“Tristan!”
I turn back, and she halts a couple feet away. I’ve been watching her from afar for days. Being this close to someone I’m supposed to take out typically means they’re about to say their last words. This is different. So very different.
“Oh my God. I never thought I’d see you again.” Her eyes are glassy, and her voice trembles. “It’s me… Isabel.”
She reaches for me, and I’m ready to jump out of my skin. I cover her mouth with my hand and press her to the alley wall. She puffs rapidly into my hand, confusion washing her beautiful features. Her stormy hazel eyes are red-rimmed, but she doesn’t struggle against me.
“Who knows about me?”
I drop my hand so she can speak. Her rose-colored lips part, but she remains silent. Is she in shock? Why do I want to kiss her? Why does seeing her cry twist something inside me?
Not knowing fills me with renewed frustration. The muscles in my jaw tense, and I grit out the next words. “Tell me. Who knows I’m here?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No one.”
I exhale in relief. “No one can know.”
As I say it, I realize I can’t trust her to stay quiet now that she’s seen me.
“Are you in trouble, Tristan? Is everything okay?”
A shockwave jolts through me every time she says my name. It’s making me edgy. This woman’s presence had me unsettled from day one. If I don’t find out why, she’ll haunt me forever. I need to find out what she knows about me. I need more time. Except every day she’s breathing is a day we’re both at risk.
I’ve given her more time than she deserves. She’s supposed to be dead. I’m not about to let her get me killed too.
Back on the street, pedestrians stream by unaware and unconcerned with us. I have to make a decision. Kill her now or satisfy curiosity about my past that’s never burned this fiercely.
CHAPTER THREE
ISABEL
Tristan’s voice is like cold velvet—rich with texture, void of feeling. I’m a trembling mess, but his eyes are calm.
He’s bigger than I remember. His clothes hint at the solid muscular frame beneath. He’s changed, but I’d know him anywhere. Those piercing eyes, opalescent blue orbs that I could stare into for the rest of my life. His hair is the same dark brown, short and unstyled. Stubble lines his jaw, making the ridges of his full lips stand out. Worry lines crease his forehead and the edges of his eyes.
We’ve grown. We’re not the same.
A thousand thoughts blur together as I convince myself he’s not a dream. No longer just a memory.
He’s Tristan Stone. The love of my life.
He takes a step back, and the separation borders on painful.
Instinct drives me next. My fingers become ten tiny magnets. I reach for him, drawn to his flesh, determined to prove he’s not an apparition. Before I can make contact, he takes my wrists in a firm grasp, holding them immobile in the horrible empty space between us. Those few inches are made up of years of missing him. Of not knowing if he was alive or dead.
“You’re looking at me like you hardly know me.” I choke on the last word because every emotion is tearing its way up my throat.
His expression never changes. He’s unreadable. “I know who you are, Isabel.”
I let go of the fight in my muscles, feeling foolish and broken all over again. He doesn’t love me anymore. I’m so far in the past, how could he have possibly hung on to those feelings like I have?
“We should go,” he says, releasing his hold on me.
I drop my hands to my sides, confused and reeling from everything that’s happening between us. True enough, this alley isn’t the safest place for a reunion.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Your place. I’m parked nearby. I’ll drive us.”
I swallow my doubts and follow him down the alley to the congested street. He tugs me behind him until we get to his car. He opens the passenger door and shuts it after me without ceremony.
Seconds later, Tristan is whipping through the streets. I can’t imagine the reason for his urgency.
“How long have you been in Rio?”
“A while.” He glances into the rearview mirror, seeming distracted.
I nod and try to ignore the sting of his tone. I remember a gentler Tristan. Always tuned in to my feelings and needs. The man I met in the street is frighteningly intense and completely unreadable.
He stops at the end of my street, puts the car in park, and turns to me.
“How do you know where I live?” My heart starts racing again at this new revelation.
“There’s no time to talk. Not here. I need you to pack a bag for a few days away,” he says.
“A few days? I can’t just leave with you. I have a job.” I can no longer hide the panic in my voice.
He stares at me silently for a moment and then speaks slowly and calmly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I have a friend outside the city. We’ll stay with him, and I can explain everything there.”
I blink slowly, trying to process his proposal. “Then we’ll come back?”
He nods wordlessly. I don’t completely believe him, but I’m not willing to let him disappear again so soon.
“I need to call work.”
He opens his palm. “Give me your phone.”
I reach into my purse and hand it to him, expecting him to make a call with it. Instead he puts it into his coat pocket.
“You have five minutes. You can make your calls on the road.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes burn with fresh tears. “Tristan…you’re scaring me.”
“Five minutes.” His voice is clipped. “Go now.”
I reach for the car door, feeling numb but propelled forward by Tristan’s inexplicable urgency. He pulls out his phone, and I step out just as he begins to speak into it.
“Mateus. I need a favor.”
I hurry to my apartment. My hands are shaking as I turn the key in the lock. I rush up the stairs and pull a backpack out of my closet. I glance at the clock, and the urge to cry is almost too strong to resist.
What the fuck am I doing? Tristan just crash-landed back into my world. After the most agonizing goodbye of my life when he joined the army all those years ago. After one last heartbreaking letter saying we were over. After years of nothing but silence and heartache.
He’s a stranger, yet he never could be. Not after everything we went through together. And now we’re thousands of miles from a home we once knew, and I’m agreeing to leave with him. It’s only a few days, but this is insane.
I keep moving through my doubt as I stuff clothes into the bag. A few toiletries. I kneel to the floor and open the lockbox under my bed. I empty it of my passport and some cash and put both into the backpack.
I scan the bedroom and living room briefly. Why does dropping everything and running off seem justifiable when the love of my life is idling at the end of the street, waiting to drive us into a future unknown?
TRISTAN
All my loose plans for leaving Rio just firmed up. I can’t let Isabel out of my sight, so the only option is to bring her into my world. Doesn’t matter what she ends up seeing anyway. Her days are numbered. Hell, at this rate, mine are too.
We drive away from her neighborhood toward the condo-lined strip of Ipanema Beach. We pull into the parking lot of my building and take the elevator to the penthouse condo in silence.
She takes one step inside and freezes. “You live here?”
“I mostly work.” Not a lot of living happens inside these walls. I shut the door behind us and shift both deadbolts to the side. As if in a daze, she wanders toward the sliding doors that lead to the oceanfront balcony. I register faint regret that it’s probably the last time I’ll have this view. The waves crash silently on the beach below as I eye her warily. So far she’s gone along with everything, but I have a feeling the window of her compliance is closing.