Race the Darkness (Fatal Dreams, #1)(37)
“You going to be around after I interview Isleen? We need to talk.”
“So talk.”
“Face-to-face. Asshole.” Anger sharpened Kent’s tone, but Xander didn’t care. Maybe talking on the phone was the way to handle the guy. No hearing his thoughts. No urge to go rage monkey.
“I’m busy.” He wasn’t intentionally antagonizing the guy. Okay, maybe just a little.
“Make time. I need some answers.”
“Here’s some answers for you. No. No. And, guess what? No.”
“I don’t have time for your shit. We’re pulling up to the house right now. Camille wants to see you. Be ready to talk when I’m done with Isleen.” Kent disconnected the call.
We’re pulling up to the house right now? Camille wants to see you? Xander did not just hear those words. Kent was not saying that Camille was with him. No. It was a joke. Yeah, because they always enjoyed a good laugh together.
“Shit!” he yelled. Camille was here. He’d never invited her to his place. Hell, she thought he lived at the main house. She had made the assumption that was why he never invited her here—didn’t want to welcome her into the family home for a fuck. She didn’t know he had his own cabin on the top of the hill.
He hadn’t expected Isleen and Camille’s worlds to collide—at least not this early. Xander knew exactly what Kent was doing. The guy wanted Camille to stake her claim in front of Isleen and force Xander to make a decision. The guy was an asshole for doing that to Isleen. A whole new level of low in Kent and Xander’s relationship was about to occur.
Xander yanked on a pair of jeans, the material scraping skin and hair off his damp legs. He jammed his feet into a pair of boots and sprinted for the main house.
*
She had yelled at Alex. Her words and tone hung in the air the way a piano chord still hums long after it has been struck.
A knock on the front door snapped all of their eyes and attention away from Isleen. Row headed across the house to answer the knock, while Matt and Alex left the table at the same time, both of them exiting the main house via a door underneath the balcony. Isleen stared down at her piled-mile-high plate that she’d only eaten two bites from, her appetite having disappeared.
“Isleen, you’ve got company,” Roweena said and moved in next to Isleen’s seat almost as if she were protecting her.
Isleen raised her eyes from the plate. The man from the hospital yesterday—she’d only seen him briefly—and a woman. They were a beautiful pair. Both had golden hair and stunning moss-colored eyes. He was classically handsome with sharp male features and carried a square-shaped duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She was the femininely beautiful version of him. Had to be brother and sister. She wore a dress the color of her eyes and a pair of heels that made her as tall as her sibling. She was stunning enough to be a model.
“You’re looking good.” The man’s gaze roamed over Isleen’s face, snagging just a moment on her forehead, then moving on to her hair. “You’ve made a miraculous recovery.”
“I do feel better.” She smiled at the pair. “I saw you yesterday, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Oh jeesh. Sorry. I’m Kent Knight. I work with Xander at the BCI—Bureau of Criminal Investigation. We’re handling your case.”
“My case? What case?”
“The investigation.” He paused. “Into your abduction—”
Isleen flinched at the word abduction, and Kent stopped speaking. Uncomfortable silence filled the space until the woman stepped forward.
“I’m Camille, this guy’s sister. I’m not with the Bureau. I’m just here to visit my boyfriend.” She smiled, showing off a mouthful of white teeth that gleamed so brightly they almost glowed blue. “Xander.”
Isleen’s heart went cold, pumping frigid blood through her body. Goose bumps erupted over her skin. She shivered. No, it wasn’t a shiver. She was trembling. She felt as if some prankster had just pulled the chair out from beneath her and she was falling, flailing, trying to catch herself before she splattered onto the ground. Xander has a girlfriend. A girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend.
Roweena put her hand on Isleen’s shoulder.
She looked down at her flowing, pale-blue sundress. Row had stocked Isleen’s closet with all kinds of clothes. Isleen had picked out the dress before she got in the shower because she wanted Xander to think she was pretty. But next to this woman, Isleen looked like a child. Camille had a sophistication that Isleen would never possess. How could Xander ever be attracted to her when he had Camille? Was that the real reason for his initial hesitation? He didn’t want to cheat on his girlfriend, but didn’t want to come right out and say it? Or maybe he wanted just to fuck her—his words—and then go back to his girlfriend.
Stupid. She’d been so stupid to think a fairy-tale happily ever after was going to happen to her. Gran had always said, “Loving men makes women messy.” Now Isleen knew what Gran meant.
“Camille. It’s so nice to meet you.” Her lips seemed numb when she spoke, but at least her voice was audible.
“It’s nice meeting you too. I’ve wondered about the woman monopolizing all Xander’s attention.” Her words were spoken in a kind voice, but the woman was looking Isleen up and down as if she were something harmful to be categorized as merely approach-with-caution or skull-and-crossbones deadly.