stupid.” She thought back to their conversations, the things they had in common, the ways that they’d clicked. “I thought this was real.” But it had all been a web of lies. Layered fabrications to lure her in. To get to her uncle.
Dutch inched closer to her. “The fact that we didn’t meet by accident was a lie, but everything else between us was real,” he said, as if reading her mind.
It felt like another violation.
When he’d touched her, she’d never been so warm, so light, so happy. Like they were meant to be.
What rubbish!
Every fairy-tale book about the princess falling in love with some version of Prince Charming, or in her case a charming bad boy, and living happily-ever-after should be banned. Better yet, burned, so no little girls grew up with such nonsense poisoning their minds.
“Who are you?” she asked, facing him. “What’s your real name?”
He looked at her, his eyes sad, his brow creased. She stared at him, studying him, trying to read his expression. But maybe she was a fool who knew nothing and had never had a thread of connection with him.
“My name is Horatio ‘Dutch’ Haas. They didn’t have time to create an alias. I swear to God, you know me. About my father’s heart attack, about my sister. How kids picked on me. My crush on that cheerleader. Finding the public salsa dancing to put a smile on your face. I’ve told you things, truths from my soul, that no one else in the world knows. Because I wanted you to see me. And the more you liked what you saw, the tattoos, my lack of finesse, my bluntness, my rough edges, the deeper I fell for you.”
Tears prickled her eyes. The upsurge of belief in her was swiftly blunted by a daunting sense of betrayal.
“We came so close to making love, sweetheart. That would’ve been the easier thing to do. Sleep with you and maintain my cover. Instead I told you the truth.”
Isabel slapped him hard. The sting in her palm and the flush in Dutch’s cheek made the tears fall from her eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for that?”
McQueen barked at Dutch. The dog stalked closer, teeth bared, growling.
Dutch raised his palms and softened his tone. “I told you all of this because I love you. You deserve the truth. I want to be with you. I can see a future for us, traveling, taking McQueen to the dog park, cuddled up on the sofa watching movies.”
She’d wanted that too and so much more. She had been ridiculous enough to imagine what it’d be like to start a family with him. After he’d taken care of her and McQueen, she’d been certain he’d make a good father.
“You don’t need to keep lying to me.” Tears streamed down her face.
“Everything is on the line,” Dutch said. “If we don’t get that hard drive back, then good, hardworking, innocent people are going to die. But I risked it all for you. Because I couldn’t live with the alternative.” He grimaced, the wavy lines in his forehead deeper than before.
They stared at each other. The intensity of his eyes drew her in, made her want to believe him. But she’d been a naive fool lapping up the lies from those around her long enough.
How on earth could she trust him?
Her chest heaved as silence hung between them. He cupped her shoulders, bringing her against him into a hug and—
Boom!
An explosion shattered the quiet, rocking the night and driving them apart. Outside in the parking area, a fireball blazed, triggering every car alarm in the lot.
She leaned on the window, putting her hands to the glass in shock. A motorcycle had been blown to bits and the frame was on fire. The bike that was beside his truck.
Dutch’s bike.
“Chad didn’t send you the box, but I’m a hundred percent certain he’s responsible for that.” Dutch hitched his chin at the inferno outside. “I really hate that guy.”
At least they were on the same page about something.
* * *
WATCHING THE FIRE rage in the parking lot, the aftermath of his homemade bomb, Chad stood in the darkness. A man who loved Isabel to the point that he’d do anything for her. Lie. Cheat. Commit arson. Murder.
And he would. He’d kill Horatio Haas given the chance.
How many women could say they had that?
Such devotion. Commitment. His passion could be overwhelming, sure, might even frighten her, but it was a singular love.