Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“What was that all about?” Isla asks when she emerges from her bedroom, dressed and ready to go.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
The drive out to the red rocks is pleasant. It’s an unusual departure from my normal daily routine. Business prevents me from visiting more often than I like. Isla’s increasingly wide eyes show she’s never been here. With a dance training schedule like hers, she’s probably never been outside the strip or even the dance studio much.
“It’s breathtaking!” she says as I drive up to the base of the canyon. The red and cream-colored sandstone stretches as far as the eye can see, towering over us in steep cliffs and spanning the distance at our feet.
“Would you like to take a walk with me?” I ask.
She nods eagerly and practically jumps out of the car as soon as I park. Feeling free out here is not just about her stretching her wings and leaving the gilded cage where I kept her, but also about my liberation. Business demands, particularly regarding the Barones, leave me little time for peaceful, outdoor contemplation. Not that I’m alone now, but Isla brings me an even greater sense of peace than solitude ever has.
Her presence placates my demons. They can’t compare to the brilliant light of Isla’s pure goodness.
“Tell me more about your past,” I say, as we walk hand-in-hand along the picturesque backdrop of the canyon.
“There isn’t much to tell, not much that’s good anyway,” she says, shaking her head.
“I want to know about it,” I press. “I want to know what trauma in your past has made you so strong.”
“I never told you I had trauma in my past.”
“You didn’t need to. Strength like yours doesn’t grow from a flowery backstory. It grows from pain and necessity.”
When Isla first talks about her childhood, she starts out sounding quiet and reserved. She tells me about her mother’s death, the upheaval of her formative years as she was tossed into group homes and foster care. But by the time she talks about her teen years, her tone has changed to one of anger and fierce determination. Her drive to secure a dance scholarship and her resolve to never need anyone again in order to survive on her own are beyond impressive. Her story also triggers something else in me—a deep, potent protective urge to keep her safe.
“No one will ever hurt you again,” I tell her when she finishes detailing the account of her past and opening up her most private wounds to me. “I will make sure of it.”
Isla looks at me, and I feel swallowed whole by her innocence. Nothing and no one will ever touch her again, besides me. It’s no longer just a promise, but my sheer obsession to ensure that she remains protected at my side.
Sure, I have a million other things to take care of too, mainly putting down Angelo Barone and his crew. My life has taken an unexpected turn, and a ballerina is now my most important possession. We both take one last long look back at the canyon before leaving. Isla breathes in the air deeply and closes her eyes as if committing the colors at the edges of the sky in the late afternoon to memory.
On the drive home, Isla stares out the window quietly and I wonder what she’s thinking about. Upon returning home, I will have tasks to complete and may need to visit one of my casinos. It will depend on whether I need to meet Gabriel Reyes in person or if Luc has any useful information. Then, I’ll need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about—
“Vincent, look out!” Isla screams as a car comes careening across the median from the other direction and heads straight toward us.
I yank the steering wheel, and the tires squeal as I try to get us clear of the impact. I’m able to avoid a head-on collision, but the other vehicle still hits us. It barrels into my driver’s side door, momentarily stunning me, pinning me against the metal and trapping me inside the car.
“Are you alright?” I ask Isla, reaching over to make sure she’s okay, and grimacing when I twist my shoulder.
“Yes, I am—” The passenger door flies open, and a man wrenches her from the car, cutting her statement short. “Vincent!” Her scream for help cracks my heart in two as I reach for my gun and fire at the men who are holding onto her arms and pulling her back toward the car that hit us.
“Let her go!” I shout as I fire. “Let her go, you motherfuckers, before I kill every one of you!”
I wrestle against the car, but I’m pinned too tightly. I can’t even turn all the way around to get a clear shot once they walk around the car. For fear of hitting Isla, I stopped shooting. Instantly, the car sped past, allowing me a clear view of its driver. Barone’s capo.