The Red Roots (9 page)

“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 to the safe house with Henry.

Ronan dead.

Reed.

Can’t forget about Kata or Crosby’s father.
I have to call Carys.
She had to tell her what she’d heard and seen. She was confident Ronan’s disappearance would stir up suspicions, 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 Zargotta 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 sunk down in 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. He was careful not to see her right after she escaped Walker Plantation but once enough time had passed—when Isla was starting her third trimester—Henry moved 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 slipped the wedding band on, 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 each takedown was flawlessly executed.

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 and blouses buttoned in this family?

Isla understood guilt. The house of mirrors, its reflective torment. No matter which way Isla turned, the echoes of shame confined her.

“Ellis say, love is a fast way to die.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Love is to live.” Rosa patted her chest. “Love makes us human. Do you love?”

Isla said nothing. She brushed crumbs from her fingers onto the plate.

“I believe you do.”

“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.

HE BROUGHT ISLA’S bag in with him and laid it on the loveseat. Rosa squeezed Reed’s arm before she left.

He walked deeper into the room. Isla’s lips tingled. Her mouth dried.

Rosa laced my food with some funky love poison. I know it.

Admitting how she felt terrified her but she didn’t want to run. She glanced down at her wedding band. Without him, she felt empty.

“You look scared.” Reed said.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“I have no self-control.”

“Good.”

Reed’s voice resonated inside her chest as she released a breath. His fingertips outlined her lips. Soft. Refined. Her awareness of him overwhelmed Isla. She’d been dead inside for years.

Lost.

Lost and scared.

A wrecked mess.

Visions of what Ronan had done—the lashings, the degradation—flashed. She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. Reed raised her gaze to his. He wasn’t Ronan. Reed wasn’t Ronan.

He isn’t Ronan.

Reed thumbed her tears. Smeared them into her skin. She blinked, and they came again. They overflowed her but didn’t drown her. Instead, they carried her closer to him.

He lowered his head brushing his lips along her collarbone. Isla tipped her head back. Reed’s hair tickled and brushed along her skin. His arms enveloped her waist. God, Reed’s touch took her higher.

He glided his hands beneath her shirt. Fingers dug into Isla’s sides.

Along her ribcage, her breast. Isla raised her arms—silk skated along her flesh. She ignored the slight twinge in her shoulder. The neckline glided over her face. Reed dropped it to the floor. Her arms lowered, spine shuddered, skin dampened. Isla wanted to be there with him, in the same emotional space, but fear caused her to pause.

Reed would see her disgrace. See what Ronan did to her. What she allowed him to do to her. Shame. Pure shame Isla couldn’t hide anymore. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stepped away from him.

His eyes narrowed.

Isla shook her head.

Reed moved closer.

Prickles swept across her skin.

He reached out to her. “What did Ronan do to you?”

Isla’s pulse flooded her ears. The earth fell away. She felt nothing as her feet pivoted slowly. Her back faced Reed. She hunched and closed her eyes. Intricate onyx wings covered her back—and her scars. Her skin weaved together into silver marks of persecution and ink. Each feather was knitted with precision. Many times Isla envisioned her black feathers extracting from her shoulder blades, the soft fringe lifting her up into the sky.

Cool air pranced along her exposed skin until she felt warmth, skin on skin. Tender fingertips traced the black feathers.

“Beautiful.” Reed whispered.

“I’m not.”

“You are. Don’t ever think or speak differently.”

His hands dropped to her waist. Reed’s hot breath floated along her skin. His lips grazed each scar. Slow. Excruciating. She stopped breathing for a moment.

He lowered.

Reed injected a cure for her despair and blame. He eliminated all her ghosts. Her secrets became his truths.

Silence cradled them.

Reed’s touch flowed through Isla, ripening her blood, bringing new life to her dormant heart. The empty spaces filled. Isla warmed. He flooded her. With every breath she took, Reed became a part of her, but panic shook her away from him. She wasn’t ready to be intimate. Isla set boundaries when she became his wife. The scars and the marks of beauty from her pregnancy, she kept covered.

Isla turned in his arms. “I can’t.”

Reed pulled her tight against him. Lips lingered. Isla wasn’t ready, though his touch divine, she needed more time. Intimacy was difficult for her. Isla never thought she’d have a connection with anyone. Ronan pounded into her with rage, violated her. He was dead but the marks would never go away. The memories would never go away. For a second, Isla felt like she was losing it. Tears rolled down her face. Reed motioned toward the mirror near the dresser. “Come with me.”

With one arm crossed over her breast and her across her abdomen, Reed guided her ahead of him, her back pressed against his shirt. He smoothed her hair away from her face, tucking loose strands behind her ear. His chin hovered above her shoulder.

“Let your arms drops.”

“No.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m trying,” Isla said, and tightened her arms until her breasts throbbed from the pressure.

“I won’t hurt you, Isla.”

“You will.”

Reed pressed his lips against her bandaged shoulder. “I won’t, not ever.”

Isla squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart raged through her veins. Isla uncrossed her arms. Her ample breasts exposed, silvery lines ran across her hips and stomach. Reed slid his hands down her arms; their gazes collided inside the mirror.

“He can never touch you again.”

Dark-eyed Reed trailed kisses along her neck, shoulder blade, and spine. His hands held her like precious stone or metal. He revered the curves that flowed and caressed her skin.

This was the humanity that dwelled inside Reed Pierce. This was the man she fell in love with.

Rosa was right.

She loved.

IN THE DARK and well into the early morning, Isla and Reed started over.

FOR THE BETTER part of a decade Isla adapted—not accepted—to the notion that Jules would not be able to come home. She’d remain in hiding with Henry until authoritative bounds held her no more.

A Will was drawn up leaving Henry in charge of Jules. It pained Isla not being with her daughter, and though the agony never ended within her heart, she made sure her eyes never gave her away. Expressions carved of stone deceived everyone, including her husband.