Conflict of Heart

Chapter 28

The strong breath of a train could not match the vigour that was Isabella's beating heart as she stopped her car later that night. Her lips felt dry and a stone seemed to have wedged itself deep within her throat, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly in her hands.

She turned off her engine and lights, and watched the world plunge into darkness save for the flickering street lights that lined the road in intermittent intervals. Her chocolate gaze moved to the house that her GPS indicated, and her hands suddenly felt clammy.

When Ryker had told her to come to his home so that they could discuss the situation in private, she had not expected to find herself in a place like this. It wasn't the worst of neighborhoods, but it certainly wasn't one where she expected a world-class detective to stay.

It was . . . poor.

She drew a shaky breath into her lungs, hoping the simple action might calm the thudding tempo of her heart. When she opened the car door, the cool night air instantly caressed the dark tendrils framing her face, and she gripped her bag tightly as she closed and locked her car.

Her uneven footfalls echoed into the quiet night as she walked along the asphalt to reach a little white picket fence and matching gate. She reached for the latch and paused, looking at the home ahead of her.

Quaint pebbles surrounding several large stones made the walkway, which lead to a small one-level house. It was too dark for her to make out the appropriate color of the paneling, but she guessed it was a light coffee shade or something similar. A decent-sized garden surrounded the little home, and while she was sure that it had been looked after with a loving hand at one point, the years of neglect were apparent. With an invasion of weeds in the flowerbeds and horribly overgrown hedges, she couldn't help but take note of the abandonment and compare it to the stately gardens of her own home.

Her deep gaze travelled back to the house before her. There was a light shining in the one window, but the curtains were drawn. She wondered if Ryker was still awake at this hour. She knew that he had told her to come see him, but it was possible that he had fallen asleep in that time. It was late, and the hour was beginning to tell on her own exhausted body and mind.

For a second, she felt as though it would be best to turn around and go back home. It felt wholly inappropriate to be standing outside the home of a man whom she hardly knew. She was entering his domain, invading his safe-space. And judging by the strength of his voice when he had spoken to her about being protective of what was his (in a way claiming that he was quite territorial), this was a definite breech of his personal space.

But the strange quivering motion she felt in her chest kept her feet rooted to the spot. If he liked his space so, why did he invite her?

Her thoughts trailed back to the photo, the whole reason she was standing in the street at this hour. She knew the photo had been edited, but she couldn't help the dreaded 'what if's?' that surfaced. What if Damien was never a part of her life? What if she had met Ryker first? Would he have looked at her in the way that the photo falsely portrayed?

The distant sound of rowdy voices sliced the quiet night, and her grasp immediately tightened on her bag. Apprehension flooded her veins at the noise, and it was that, along with the pressing matter of the edited photograph, which spurred her to unlatch the gate. She glanced around, unsure if a vicious dog might suddenly jump out of nowhere. But the garden was still, and she could almost hear the blood rushing in her ears as she slowly made her way to the front door, the voices down the street gradually increasing in volume.

She knocked twice then waited, crossing her arms across her chest as she glanced at the world around her. The streets were calm, but her heart stammered when she heard the voices belting out in laughter moving closer.