Isolde #2
She crosses her arms over a tight fighting shirt, her ass amazing in a pair of jeans. Not a hint of frizz in her long, dark hair. I brush my own hair back, noticing several tangles. Where did Jane put that brush?
“I found you days ago,” Adeline tells Tristan. “You need a better safe house.”
“Luis shouldn’t have—”
“I brought him ice cream.” She bats her eyelashes, smiling. “Oh, don’t growl. It’s a stressful time, and your boy is working hard.”
She slides through the door, nodding at Tyler, and then spots Ian. “Who the fuck is this, and how’d he get an invite here before me?”
Ian gives her a two finger salute. “Ian Ha—”
“Ian.” Her entire face creases. “You belong to the Irish.”
“Well, now, it’s just my nationality.”
“You’re an O’Connell.”
“I’m a Hayes.” His voice leaves little room for discussion, which has Tristan frowning between the two of them.
“They were actually just leaving,” he tells Ian.
Tyler sighs, his shoulders drooping. “This will not stand much longer, Tris.”
Before Ian lifts himself off the couch, he whispers, “Don’t forget about me, Blue.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the nickname if he’s spent time with Luis. He walks toward the door, holding a hand out for Tris like they’ll embrace. Tristan dodges, holding the door open wider.
“Call your fucking brother,” Tristan whispers, but his voice is so hard it easily carries. He shuts the door, turning three locks. “How the fuck did you find this place?”
Adeline blinks, coming out of some deep thought. Her arms are still crossed, giving her that Akatov badass attitude she’s known for. “I told you it’s fucking easy to find this place. You guys need to move.”
It only takes her a few steps before she’s beside me on the sofa. “You know it’s only a matter of time before Ren comes banging on this door too.”
I wipe hair off my face. The blanket is still twisted around me. The clock reads nine o’clock at night, and I’m not sure where all the time went.
“How you doing, Blue?” she asks gently.
“Depressed,” I admit, shifting on the sofa. I don’t really know how to hold myself.
“Fair,” Adeline says, with no judgment. She slaps a manila file on the coffee table. “We’ve got Cade.”
Tristan drops into an armchair.
“What?” I pull the blanket off me.
“Look I know it might be a bit of an overstep,” she says. “He’s technically yours to do whatever you want with, but I thought you’d be more pressed with the whole Spider thing that’s freaking everyone out.”
She opens the manila file. “We traced the five girls you helped escape from Cade’s.”
“We?” I ask.
“I asked Harry to help,” she admits, and I remember she knows the Hallows. “Turns out Hadrian had tracked them down right after it all went down. He wanted to make sure they were safe. That they got whatever they needed.”
“He never mentioned it.” But that’s classic Hadrian—pretending like he doesn’t have a heart.
Adeline slides a photo across the table, and a deep breath slices through me.
The redhead is healthy, but if she were fifteen pounds lighter, her cheeks hollowed out, I’d still recognize her.
“Anabel Winsley,” Adeline states. “She’s the poshest out of all of them.
Her family is a smidgeon below the Stuarts when it comes to money and social climbing.
As far as I can tell, they’re a lot more aboveboard.
But they were embarrassed their daughter had gotten into drugs and been trafficked.
I think they were genuinely happy to have their daughter back, but Harry and I got some pretty distinctive ‘we don’t talk about it’ vibes from them.
“So if they don’t talk about it?” Tristan asks, his elbows on his knees.
“Well. . .” Adeline shakes her head, feigned nonchalance dripping from her. “When someone from an equal, if not higher, social standing comes by and says, ‘But your daughter could help take down a very bad guy.’”
“She’s coming forward?” I blurt.
It’s the most legal way to handle things, so naturally it rocks me to the core.
“Not just her,” Adeline says, “but she’s certainly the one who got things rolling. It’s shit, but. . .”
“But when the rich white girl says she’s been trafficked,” Tristan says.
“Like I said, it’s shit,” Adeline agrees. “But we also got two of the other girls to talk. And since the Winsleys are well known and because we might also know some people on the Met who needed a win.”
Her use of the word ‘we’ could mean several people. The Bratva. The Hallows. Hell, at this point I’d believe it if Adeline herself had a contact at the Met.
“If you’re good with it, the Met is ready to go.” Serious brown eyes look to me for confirmation.
I stare at the photo. It was never just about me. If they’re ready to tell their story, I can’t get in their way.
“They’re not just going to get Cade for the trafficking,” Adeline says. “There was another girl with them. Cade might think he's the shit, but he should have invested in a better cleanup crew. We found the body. The girls are going to testify that Cade’s treatment of her resulted in her death.”
“Shit,” Tristan says under his breath.
I’d never known of any of the girls dying. Adeline places a hand on my shoulder. Tristan does the same on the other side. Instead of abhorring the physical contact like usual, I let them anchor me.
“So. . . That’s it?” I ask.
“After Cade is scooped up, the Stuarts will take over the Weed and Tweed operation,” Adeline says.
“It’s all nice and tidy then.” My fingers wrap along the hem of my shirt.
“Somewhat. The Stuarts look like they’re coming out on top, but the O'Connells won some pretty important London territory.”
I nod but I can’t find any way to really care about the state of London. Anabel Winsley’s green eyes keep staring at me.
“Ren’s really worried,” Adeline murmurs.
I rub my nose. “Yeah.”
“Len too.”
“Tell everyone I’m all right, will you?” The thought of checking my phone makes me want to puke.
“Can I do anything?” Adeline asks. “I’m quite talented when it comes to making ice cream runs.”
The skin on my cheeks tingles when I smile, the movement foreign. “Thank you, Ads. This is. . .”
Monumental bullshit that I should have dealt with long ago. God, I should be happy, but the sense of foolishness doesn’t go away. I wish I were like Adeline, pretty and cool, and able to get it all together.
She stands but motions for me to stay seated. “I’ll let you guys know when the Met grabs Cade.”
“Ads,” I call just as she gets to the door. “Don’t look into the Spider.”
Adeline holds up her hands in surrender. “I would never.”
I don’t believe her, and based on the grumpy expression on Tristan’s face, he doesn’t either.
Lennie always said her sister was a snoop, but she just tied together a perfect sex trafficking case before handing it off to the Met.
“I should have done that.” My fingers play with the decorative edge of the blanket. “Convinced them to go to the police.”
Not that I was in much of a position to help after Cade caught me freeing them.
“Going to the cops isn’t really a mindset we’re used to.” Tristan switches from the chair to the sofa, brushing my hair back. “You’re being hard on yourself.”
“Hadrian checked in on them.”
“And you got them out in the first place,” he replies. “That’s just teamwork.”
I make a noise. Maybe it’s a tiny bit of a laugh. “Can I have one of those beers?”
“Absolutely not. But I’m thrilled that you’re well enough to ask.”
Except I’m not. I lean forward, wanting to nap against his chest. He backs away, and there’s a snap of hurt at the withdrawal.
His brown eyes are warm, though. “Want to go light a candle?”