Isla peeked through matted lashes. Lit pillar candles lined the dresser and fireplace mantle. Slits of moonlight shone through the blinds. Isla rubbed her eyes and noticed smeared makeup on the pillow. Dark tangled strands fell over her shoulders.
“What happened?” she asked and moaned.
“You were healing,” Rosa chimed.
“How long?”
“You miss one day.”
Isla twisted around in the bed; the comforter slid onto the floor. Rosa approached her and checked Isla’s bandage.
“Are you the only one in here?”
“Reed left. He will be back later. You go shower. I will bring you ginger tea.”
Isla padded into the bathroom and flipped on the light. She cringed at her reflection. You look like a deranged clown. She turned the faucet on until steam billowed around her. Isla hoped Rosa would bring more than tea, maybe a burger with Parmesan fries. She’d love a shot of Kentucky bourbon, too.
Isla noticed most of her aches were gone. Whatever voodoo elixir Rosa gave her, it worked. Isla felt great. She hummed a ditty; her hips swayed under the water while she lathered up her hair.
In the middle of her dance party, reality dripped soap in her eyes and the events played out in her mind.
Reed.
Ronan dead.
Ellis.
Jules arriving at the safe house with Henry.
Ronan dead.
Reed.
Can’t forget about Kata, Martha, or Crosby’s father. I have to call Carys. She had to tell her what she’d heard and seen. She was confident Ronan and Martha’s disappearances would stir up suspicion, but knowing Ellis, he’d planned it all out and pinned it on someone. Protecting Jules is what mattered. Martin was volatile and had aligned with God-only-knows who.
I’m going to beat the hell out of Joe. Snake. Maybe he was the one after her. Made sense. He was the perfect blend of Zagotta thug and Sutton savvy. She hated that she didn’t get to speak with Jules or Henry before their departure. Ellis’s death omen didn’t ease Isla’s worries. Too much was out of her control.
She finished her shower. Clothes were laid out on the made bed. Isla lifted the forest green lounger and camisole. More silk, but at least it was pants. Isla dressed, and as she did, she checked out the room in greater detail. There was no clock or phone. No television. His safe house was not equipped for a tween girl.
Rosa opened the door holding a tray of food.
“You look refreshed.”
“I feel human again, thank you.”
Rosa sat the tray down on the side table. “Vegetarian chili and roasted eggplant melt.”
“Sounds . . . healthy.”
Isla picked up the bowl and sank into the recliner. She sniffed the chili as spicy steam curled around her. The robust aroma tempted her appetite. Rosa sat down on the loveseat. Isla didn’t know if she was aware of Jules’s impending arrival. Would Henry stay as well? What would he think of Ronan’s death? Henry hated him just as much as Isla, but Ronan was his father. He was careful not to see her right after she escaped Walker Plantation, but once enough time had passed—when Isla started her third trimester— Henry relocated them to Montana. When Jules celebrated her second birthday, they moved to the ranch in Colorado. It was there that Isla decided it was time to visit Carys.
Carrying the Pierce name would give Isla the power she needed to destroy Ronan. Over the years, she’d circled and picked at him like a piranha. The prey was now the predator. His IT department was no match for her advanced computer skills or the malicious code she fired off to his servers. It was around the time the Stuxnet computer worm was released into the wild, so the authorities lumped it in with the worm.
Idiots.
Isla backed off Ronan as Ellis contracted her for more jobs. Fight and protect was Pierce code. After Reed had slipped the wedding band on, her training started. Isla was taught to shoot by an ex-FBI agent, and her instructor at the gym trained some of the best UFC fighters. She excelled and practiced until each target was hit and takedown flawless.
The pull of the trigger along with the bloody, swollen lips was her therapy. Discussing her abuse on a stranger’s rigid couch did nothing for her but push the trauma deeper. Jules didn’t deserve a broken mother. She deserved a mother who fought to keep the evils of the world away from her.
Cross-legged like a child, Isla devoured her food and listened to Rosa share stories of her family back in Gotland, Sweden, a quaint island in the Baltic Sea. She was Erik’s aunt, which explained their spirited interaction.
“I have known the Pierces for many years. Reed and Carys are good kids.”
“What of the other two? I’ve never heard much about them. I didn’t even know this house existed.”
“Jealousy. The eldest son and daughter always have more say in the business. The Pierces are protective of their privacy, especially after the affair. Ellis never forgave his wife.”
“Is that what happened?”
Rosa nodded.
“Who was it?”
“Reed walked in on his mother and another man. She begged him not to tell Ellis. He did, and when she was banished from their home, Reed blamed himself. I believe he still does.”
“Jesus, can’t people keep their pants zipped in this family?
Isla understood guilt. The house of mirrors and its reflective torment. No matter which way Isla turned, the echoes of shame confined her.
“Ellis says, love is a fast way to die.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Love is to live.” Rosa patted her chest. “Love makes us better. Do you love?”
Isla said nothing. She brushed crumbs from her fingers onto the plate.
“I believe you do,” Rosa said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I love. I show you love, then you show him love.”
Rosa retrieved the empty plate from Isla’s lap and waved off any further protest. The bedroom door cracked open; Reed stuck his head inside. “May I come in?”
Talk about timing.