Head On (Strength And Love)(13)

“Your father has more than a few enemies, and a couple of people around him, who all fit the frame for having reason to set you up this way. I need to dig deeper and it will take a while. It’s best your dad doesn’t know anything about this. People tend to find it hard to think those around them will betray them, and there’s a risk he might tell some of the people I’m looking into.”

“I don’t like the idea of lying to my dad.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming between my eyes.

“It’s not lying. It’s keeping quiet. And this isn’t a request.”

“You don’t own me. You can’t tell me what to do.” God, he infuriates me!

“Fine.” He marches to the door and yanks it open. “Leave.”

I stare at him in shock.

Ann’s mouth drops open. “Ethan, don’t be such a dick.”

“Stay out of it.” He jabs a finger in her direction.

“Decision time, Isla. You either stay, and let me work this out in my own way. Or you leave. Go on home and take your chances.”

Tears sting at my eyes and I feel stupid for letting him get to me, but he can be such an arsehole. A dickhead, and I only save that word for those who deserve it.

“I didn’t say no, did I? I merely questioned your ideas and said I didn’t like lying.” My voice rises and I want to crawl and hide as a tear slides down my cheek. I swipe at it with the sleeve of my cardigan.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed out, too. I want to know who did this. They’re fucking both of us over. And I need you to trust me for a few days while I look into this as thoroughly as I can.”

“Okay. But what do I tell my dad?” He’s not going to buy me going to stay with a strange guy. No way. He knows I don’t even date. He’ll likely lose his shit and come straight back home if I say I’m at a boyfriend’s house.

“Say you’re staying with me.” Ann touches my wrist to get my attention. “It’s kind of true. I can stay a few days, too. And that way you’re not lying. Simply say you didn’t like being alone, and a friend offered to let you come and stay.”

“Good idea.” Ethan gives his sister a jerk of his head. Which I take as arrogant, dickhead body language for well done. “You can say you met jogging.”

“Speaking of… I fancy a walk. Need to clear my head. Do you think I’ll be safe?” If I don’t get out of this room, I’m going to make a show of myself by crying my eyes out in front of Ethan The Dick.

“This is private land around here. My land. Fenced off. If you take the dogs, you should be fine. Cindy’s trained.”

I look at the massive Rottie and raise my brows. “Trained to do what?”

“Defend people,” he says.

Wow. Okay. Why does he need a trained attack dog? Maybe this guy is into more than selling himself if he has a guard dog.

I push away from the table and call the dogs to me. They all come, Ethan’s two trotting over as if they’ve known me all their lives.

“Stay in sight of the house, okay?” He looks at me and there is worry in his gaze, so I let his bossy ways go for once.

Stepping out the door, into the sunshine, I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God. I needed some space. Some time to myself to think. Ethan seems pretty convinced the person doing this is after me, not him. Which terrifies me. A person would have to be a total psycho to try to get to Dad by hurting me, particularly in such a vile way. I shiver, even though it’s warm, and wrap my arms around myself.

After thirty minutes despondently walking around the field by Ethan’s house, I head back. I enter the kitchen and there’s no one around. After making sure the dogs have water, I go into the lounge, but it’s empty, too. I wonder if his sister has left, and the thought makes me nervous.

Walking down the hallway, I hear a metallic clanging and some thumping bass music, and I follow the sounds. I turn a corner and a door is open into a room that has been converted into a gym. There’s a treadmill, a rowing machine, and a bike. A lot of weights are piled up in one corner, and there’s one of those multi-gym things by a mirror. As I look to my left, I freeze. At the far end of the room, his back to me, is Ethan.

He’s bouncing on his feet, wearing only shorts, and on every thump of the bass, one arm swings out and hits the punchbag swinging drunkenly in front of him. The next beat and his other arm follows the same arc. I’m transfixed. He’s so powerful and controlled in his movements. He pummels the bag, and I check his hands, relieved to see he’s wearing gloves.

His arms are bulging with muscle, and his back is a map of ridges and dips as different parts of him flex and pop with his movements. Sweat has turned his golden tan skin shiny and slick. I want to lick him.

Wait, where did that thought come from? I need to get out of here before I make a total fool of myself and get caught gawking at him like some sort of pervert.

But as I begin to turn, he stops suddenly and hangs his head. He puts his arms around the bag and hugs it, head still hung, and there’s something almost abject about his posture for a moment. Then he pivots, and we’re facing one another. His brows shoot up and he cocks his head to one side.

“You wanting to work out, Rose?” He uses my last name.

“Erm, no. I mean, yes, I might. Not now though. I heard the music.” I gesture into the room.