Mateus arrives on Karina’s heels and places two glasses of wine beside our plates. “Saúde,” he says with a wink.

Isabel smirks as he leaves. “Why do I get the feeling he wants us to get along?”

“He likes to meddle. I had no idea how much until I brought you here.”

“How long have you been friends?”

I tense at the warmth she attaches to the term. It’s both foreign and uncomfortable, much like the way she makes me feel.

“Almost as long as I can remember,” I finally say between bites.

Isabel is quiet for a moment. “So not long, then.”

“We met a few years ago. Right after I came to Brazil. Things were different then.”

“How?”

I internally berate myself for opening the door to her question. But the more we share with one another, the less I seem to worry about the vulnerability the truth creates. Our days may be numbered. If she doesn’t die by my hand, Jay’s people will get to her. What does it matter what she knows?

“I was figuring out my life here. I accepted his friendship before I realized how inconvenient they could be.”

“Friends?”

“Friends. Lovers. Essentially anyone who knows my name becomes a liability.”

I laugh to myself at the sudden irony that, until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know my own surname. I was reborn as Tristan Red the second my boots hit the ground in Rio for the first time. I have official documents with a dozen aliases, but Red is how most of the people in my world know me.

My given name is like my past. Good to know but largely irrelevant. I can never be Tristan Stone again. Isabel has to finally believe this now.

“I go by Tristan Red, by the way. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t introduce me to random strangers though.”

Her cheeks redden. “Sorry.”

I point to her full plate. “I thought you were starving.”

She exhales a deep breath and nods. We spend the next few minutes devouring Karina’s masterpiece. I shouldn’t feel so unguarded, but between the heavy meal and the atmosphere, I’m feeling at ease. Relaxed, even.

As we finish, she gestures to the couch and offers a hopeful smile. “Do you want to sit?”

“Sure.”

Together, we move to the other side of the den where Mateus scolded me only a night ago. I refill our wineglasses, unable to stop from dwelling on the photos he showed me.

Meanwhile Isabel sits in an adjacent chair. I cross the room as she tucks her legs under her. In her flowy white dress, she’s nothing short of a miracle. An impossibility.

She sips her wine and holds it on her tongue before swallowing.

“Do you like it?”

She smiles. “I do.”

I sit on the couch and try not to feel like the silence is a physical thing, creeping in, beckoning me to break it and ask Isabel all the questions I should be.

“So,” she says, “what should we talk about?”

Her voice is tentative, and I don’t blame her after this afternoon. I should rip the Band-Aid off. Get this over with so we can both move on.

“You said my mother worked in Baltimore. If your dad works at the Pentagon, we were nowhere close. How did we meet?”

Her eyes light up. “I was your tutor.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I took a bus twice a week to tutor English and Spanish at an inner-city high school in Baltimore. I was trying to rack up community-service hours for my college résumé. That, and I was looking for any excuse to get out of Alexandria.”

I can’t hold back a laugh. “You were my tutor?”

“You were failing English before you met me,” she says. “By the end of the year, you were on the honor roll.”

“I suppose you think you had something to do with it.”

She bites her lip with a smile. “I motivated you.”

I try not to get hung up on all the ways she could have inspired my good grades. I’m guessing the eighteen-year-old version of me would have crawled across hot coals for an hour under her tutelage.

Because Isabel is more than a beautiful woman. She’s fierce and kind, and I’m certain those are only a few of the layers of the person before me. She can’t seem to say much without hitting a nerve, but I’m beginning to appreciate the reward. The truth. Even her dangerous affection for me is something I’ve found myself looking forward to experiencing during our brief time together.

“So your parents must have loved that. Falling for a boy on the wrong side of the tracks.”

She traces her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “At some point, I decided to just do what I wanted. Even if it was a little scary. Even if it made my parents furious. It is my life, after all.”

“It was puppy love, Isabel. Hardly worth upsetting your parents.”

She narrows her eyes. “It was more than puppy love. A lot more. And it was worth it. Even though it nearly broke me.”

I clench my jaw. We’re edging into territory I’m not used to. Feelings. Heartache. Love.

“We were young,” I say.

I’m not sure if I should end this now. Every exploration into my past seems to trip over the inconvenient truth that Isabel and I were once in love.

Before I can come up with a better diversion, Isabel rises from her chair and walks to me. I stare up at her as she stands before me. I can’t decide if she’s more angel or goddess at this moment.

“We still are young, you know.”

Her knee nudges mine. Playfully, suggestively. I’m drawn to her so completely, I can’t stop myself. I feather the tops of my fingers over her soft skin. The contact reverberates through me, dares me to do more, feel more.

Before I can, she leans in and sits astride me, sucking the air out of the room as our bodies meet. Her hands on my chest, her warmth covering me… I’ve never known this kind of temptation.

“Isabel…” I consider pushing her off but stiffen my hands into fists on either side of my thighs instead. If I keep touching her, I’ll never stop.

“It wasn’t that complicated, Tristan.” Her voice is soothing, echoing through me like an old song. She looks into my eyes like she knows me. Really knows me. In ways I don’t even know myself. “Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Girl decides she’ll break all the rules to be with the boy.” Sadness hits her eyes. “Boy breaks girl’s heart. Girl never recovers.”

“Girl was probably better off,” I whisper.

“Probably. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be able to love another man the way I loved you. Doesn’t change the way you destroyed me, Tristan. Or that I’d do anything to feel it all again. Anything.”

Her lips are a fraction away from mine. I attempt a sobering breath but get her essence instead. Then her lips, her taste, as our torsos and mouths melt together.

I inhale as her tongue flickers over mine. God, it’s all too fucking good to resist. And her scent… Something about it hits my senses in a new way. It’s familiar. Cocoa and vanilla and something else. Something I can’t quite reach with my thoughts until a field of deceivingly innocent red flowers projects onto the bright-white screen of my mind.

Poppies. As far as the eye can see.

She glides one hand along my neck and into my hair, fisting gently as her body undulates above me.

I open my eyes abruptly and break the kiss. “What are you doing?”

“I’m remembering you, Tristan,” she rasps against my lips.

I swear every solitary sound that comes from the woman decimates my better judgment. Even as my brain screams at me to stop this madness, I answer with a fevered kiss. Because I can’t resist the way she says my name, like a siren song luring me closer to her, deeper into the sensations.

My fists ball and release a few more times before I can’t fight it anymore. My fingertips meet her ankles and trail up her calves. She lifts the bottom of my T-shirt and slides her other hand up my bare chest, triggering everything else. My blood. My cock. Even my pendulum heart, racing like a fucking fool.

I close my eyes again, and suddenly we’re in a dark room. Cold, save the scorching press of our bodies. She’s naked, covered in shadows. Her fingernails dig into my flesh as I rock into her.

“Touch me. Tristan…please.”

I can’t tell if it is really her or the echo of a memory. I open my eyes and flood the vision with the golden glow of Isabel in the candlelight. Pure carnal lust drives me as I palm her knees apart, forcing her wider over me. She whimpers, and that single sound punches through the wall between reality and my hazy past. I make the final journey up her thighs, cup her ass, and haul her hard against me.

She gasps and grinds down on me, eliciting a groan that tears from my chest and rumbles inside our next kiss. It’s rough and desperate. It’s a flood of her perfect taste. I tease my thumbs along the edges of her panties. My head buzzes with the promise of tasting more of her… All of her. Every inch.

She’s moaning my name. Clawing my bare skin and nipping at my lips like a kitten demanding affection. I’m ready to give her all I have when I hear a sound that isn’t Isabel’s.

Karina’s figure hovers in the doorway. “Oh. I— I’m so sorry.”

She disappears as quickly as she appeared, but I’m frozen, jarred by Isabel’s ability to distract me so completely. Her lips are parted and swollen from my rough kisses. Her touch is no less divine, no less addictive. And deep down I know we’re reliving a memory so potent I’ll never be the same if I get inside her.

Against every base instinct, I draw my hands away.

“We can’t do this.” My voice is tight with lingering desire.

I will my palms to relish the worn leather over her silken skin. I can’t feed this fantasy. I can’t get this close to her.

I don’t know how or when, but I feel like I’ve endured torture less painful than the act of pulling away from her. Gradually, I unwind, withdraw, let go…

Pushing her aside, I rise to my feet, not feeling entirely in control of myself. I’m out of breath and my body is fucking rioting. Nothing has ever felt so dangerous. I pace away and shove my hands through my hair.

“Tristan…”

Turning back, I see her flushed, perched on the edge of the couch, her dress bunched up around her thighs. An intoxicating mix of lust and anguish play on her features. Both turn me on in equal measure.

“We can’t,” I say firmly.

“You feel it too. I know you do.”

I clench my jaw, refusing to show her how true her words are. If she knew what a single touch did to me, she’d never stop pushing for more. She’d push until I break, and I’m ready to fucking snap. This has to end. Here and now.

“You have no idea what I feel. I’m nothing more than a stranger. Do you fuck strangers, Isabel?”

She flinches like I’ve struck her.

“You’re not a stranger. I know you…”

I take a couple steps toward her. She stiffens but doesn’t recoil the way she should. She should fear me more, but I’m not sure our history will ever allow it. I stare down at her, ignoring the way my fingertips heat and prickle to touch her again.

“The Tristan you knew died years ago. He was shot full of bullets, brought back to life, and never thought about you again. I never stayed up late at night wondering what you were doing or if you were hurting. I didn’t get off to thoughts of us. You were nonexistent to me. Nothing.” I draw in a steeling breath that burns my lungs. “And that’s never going to change.”

Her cheeks bloom a deeper shade of poppy red. Her jaw falls open slightly and shuts again. Silently I beg her to believe me.

The muffled sound of Tristan’s voice wakes me out of a restless sleep. I blink a few times. He’s somewhere else in the house, probably talking to Mateus. I’m relieved and instantly heartbroken.

I went to bed alone last night, reeling from his confession. Every word cut into me like a blade. The emptiness in his eyes offered no remorse.

I mean nothing to him, and I never will. I’m the key to a locked door. A means to an end. Nothing more. All I can do is leave, lick my wounds, and wish I’d never left Rio with him. The anguish of it all has me wide awake again, despite the latent fatigue.

Morning has brightened the sky beyond my barred window. My heart sinks knowing I have to face this day. Tristan’s rejection is fresh, lingering in my psyche the way his touch lingers on my skin. I kick away the sheets with a frustrated sigh, embarrassed for coming on to him in the first place. What the hell was I thinking…

I wasn’t thinking. I was only feeling, reaching for magic we once had. For those few intoxicating moments, wrapped in each other, I believed we were the old us. And I was flying without a parachute, high on the way he responded to my touch, the sounds vibrating through our bodies, the familiarity of it all.

I groan and roll into my pillow. Doesn’t matter if he still kissed me like he wanted to swallow me whole or touched me like he might tear me apart with the passion he felt. In the end, none of it mattered.

It never will.

I rise slowly and change into clean clothes. I look down at my bag, messy from living out of it for the past couple of days. Maybe today will be the day Tristan lets me leave. How many more memories will he pull from me before it’s enough? How much deeper can he push the blade?

In the back of my mind, I think of Kolt. I miss his friendship and the way he always made me feel safe when he was near, even if I could never give him my heart. I took what I wanted and rejected the rest. I let him chase me and feel more for me than I could ever return. Worse, I disappeared without a trace…

A draining kind of discontent burdens my steps as I go down the hall toward the voices.

“We should consider leaving.”

Mateus’s words slow my approach outside the kitchen.

“We? You mean me?”

“No. All of us. I have a bad feeling.”

“Why now? Have you heard something?” There’s an edge to Tristan’s voice that wasn’t there before.

“You know I have eyes and ears everywhere. No signs of trouble, but—”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Mateus laughs nervously. “No one is ever safe, Tristan. You know that. They’ll be here before we know there’s trouble. I have a place a few hours south of here. We can stay there until we know more.”

I hear someone shuffling around. I hold my breath and stay still. Silence. Then the sound of a coffee pot sliding out of its cradle and back again.

“You can’t keep a roof over our heads forever,” Tristan says.

“You need time with her.”

Tristan is quiet for a moment. “I think I have all I need now.”

Mateus makes an exasperated sound. “Already?”

“I can figure out the rest on my own.”

“And what about Isabel?”

When Tristan falls silent again, my skin chills.

“Don’t be stupid, Tristan,” Mateus snaps.

“Don’t be stupid? I’ll probably be dead in a month. The people who want her gone won’t give up. Not if we leave here. Not if we find a hundred other places to hide out. They’ll want me a thousand times more than they want her for everything I know.”

“And you know their tricks. You can outmaneuver them. You can keep her safe.”

“Maybe,” Tristan mutters. “Maybe not.”

The chill morphs into a wave of sickness twisting in my gut. Someone wants me dead. And the love of my life doesn’t even care.

“Karina saw you together last night,” Mateus finally says.

“I know.”

My cheeks heat, knowing we’d been caught.

“You care for her.”

“I want to fuck her. It’s animal attraction. Nothing more. And last night was a mistake I have no intention of repeating. I was relieved that Karina interrupted us. I can’t seem to…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Tristan’s voice is barely audible.

My heart starts to race. Last night’s humiliation feels even more raw now. I should go before they find me eavesdropping on their conversation. But Mateus’s sense of urgency has me planted where I stand, desperate to learn more and find out our next steps.

“Do what you wish. You know what I think. Be ready at noon if you want to come with us.”

I don’t wait to hear more. I retreat to the bedroom. My thoughts sprint through what I need to do. Pack what little I have. Find Tristan or appeal to Mateus. Maybe he’ll take me with him. I can’t trust Tristan’s heart.

I throw my toiletries in my bag with the few clothes I brought. The sound of a vehicle rolling over the gravel in the front drive draws my attention up. I glance through the window as a black Hummer idles near the gate. The armed guard is speaking to the driver obscured behind the vehicle’s tinted windows, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

Then the guard’s head jerks back violently with a sharp pop, and he collapses onto the ground. I slap my hand over my mouth to mask my scream at the sight of his wound gushing onto the chalky white stones.

The second guard lifts his automatic weapon and gets a few shots off before he’s given the same fate—a single answering crack of the air that sends his gun and limbs flailing. He drops like a ragdoll to the ground only a few feet away from his post. My shaking hand closes tightly around my pendant. I try to scream, but I’m frozen in place until the Hummer lurches into motion toward the house.

“Tristan. Tristan!”

I grab my bag and run to the kitchen to find him, but he’s gone.

“Tristan!”

I spin around and run into the sitting room, finding it empty too. I scream his name again, unable to control the violent shaking of my limbs. Finally the back door opens and Tristan is there, his eyes wide with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re here. They killed them. The guards. They’re dead. Oh my God, Tristan. They just shot them both.”

He grabs me by the arms. His eyes turn from blue silver to dark steel. “Who? Who shot them?”

I can only shake my head and swallow over my tears. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “But I think they’re coming for us.”

Mateus rushes into the room, eyes wide.

Tristan looks up. “We have to go. Right now. Get Karina.”

Mateus exhales in a rush. “She’s gone… She went into town to get a few things before we left.”

Tristan hesitates. Precious seconds pass as he quietly assesses the other man. “Who the fuck did you tell?”

Mateus pales. “No one, Tristan. I would never put you in danger. Not after what you did for me.”

Tristan pulls a gun out of his waistband and points it square at him, shoving me to the side. “You’re lying. I know the price on her head. What’s mine?”

Mateus takes a tentative step forward, halting when Tristan cocks the gun. My heart lodges in my throat.

Mateus speaks quietly. “That’s not what happened. You have to trust me. I would never betray you.”

“I don’t trust anyone, and you know it.”

Mateus lifts his hands in surrender. “Money will never turn my alliances. I have no reason to bring harm on you.”

Tristan’s jaw is tight. “No? Getting rid of me wipes the debt. And it’s a pretty big fucking debt, if I recall.”

Mateus doesn’t move. His expression is steady. “A debt you’ve never called, friend.”

I jolt at the sound of two car doors slamming in close succession, but neither men flinch. Voices outside. Footsteps on stone. Then I can only hear my own heartbeat pumping blood and adrenaline through my veins. My throat tightens with panic. I don’t know who to trust, but the bad guys who want at least two of us dead are mere seconds away.

“Tristan. We need to get out of here.”

“She’s right,” Mateus says evenly. “If your comrades make it through the front door, none of it will matter. They’ll kill us all.”

Comrades?

What the hell has Tristan gotten us into? The phantom demons he’s been talking about have suddenly become real. If I thought I was living a nightmare before, I’m certain I’ve just arrived at the gates of hell.

Tristan grimaces tightly. “Where’s the car?”

“Downstairs. Keys are in the ignition.”

Tristan gestures with the tip of his gun toward the hallway. “Let’s go. Move.”

I manage a relieved exhale as we move together through the house. Tristan pauses at a second bedroom, where he retrieves his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“This way.” Mateus opens the door to a basement stairway that leads us to a dark and dingy garage.

In it sits a cream-colored classic car that looks like it’s decades old but in mint condition.

“You’re kidding me,” Tristan says.

“It’s fast,” Mateus assures him, slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tristan tugs my backpack off.

“No, I need this,” I say, my voice trembling badly.

“I know you do. But you need to go with Mateus.” He rounds to the back of the car, pops the hatchback open and, after a few seconds, closes my backpack in it, slinging his own bag over his shoulder again.

“What are you going to do?” I ask shakily.

My breathing is ragged as he walks toward me. I feel like I could pass out. When my fingers start tingling, I worry that I might. Tristan seems eerily calm, though.

“I’m going to stay here and take care of this,” he says.

I shake my head violently. “No. Come with us. You have to get out of here. They’ll kill you.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it. I’ll meet you after.”

Mateus looks up at us through the rolled-down window. “There’s a safe house in town where we can stay until the coast is clear. It’s near—”

“Fuck your safe house.” Tristan’s anger breaks his calm but eases when he looks back to me.

My brain whirls and stutters until it lands on at least one place I’d rather be than here under siege.

“I know a place,” I say quickly.

Tristan stills, his gaze locked to mine.

“From yesterday.” I touch below my right eye, hoping he picks up the hint.

He nods slightly and looks down at Mateus. “Drop her at the edge of town. She knows the rest of the way.” Then he curves his hand firmly at my nape, forcing me closer. His voice drops to a whisper. “Don’t let him follow you. And don’t fucking talk to anyone. Blend in. Understand? I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” I can barely get out the next words. “What if something happens to you?”

I can’t lose you again…

“I put your phone and some money in your backpack. Get out of Brazil as fast as you can. If you can’t talk your way out of it, don’t be afraid to get creative. Bribes always help.”

My eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets when he presses the gun into my hand. “Take this. Feel free to shoot him if you need to.”

“Tristan, I can’t.”

“You do what you want, remember? You’re braver than you realize.” His hands fall away. “One more thing. It’s important.”

“What?”

His expression hardens. “There’s a red notebook in your bag. If I don’t come back, give it to your father. No one else.”

Another bang sounds from upstairs. My heart nearly flies out of my chest.

“Now get the fuck out of here.”

He steps away, and I rush on shaking legs to the passenger side, joining Mateus in the car. He starts the engine and rests his hand on the gear shift.

“Mateus.”

He looks up through the window. Tristan simultaneously leans in.

“If anything happens to her—”

“I know, Tristan. Trust me…I know.” Mateus looks away, presses the garage opener, and stares ahead. “Take care of yourself, my friend.”