra money. No new investments. Just a sixty-something couple living in a paid-off house and spending the majority of their time at church events.

But what if I missed something?

Or what if her mother came here to hurt Isla? What if news of the pregnancy pushed her over the edge, and this whole visit was a ploy to punish Isla for her rejection of their beliefs?

Fuck.

I jam my foot to the floor, hearing the engine rev loudly. But not as loud as the thunder of my pulse in my head.

There’s a monster inside me, tearing with vicious claws as it tries to escape.

Taking full breaths is an impossibility.

Fuck.

I’m so scared.

As I take the corner, my car comes nearly up on two wheels. Horns squawk angrily behind me.

My phone buzzes with a call, the signature Blade and Arrow tone. With one eye still glued to the little tracking display, I’m loath to answer the phone and lose sight of Isla’s dot for a second.

But it’s my team. And I need to answer.

Right now, I need them.

But please. Oh, please. Let Isla be okay.

Jabbing the screen, I answer the call with a barked, “Isla’s in trouble. I’m en route now.”

Dante’s voice comes through the speaker. He sounds calm, but his voice carries an undercurrent of urgency. “Xav and Rhi are here. I’m bringing Rhi while Xav stays back. We’ll be on the road in less than two minutes. Speeding, we should make it to Seguin in under fifteen.”

My molars grind to dust as I try to keep from yelling. It’s not his fault he can’t be here right away. “Okay,” I grit out. “Can you call the police? I don’t want to?—”

Cozy Cuppa comes up on my left, the parking lot still scattered with cars. Not as many as before, but still more than enough.

More than enough people to help Isla.

So why aren’t they?

If she’s hurt, why don’t I hear the telltale sirens on the way?

“I’m here,” I finish. “I’m going in.”

There’s silence for a second. Then, “Okay. We’re on the road.” He pauses. “She’s going to be okay, Matt. Don’t assume the worst.”

Easy for him to say. His fiancée is safely at home.

Shit.

I know that’s not fair. Dante understands better than most.

But I’m just so fucking scared.

I jerk the car into park and jab the ignition, then leap out before it stops moving completely.

I’m a few steps to the shop before rational thought kicks in. My Sig. Was I really going to go rushing in unarmed?

Shit. I lunge at the car door and practically rip it open. I reach into the glove box and grab my gun, taking the briefest of pauses to make sure it’s loaded.

Of course it is. I always keep my Sig loaded and ready. If I weren’t at the community center, I would have already had it on me. But spending time around kids, it didn’t seem right.

I shove the Sig into the back of my waistband as I approach the shop, not wanting to alarm anyone who might be looking outside. Resisting the urge to sprint, I move at a quick jog instead. If there’s someone inside who’s holding Isla hostage, threatening to hurt her, I don’t want to give them cause for alarm.

Instead of going straight to the door, I head to the left, taking a quick look through the picture window as I do so.

To my shock, there’s no one there.

No one.

All the tables are vacant. Not empty, there are still cups and plates with food still on them. A few chairs have purses hanging from the backs. There are even a couple of shopping bags sitting on the floor beside the tables.

Further back, the counter is unmanned. The typical three or four employees on duty are gone.

Gone.

How? Why?

I reach for my phone again, feeling like I’m moving through quicksand. My pulse is deafening. My lungs don’t want to work.

Where is she?

I thought I knew fear. But this?—

Horrible scenarios fly through my head, each one worse than the last. Someone forcing all the people in the shop into the back and holding them hostage. Possibly picking them off one by one. Or—oh, please, no—my Isla hurt. Bleeding. Even?—

No.

I can’t lose her. I can’t.

On a whispered prayer, I look at the screen.

Isla is still here.

Not in the shop, but somewhere out back.

Her dot’s still blinking madly. But it’s no proof she’s okay.

Forget subtlety, I flat-out sprint around the building, terror pushing me faster than I’ve ever run before.

Sig in hand, I hold it at the ready, my finger tensed on the trigger and ready to fire. All my muscles are poised to attack.

As I race around the side of the one-story brick building, I ruthlessly shove my fears down. Now is time for focus and strategy. For using the same logic I do in my investigations. For leaning on the skills I’ve mastered over so many years.

Whatever happens, I can’t let my emotions take control.

Isla needs me calm. Poised. Ready to do whatever it takes to help her.

Just before I round the back corner, I hear the rise and fall of excited voices.

Not celebratory voices, but not frightened, either.

Then.

My phone rings.

Answer it or keep running?

Isla’s name splashes across the screen.

Nothing makes sense.

I punch the answer button as I fly around the corner. “Isla!” I shout. “Where?—”

“I’m here.” It’s soft. Shaky. “Right here, Matt.”

For a second, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

At least a dozen people are crowded in a loose circle at the rear of the shop. Most of them are women, with a few taller male heads spread among them.

And then through the circle Isla emerges.

Her clothes rumpled but unstained. Hair falling free of the braid she had it in earlier. One hand resting across her belly, the other clutched to her chest.

But she’s not bleeding. Not limping as she walks towards me.

I run towards her, feeling closer to tears than I’ve ever been.

“Isla, honey.” Slowing to keep from crashing into her, I pull her into my arms the second we meet. “What happened? Are you?—”

But now that she’s in front of me, I get a closer look at her face. And the blossoming bruise rising on her cheek. Red and purple. Blood trickling sluggishly from a tiny cut beneath her eye. Her eyes pink and swollen from tears.

Something cold and furious rushes through me. Something deadly. Even as I touch her cheek gently, my voice is low and dangerous. “Who did this to you?”

She takes her hand from her stomach and gestures at the group of people. At the center of them, sprawled on the ground, is a man being held at gunpoint by one of the employees. “He did.”

While my instinct is to race over there and punch him, I hold myself back, needing answers first. “Who is he? And why did he?—”

Isla grasps my hand with trembling fingers. Her watery eyes meet mine. “That’s Peter. My ex. He—” Her voice cracks. Wobbles. “He was following me. And when I went to the bathroom, he was there. Waiting.”

“What?”

“He had a gun,” she replies. “And he said if I didn’t come with him, he’d start shooting everyone inside. He wanted me to go out the back entrance and to his car.” She points at a dark sedan parked at the edge of the rear lot. “He threatened to hurt the baby if I didn’t go with him.”

Rage erupts into an inferno. “He held a gun on you?”

“Yes.” She shudders. Fresh tears spring to her eyes. “He was a part of it, Matt. He knew Remington. Played golf with him at the same club. And Peter… he was the one who suggested me. He knew what Remington was doing, but he never got involved before. But he thought I’d bring in a good price, he said. And he was going to get half the profits.”

I take a step towards the man on the ground. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He said…” Isla shudders again. “That he knew the client. Who wanted me. And he was going to finish what Day and Remington started. Take my baby and sell it. And then… he said if I was good, he might not kill me. He might keep me for himself instead.”

In the distance, sirens approach. Finally .

Although on second thought, I kind of wish the police weren’t on the way, because now I can’t beat the living shit out of this asshole.

Swallowing against the impotent fury in my chest, I manage a fairly calm, “How did you get away?”

She lifts her chin. Pride shines in her eyes. “I knew he wouldn’t really shoot me. Not if he wanted the baby. I just needed to wait until we got outside.”

From the center of the circle, Peter yelps as one of the women kicks him. Glancing over, I realize it’s Maeve, and she snaps at him, “Be lucky that’s all I did, you wanker.”

“Once we got out here,” Isla continues, “I pretended to have a cramp. I told Peter I thought it might be the baby. From the stress. He freaked out. And when he was distracted, I kicked him.”

“You what?”

“I kicked him in the balls,” she explains. “And then I punched him. In the throat. Like you showed me.” She holds up her swollen hand as evidence, and fresh anger rushes through me all over again.

“By then, my mother came looking for me,” Isla adds. “She was worried something was wrong. Once she realized I was in trouble, she yelled for help inside. Everyone came out right after I punched him. And Iris, one of the baristas, brought out the gun they keep behind the counter.”

The woman holding Peter at gunpoint calls over, “I knew having a gun here would come in handy one day.” Then she kicks him for good measure, grinning as he whimpers in pain.

From the crowd, Isla’s mother approaches, white-faced and shaking. She nods at me as she says quietly, “I wasn’t sure what to do… If I rushed over, I was afraid he’d hurt Isla. So I thought I should make sure the police were coming. But I was coming back. I wouldn't have let—” Her voice breaks. To Isla, she sobs, “I’m so sorry. I failed you again.”

“You did the right thing,” Isla replies. “He would have hurt you if you interfered. Calling the police was best. And I knew Matt would come. That he wouldn’t let me get far, even if Peter did force me into his car.”

Yes, I would have found Isla. With her tracker, it wouldn’t have taken long. And this piece of garbage Peter wouldn’t have been a match for me. Not a chance. But still. The idea of her being abducted again, hurt, terrified…

“Oh, honey.” The emotion I’ve been trying to suppress comes surging to the surface. I lift her wounded hand to my lips and kiss it gently. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here.”

“Matt. I told you to leave. It’s not your fault. And there was no way to know… Peter? I haven’t spoken to him in over a year. He was just this shadowy slime who didn’t want to risk his own neck.”

“Still.” Guilt drapes heavy over my shoulders. “I should have realized.”

“You couldn’t have. From what he said in the bathroom, he never got involved in the actual organization. He had a connection with Remington, and that was it. If Remington hadn’t died, maybe we would have known.” She pauses. “But if he hadn’t died, I would have been held captive. I would never have made it to that parking lot. And you wouldn’t have saved me.”

My finger brushes lightly over the bruise on Isla’s cheek. I hate seeing it. Knowing she was hurt and I wasn’t here to stop it.

“She was so brave,” Isla’s mother says. “But Isla always was the brave one. Standing up to her father. Standing up to me.” Her face crumples. “She’s going to be such a good mother.”

Emotion washes across Isla’s face. “I’m going to try.” She looks from her mother to me. “But I won’t be doing it alone. I have Matt to help me.”

From terror comes the sweetest relief.

I hug Isla to me again, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I love you,” I murmur.

“I love you, too,” she replies. “And I never doubted you’d be here. Not for a second.”

Another glance at that piece of garbage Peter makes me say, “Hang on. I just want to have a word with your asshole ex.”

I leave Isla with her mother as I approach the man still laying on the ground. He’s blond and well dressed in that preppy sort of way, though his shirt has some noticeable shoe marks on it.

Crouching beside him, I roll him roughly onto his back. His eyes go wide as he sees my murderous expression. “You’re lucky all these people are here,” I snarl, letting him see in my eyes how truly furious I am. “Because if they weren’t, I would kill you for putting your hands on Isla. For hurting her.”

The piece of shit actually has the nerve to smirk at me. “Well. You can’t, can you?”

“No. But.” I lean close so only he can hear me. “I have connections. Friends who can come after you in prison. And that’s where you’ll be. For a very long time. Don’t think money will help. It won’t. You fucked with the wrong woman, asshole.”

Alarm flickers in his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I have a friend,” I answer. “A bounty hunter. Who knows lots of people in prison. And if I ask, he’ll make sure you don’t survive. And honestly, I’m pretty damn close to asking him to do it right now.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes.” I bare my teeth at him. “I would.” Then I cock my arm back and let my fist fly.

It smashes into his nose, and I hear a satisfying crack. Blood gushes down his face. As his eyes flutter shut, I add in a menacing tone, “Don’t you even think about Isla again. Or it’s the last thing you’ll do.”

Once he goes limp—not dead, unfortunately, but just unconscious—I stand again. The crowd around me bursts into a round of applause. “I’d prefer if we didn’t mention this,” I say. “Just to keep things less complicated.”

“Absolutely,” Maeve answers. “I didn’t see anything.” She turns to Iris. “Did you?”

“Nope,” Iris replies cheerfully. “Not me.”

“Me neither,” adds a silver-haired woman with horn-rimmed glasses. “I think he actually fell on his nose. After your brave young lady defended herself against him.”

“Yup,” says another woman, this one younger, with a streak of blue hair. “The guy fell.” She gives me an approving smile. “I hope you broke it.”

Once the rest of the crowd agrees, I turn away from Peter and head back to the woman who holds my heart.

As I walk back to Isla, I consider my threat. My Army buddy, Rafe, could easily arrange for Peter to be dealt with. Permanently.

Will I ask him to?

I’m not sure. It depends on what Isla wants.

When I get to Isla, she rushes to me again and twines her arms around my waist. Her damp face nestles against my neck. She just stands there, hugging me hard for a few seconds before tilting her head back to meet my gaze.

“You punched him,” she says.

“I did,” I confirm. “Are you mad that I hit a defenseless man?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. And I wonder if she thinks it was too violent. Too impulsive.

Then she smiles, and all is right in the world again. “No. I’m glad you did. And when we get home, you’re going to show me how to do the same thing. This time so I don’t mess up and bruise my hand. Okay?”

Oh.

“Yes,” I reply through a thickening throat. “Anything you want. Anything.”

Her eyes are steady on mine. “Then I want to go home. And spend our day like you said. Playing our games. Spending time with our friends. Being with you.”

To her mother, she adds, “And we’ll talk. Okay? Maybe next time, you can come to Blade and Arrow to see where I live.”

Her mother blinks. Tears shine in her eyes. “I would love that.”

As police cars and ambulances come flying into the parking lot, sirens and lights blaring, Isla snuggles into my chest, giving me most of her weight. My arms tighten around her instinctively, and I’m not sure when I’ll be willing to let go of her again.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispers. “You always do.”

Oh.

Tears burn in my eyes. “Always, Isles. I will always come for you.”