“Wow,” Michael uttered, shaking his head.
“Understandable why she’d be a little shaken,” Field said, taking his phone and heading back to the interrogation room.
Now knowing what Isabel had gone through, Michael’s protective instincts kicked in. He stood outside the door, his arms folded across his chest, his stance menacing. He wasn’t going to let anyone get past him until Isabel came out.
Isabel was taking her time. She glanced in the mirror and gasped. She looked horrible. It took a while to scrub the blood off her face and neck. Her arms were next. She unzipped all the pockets of her jacket and removed the few items inside, placing them on the shelf above the sink. Besides her phone and wallet, she found an old peppermint that had come out of its wrapper and was covered in lint, a couple of folded tissues, and an old flash drive. The tissues had blood on them, and so did the flash drive. She tossed the peppermint and tissues into the trash, then carefully wiped off the flash drive and tucked it into one of the front pockets of her jeans. She put her wallet in her back pocket with her hotel room card.
The blood on the phone was beginning to dry, and as she cautiously cleaned the screen, she remembered the video the woman on the street had made. She activated her phone and found the text waiting for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. Instead, she forwarded it to Dylan. He would know what to do with it. She didn’t have the stomach to relive those horrific moments.
Next, she carefully took off her jacket and examined the tear. “I can get this fixed,” she reminded herself.
She draped it over the sink and turned her attention to her arms. The right arm was clean, but the left was a bloody mess from the scrape. It took ten wet towels to wash the blood away. She finally got a good look at her upper arm. Then she groaned, “Oh, damn.” She wet another paper towel and patted the skin around the wound. It still burned like the devil. At least it had stopped bleeding. She was going to have to let a doctor look at it, she supposed. And she’d need an antibiotic so it wouldn’t get infected. Yet a little more misery to put up with—all because she wanted to go for a walk.
Once she’d finished the ordeal of cleaning up, she forced herself to put on her jacket even though she knew the inside of the left sleeve was bloody. She threaded her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make some sort of order out of it, then finally gave up.
Standing outside when she opened the door, Michael quickly stepped back and tried not to stare at her. He had always been attracted to her. Hell, any man would be. He remembered telling his sister at Dylan and Kate’s wedding that Isabel was the whole package. She had a great body, a pretty face, and she was damned sexy, but he also remembered she was young, just starting college, and he had no business messing with her, which was why he went to such great lengths to ignore her.
He couldn’t ignore her now. Man, had she changed. She’d filled out in all the right places and, even covered in blood, was stunning.
Michael knew he couldn’t let his lecherous thoughts get away from him. He was here to help her, not seduce her.
“Feel better?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes,” Isabel answered. It was a lie. Right this minute she wanted to take an hour-long hot shower, then crawl into bed, pull the covers up over her head, and let out a good long scream. Since she couldn’t do that, she decided to try to have a more positive attitude now that the danger was over.
Telling herself to toughen up, she asked, “Why did Dylan send you? He and Kate were supposed to pick me up . . . at the hotel.”
“They are two hours away in Charlemont, Massachusetts. Their meeting was just finishing up. I convinced Dylan to go on back to Nathan’s Bay and that I had this covered.”
“？‘This’ being me?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
He looked at Field and said, “Let’s get this done.”
“The detectives are on their way. They should be here anytime now.”
Isabel nudged Michael and whispered, “Shouldn’t I have a lawyer with me?”
“I’m a lawyer,” he answered.
“When did that happen?”
“When I finished law school and passed the bar.”
No one ever told her anything. She supposed it was her own fault. She made it a point not to ever ask about Michael. She thought about him, though, not all that often, she qualified, just every now and again.
“I thought you were a Navy SEAL.”
“I am a Navy SEAL, but my active duty is over.”