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  I let my emotions get the best of me in that case. After he killed Tito, I wanted him to suffer. To die a horrible death, rather than simply just die. I should have put two in his head and ended it before I left that night. But I saw him struggling to breathe. I saw him struggling to hold onto life, and it made me glad.

  I left him there to bleed out and die in agony, and he’d recovered.

  It’s one of my biggest failings and one my father never let me live down. It’s a failing he took every opportunity to remind me of. But it was a tremendous learning experience for me. It’s where I started to be able to separate my emotion from my work. It’s where I learned that emotion has no place in my line of work.

  I also learned a lot about Redmond in that time. As much as my father would like to see me just go charging in, guns blazing, and cut him down in a hail of bullets, I know it won’t be that easy. I know the sort of training Redmond had as a member of Force Recon. I know what sort of training he had as a U.S. Marshal. I know he’s tough. He’s skilled.

  And I know that he’s dangerous.

  I came to realize that I’d been lucky to get so close to killing him that night. The fact that he took out four of our men – including my brother – all on his own should have been my first clue. But I’d been younger. Back then, I’d been more headstrong, more emotional, and more prone to letting that emotion get the better of me.

  I was lucky to get the drop on him, and if I hadn’t gotten behind him, I probably wouldn’t be standing here right now, truth be told. I don’t doubt that Redmond would have killed me in a fair one-on-one fight. He’s that good.

  Which is why I’m waiting for more of my men to arrive. I am not going to take him on all by myself. It would be suicide. It would be foolish. As much as I want to see him dead, I’m not going to be stupid about it. I’m waiting for my men, and we’ll come up with a plan as soon as we find out where he lives and what we’ll be up against.

  We’re going to need a good plan. A smart plan. A plan that gives us the advantage and minimizes our risk while taking advantage of any weak spots in his own defense. We need to get the drop on him as much as I had that night all those years ago. It’s going to be tougher, given the fact that he knows I’m here in town, hunting for the girl. But we have to find a way to make it happen.

  It’s the only way we’re going to beat him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Isla

  After taking a long, leisurely shower, I prowl around the house for a bit. I drink more coffee, then go wander through the remnants of the snow with Stabler. I tried sitting down in the library and indulging myself in a book, but I don’t have the attention span for it right now. I’m anxious, but I don’t know why. For some reason, I’m feeling unsettled and like something big is on its way. Something bad.

  Stabler stays by my side as I wander the house aimlessly. I find my way into Baker’s office and think about going online to read some news, but my picture clipped to a file on his desk grabs my attention. I look at it for a long moment, then sit down in his chair and start to flip through the file.

  Each and every page I read starts off sounding like something from a Hollywood script and not like my life at all. Everything from my brother Rory, to his involvement with the cartel, to my current status on the run. It’s nothing Baker hasn’t told me already – he never tried to varnish the truth with me. But it still doesn’t feel real.

  And yet, as I sit there, reading the file from cover to cover – I read every single page in that file – my body feels numb, and I stare at it in total disbelief. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, the words and pages floating through my mind. I try to reconcile what I read with what I feel, and there’s nothing but a total disconnect in my head.

  Although there is a ring of truth that I feel resonating within me, I don’t know the names of most of the people, don’t recognize the places. No matter how many different ways I try to turn it over in my head, it just doesn’t feel like my life.

  I get up and walk out to the kitchen. I pour myself another cup of coffee and toss Stabler one of his treats. He chuffs softly at me and turns in a circle. I assume that means he needs to go potty, so I put on my shoes and take him out into the backyard. He sprints away and runs through the yard, barking at all of the birds, gleefully prancing around, which brings a smile to my face.

  I take a sip of coffee and watch as the steam curls upward and into the air. As I stand there, I look out over the forest beyond the walls, trying to summon the sense of peace and tranquility I feel whenever I’m out in nature.

  As I stand there though, I feel something in my head shift. It feels like somebody physically turned a key in a lock and opened a door inside my brain. The hinges are rusted, and I hear a squeal inside my head as it swings inward. Once the door is open, a flood of thoughts and images come rushing out all at once. It’s jumbled, scrambled, and makes no sense at first. It’s overwhelming, and I cry out, dropping the coffee mug. It lands in a soft patch of powder, the warm, dark liquid spilling out and melting the snow around it.

  The images in my head start to resolve themselves. It’s like a picture that had been out of focus that begins to come into sharp relief, and I realize that it’s all of my memories. I think back and can recall my childhood. I remember having a dog when I was six. I remember my first day of high school. My first boyfriend. I remember my first kiss. I remember my first broken heart. I remember the time I broke my arm falling out of a tree. I remember the sports I played. School plays. Everything.

  I also remember my life on the run. I remember why I’m on the run, and the absolute rage I feel at my brother for putting me in this position. I know that my last words to him were words of anger. Rage. I remember saying some of the most horrible things to him and not feeling bad about it.

  I still don’t feel bad about it. My brother blew up my life and turned it into something I never planned on. Something I never wanted.

  The crush of memory is thick, deep, and powerful. Tears roll down my face, and I sink to my knees. I bury my face in my hands and sob, both with the relief at having my memories return, but more so because I remember who I am. I remember everything that happened in my life that’s made me the person I am today. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

  Stabler is beside me, licking at my hands, tasting the tears that squeeze out from between my fingers. I reach out and hug the big dog, crying into his fur. He wiggles and whimpers but lets me do what I need to do.

  “Isla, what’s wrong?”

  The next thing I know, Baker is kneeling on the ground beside me, pulling me to him. I wrap my arms around his body and let myself go. I sob and wail uncontrollably. He holds me close, planting kisses on the top of my head, stroking my hair, and telling me everything is going to be okay. I take comfort in his body pressed to mine, draw strength from him.

  I don’t even know how long we sit like that, with me clinging to him like a drowning person might cling to a life preserver. It felt like hours, but I’m sure it was only a matter of minutes. Through it all though, Baker is patient. Kind. He’s compassionate and is content to just let me cry it out.

  Eventually, the tears dry though. My breathing and heart slow, getting back to normal. It takes time, but I eventually return to normal – or, at least, whatever passes for normal with me. I look up at Baker and see the care and concern in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Isla?”

  I shake my head. Is anything really wrong? I mean, it touched off an emotional bomb within me, but I’m back to myself. I have my memories back, and for better or worse, I’m whole again.

  “I remember,” I whisper.

  He cocks his head. “Remember what?”

  “Everything,” I tell him. “I remember everything. I have my memories back, Baker.”

  “Isla, that’s great,” he says.

  I nod and smile at him. “I remember who I am.”

  He pulls me close to him, crushing me in his tight embrace. It feel
s so right to be so close to him, and I draw not just strength, but comfort from his touch. Baker helps me to my feet, and I let him guide me into the house. My legs are weak, and my body is still numb, but the shock of it all is beginning to wear off.

  Baker sets me down in a chair in the kitchen and quickly pours me another cup of coffee. I wrap my hands around the mug for warmth, trying to infuse my body with it, while driving out the cold and numb feeling that permeates me from head to toe. After fixing himself a mug, he sits down in the chair across from me.

  “What happened?” he asks. “I mean, did you do anything different that helped you –”

  I shake my head, cutting him off. “No – I mean, I read the file you have in your office –”

  “You read Walt’s file?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I was going to use the computer to read the news, but then I saw the file,” I admit. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I read it. Cover to cover. Twice.”

  He sighs and runs his hand through his short, dark hair and looks at me. “I’m sorry you read that,” he sighs. “That wasn’t meant for you. I’m sure it was a big shock for you to read.”

  I nod, a wry smile on my lips. “Yeah, you could say that,” I say. “But I think it’s the key that unlocked the door in my head. I really do.”

  “And – how do you feel about what you read?”

  I sigh and take a swallow of coffee, trying to arrange my thoughts into something that approaches coherency, but find that I can’t really manage it just yet.

  “I think the biggest thing I feel is guilt,” I tell him.

  “What do you have to feel guilty about?” he asks. “You did nothing wrong. This whole shit show was dropped on you, Isla. It’s not your fault.”

  “No, I know. I just – the last words I said to my brother were hateful. Hurtful,” I confess. “I slammed my door in his face.”

  “It’s an understandable reaction,” he says. “I mean, you were upset. You’re still upset, and you have every right to be.”

  “That’s the thing though, I feel guilty for not feeling guilty,” I explain. “That I don’t feel anything but anger and contempt for my brother – what kind of a person am I?”

  “You’re human, Isla,” he says gently. “You are entitled to your feelings. Hell, I know if somebody had done that to me, I wouldn’t forgive them. I’d take that anger to my grave. So, I’m not going to judge you.”

  “And then there’s Tommy,” I sigh. “I didn’t love him – I didn’t feel anything for him really – but, he sacrificed himself to save me. He died protecting me. I don’t know how to reconcile that.”

  He lets out a long breath and runs a big hand across his face. “I don’t know what to say about that, Isla,” he replies. “All I can do is be here for you to help you get through it.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek, and I look up at him. “He’s the father of my child, and I don’t feel anything for him?” I ask. “More and more, I’m beginning to think I’m just not a very good person. You might want to get away from me, Baker. I’m damaged.”

  He’s kneeling next to my chair and takes my hands in his in a flash. I look down at him and see nothing but compassion in that rugged, masculine face of his.

  “We’re all damaged, Isla,” he tells me. “We all have our baggage. But, one thing you need to get out of your head right now is that you’re not a good person. You are. You’re an amazing person. You truly are.”

  I shake my head, trying to deny it. “I’m not though. I hate my brother, and I feel nothing for the father of my child,” I sniffle. “That doesn’t scream good person to me.”

  “It screams human to me. You’re entitled to your feelings about your brother,” he says softly. “And you can’t make yourself feel something for somebody if you don’t. You can’t force your heart to feel something it doesn’t.”

  Strength and compassion flows from his hands into mine. It flows from his words into my ear and into my heart. The way he’s looking at me makes my heart swell. I want to believe him, believe that I’m not the monster I feel like I am, but I’m having trouble reconciling it.

  He pulls me to my feet and guides me down the hallway. “I’m going to haul in everything I picked up today,” he says gently. “Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower?”

  I laugh ruefully. “I took one earlier.”

  He grins. “Take another one. Wash away all that crap sitting on your shoulders. Maybe it’ll help.”

  I give him a soft smile and a nod. I head into the bathroom as he heads back out to the front of the house to unload his truck. I slowly strip down, trying to focus my thoughts and trying to push away all of the negative garbage that’s weighing me down. It’s not easy. As much as it frustrated me to not have my memories, having them back has unleashed a torrent of crap inside of me I’m not really equipped to deal with at the moment.

  As I step under the cascade of hot water, I try to clear my mind. I try to let the rush of warmth sluice away all of my troubles and negative feelings. I find myself wishing I was as blank as I was when I couldn’t remember anything.

  As I clear my mind though, Baker steps in to fill it. I see his face. Hear his voice. I feel his body pressed to mine, and I feel him inside of me. Those are the memories I want to keep my head filled with. Those are the memories I want to build on.

  Those thoughts give way to another – that everything I feel for Baker is real. That deep passion and intense compulsion is all real. Everything I didn’t feel for Tommy, I do feel for Baker. I remember that checklist I’ve always had in my mind when contemplating romantic relationships and realize that Baker checks almost all of the boxes on that list. He really does seem to be as close to perfect for me, as close to everything I’ve wanted in a partner, as anybody I’ve ever met.

  Baker fills me with an intense energy I’ve never experienced before. A passion and a light I’ve never known. I remember being told that I’m unrealistic and too idealistic in my wants for a partner. That the person I want doesn’t exist. That I need to settle for somebody who comes close and checks more of those boxes than they don’t.

  That sort of thinking is how I ended up with Tommy in the first place. That’s how I ended up in a relationship with a man who was less than I wanted. I was lonely and settled rather than hold out for what – and who – I truly wanted. It’s not that Tommy is – was – a bad guy. He wasn’t. He just wasn’t what I wanted. I settled for less. And now, I’m carrying his child.

  “You doing okay in there?”

  Baker’s voice echoes around the bathroom, startling me. More than that, the deep, rumbling timbre of his voice sends an electric charge through me. It makes my heart swell and excites me in ways I never knew possible.

  Acting impulsively, I step around the wall of the walk-in shower and stand before Baker, naked and dripping wet – both from the shower and the lust and desire flowing through me. Baker stands there looking at me for a moment, surprised. That surprise though, is brief and is soon replaced by that hunger in his eyes that fuels the passion within me.

  I crook my finger at him, beckoning him toward me. “Take off your clothes.”

  Baker quickly strips out of his clothing, kicking his shoes across the bathroom – his shirt, pants, and boxers soon joining them. He stands before me entirely naked, and I take a moment to admire him. I let my eyes travel up and down the hard planes and angles of his sculpted physique. The muscles in his arms and legs are tightly corded, and his skin is smooth. The ink on his chest and arms is beautifully done – the only thing marring his perfect body are the scars from his past. Yet, even those somehow manage to add to his allure.

  I run the tip of my tongue around my lips and step behind the wall to wait for him. A moment later, Baker joins me in the shower, stepping beneath the cascade of water. Baker pulls me to him, wrapping me up in those big, strong arms of his. Our kiss is firm, full of heat and passion. Our tongues dance around with one another, and the feel of his hands on my body makes me explode with
sensation.

  I reach down and take hold of his cock in my hand. I stroke him firmly, gripping him as tight as I can, which draws a moan from his lips. The sound of his voice, his soft groaning rolls through me, making me tingle from head to toe.

  Baker kisses my neck, then slides his tongue down to my breasts. I gasp as the tip of his tongue flicks my stiff nipples as his strong, rough hands knead my breasts. I love the feeling of his hands on me, the passion he inspires in me. It’s what I’ve wanted my whole life, and now that I have it, I never want to let it go.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around the back of his neck as he picks me up. Our mouths are pressed together, our kiss growing in intensity as he thrust his cock past my velvety lips and deep inside of me.

  I gasp and moan his name softly as he starts to move within me. The way he fills me up and stretches me open, that perfect pinch of pain with the rush of pleasure – I never knew it could be this way. Baker pumps his hips, thrusting himself into me again and again. I dig my nails into his back, drawing a sharp breath from him.

  Our bodies move in perfect rhythm and harmony within each other. Our moans and groans combine to create an erotic symphony that makes the fires within me burn even brighter and higher. I lean down and bite his shoulder, making him moan my name.

  This is exactly what I needed. This life-affirming act, this transfer of energy is absolutely what I needed. That erotic energy fills me up and makes my heart swell to the point I fear it might burst.

  “Yes, Baker,” I say, my voice breathy. “God, yes. More.”

  My body tightens and tenses as he moves inside of me. He squeezes my ass as he holds me up. The feeling of having his mouth on me, his hands on my ass, and his cock inside of me makes my head spin. It makes me lightheaded, yet deliriously happy.

  Baker’s breathing grows ragged, and I feel him tense up along with me. We’re both hurtling toward the edge of bliss, and it’s going to be powerful. I clench my muscles around his cock, urging him on. Baker calls my name softly and thrusts himself deep inside of me in a slow, steady rhythm.