Page 35 of Reaper's Desire

I don't have an answer. All I know is that I can't let her die. Even if it means becoming the hunted instead of the hunter.

I check my watch. It's nearly midnight. She'll be back at her hotel by now, probably locked in her room, trying to make sense of what happened. Trying to decide if she should call the police, call her father, or call someone who can help her.

I need to get to her before she does something that will get her killed.

Before I can stop myself or rethink anything, I head for the door, my mind already running through the logistics. I'll go to her hotel, convince her to come with me, bring her back here where I can keep her safe. Simple.

Except nothing about this is simple.

The walk back into town takes nearly thirty minutes, my pace quick but not rushed, my eyes constantly scanning for threats. The streets are almost empty now, just a few stragglers making their way home from bars and restaurants. Isabelle's hotel is one of the nicest here, the kind of place that caters to wealthy tourists.

I slip past the front desk without being noticed, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Her room is on the third floor, at the end of a long hallway lined with identical white doors.

I knock. Three sharp raps. No answer. I knock again, harder this time. "Isabelle. It's Julian. Open the door."

Still nothing. My pulse kicks up.Is she ignoring me? Or is something wrong?I press my ear to the door, listening. No sound from inside. No movement.

Fuck.I pull out my phone and dial the hotel's front desk, keeping my voice low and calm. "Yes, I'm trying to reach a guest. Isabelle Montague. Room 312. Can you connect me?"

There's a pause, then the sound of typing. "I'm sorry, sir, but Ms. Montague checked out about an hour ago."

My blood runs cold. "Checked out?"

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I hang up without answering, my mind racing.

She ran.Of course she did. She's terrified, confused, and Itoldher to run. She followed instructions, at least, but that won't save her.

Where would she go?Maybe the next leg of her trip, like I told her to, but I don't know what that is. If she goes back to New York, even worse. That's exactly where she doesn't need to be right now.

I pull up her credit card transactions on my phone and scan the recent activity. Nothing yet. But it's only been an hour. She might not have used her card yet.

I head back down to the lobby, my mind working through possibilities. If she's smart, she'll pay cash for everything, avoid leaving a digital trail. But she's also scared, and she's shown she has no idea how to cover her tracks in a situation like this. She doesn't know how to hide or how to run.

She'll make a mistake. And when she does, I'll find her.

I'm halfway across the lobby when I see her. She's standing near the entrance, her suitcase at her feet, her phone pressed to her ear. Her face is pale, her eyes red-rimmed like she's been crying, and she's wearing the same dress from earlier, now wrinkled and stained with dirt from our run through the streets.

She looks fragile… and absolutely furious.

I cross the lobby in long strides, and she sees me coming. Her eyes widen, her mouth opening to scream, but I'm faster. Her phone drops to the floor, cracking, but that's fine. She can't use it where we're going; I would have destroyed it anyway.

I grab her wrist—gently this time, not the bruising grip from before—and pull her toward the exit.

"Let go of me!" She tries to wrench free, but I don't release her. "I'm calling the police! I'm?—"

"You're coming with me," I say, my voice low and urgent. "Now. Before someone else finds you."

"Someone else?" She's still fighting, her free hand pushing against my chest. "You're the one who?—"

"I'm trying to keep you alive." I meet her eyes, letting her see the desperation there, the fear I've been trying to hide. "Please, Isabelle. Trust me."

"Trust you?" She laughs sharply. "You assaulted someone in front of me. You dragged me through the streets. You told me I'm in danger and then refused to elaborate. Why the fuck would I trust you?"

"Because I'm the only one who can protect you."

The words hang between us, and for a moment, neither of us moves.