Just One Touch (Slow Burn #5)(26)

"This better be damn good," Eliza growled into the phone. "Because I was about to be the recipient of the mother of all orgasms, and Wade is just pissed enough to throw my phone in the pool and withhold sex for a week."

Isaac burst out laughing when he heard Sterling in the background.

"Jesus fuck, woman, can we keep our sex life and your goddamn job separate?"

"Apparently not," Eliza said acidly. "Since one of my esteemed coworkers just called me right in the middle of your best move."

"You haven't seen my best moves, baby. Yet," Sterling said in a silky voice. "I'm saving those for when you've been a very good girl. It'll give you something to look forward to."

"Lizzie, stop. Please. I'm begging you. I'm going to need to bleach my eyes and my ears. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. Give me a few minutes and then I'll let you get back to your, uh, nighttime activities. And my advice, for what it's worth: work on being a very good girl."

She snorted, but then all humor left her tone. "Hit me with it."

"I was lying here thinking about Jenna and the weirdness of her situation. It's almost like she's been conditioned and indoctrinated over a period of years to accept an alternative reality and to reject any semblance of the modern world."

"Yeah, I could see that."

"What if she came from one of those survivalist groups. Living off the grid. Government and the modern world are the enemy. It would explain her unfamiliarity with the most basic essentials of what's everyday normal life to you and me."

Eliza paused for a moment. "Could be, but that's not what my gut tells me. Survivalist groups are very aware of the world around them. They have to be, in their minds. How else will they know how to survive, how to resist invasion, being taken over, et cetera. And Isaac, that shit about how the women were treated in whatever fucked-up place she lived? That's not how most, and I say most because there's always the one exception, of these groups operate. They have wives, families, children, and they're very protective of them. They don't treat them like cattle or breeding stock or starve them of love and affection. I'd say you've got yourself one fucked-up situation where a person or persons only play by the rules they themselves make. Those are the most dangerous kind because in their mind, they aren't doing anything wrong. But they've been wronged. First by Jenna by her leaving the fold, and then by the people aiding her. They're all about control and if they lose that control, they become dangerous and unstable. More so than they already are."



       
         
       
        

"Don't mean to drag up bad memories for you, Lizzie," Isaac said quietly.

He could almost hear Eliza's smile through the phone. "He's dead now, Isaac. He has no hold on me. He can only hurt me if I let him and he can only do that through memories or dreams, and Wade is very good at keeping him out of my head."

Isaac laughed. "I can well imagine. Thanks, Lizzie. I just needed another perspective. This is driving me crazy. I know we need answers, but I won't push her. I won't force her to do anything. I want her to trust me enough to tell me on her own."

"Understandable," Eliza said quietly. "And smart on your part. Good luck, and I know I don't have to say this, but handle her gently. She looks to be very close to her breaking point."

"You're right. You don't need to say it, but thanks anyway."

"Anytime, Isaac. And be careful, okay? I'd rather not hear about someone I care about having another brush with death."

"Now you know how I felt when it was you, Lizzie."

"Good night," she whispered.

Isaac slid his phone back over onto the nightstand and then went stock-still, his hand automatically reaching for his gun when his door slowly cracked open the barest of inches. But when the door opened wider to reveal Jenna illuminated by the dim hall light, her hair tousled like she'd been restless and unable to sleep, his hand eased away from the gun.

"Isaac?" she softly called.

"Yes, honey, I'm here."

She took a hesitant step forward, her nervousness evident in her stance and demeanor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he reassured her. "Is something wrong?"

She bit into her bottom lip and glanced downward, and he knew if the light were better he'd be able to see the blush that was surely adorning her cheeks.

"Hey, come here," he said.

She walked forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. She continued to avoid his gaze, finding anything else to focus on.