Page 5 of Save Me

I want to tell her yes. I want to fall on my goddamn knees at her feet and agree to whatever she wants—whatever makes that bottom lip stop quivering. But I can't do that. Because she and Bella are identical, and the last thing this girl needs is for the Dixie Mafia to spot her and think she's her twin sister. They won't stop to ask questions before they pull the trigger. They'll kill her, believing they've silenced her sister…and her blood will be on my hands for not sending her pretty little ass back home where she belongs.

No matter what people in this city think, I'm not a monster. And I won't be one now. Even if it means dashing this girl's hopes all to hell.

I'd rather her be alive and hate me than bleed out on a fucking sidewalk in front of me.

"I'm not going to help you," I say, my voice cold. Hard. Leaving no room for argument. "If that's why you came, you wasted a trip."

Her expression falls, disappointment welling in her eyes. "Please," she whispers.

"I'll have Daniel show you out." I hit the buzzer on my desk to call him into the room.

"He was your father, Brantley," she says, glaring at me. "You should want the truth as much as I do."

I laugh harshly. "The one thing no one is the fucking town ever wanted was the truth, little bird. They prefer the comforting lie." I hold her gaze. "If I find out that you're looking into this, I'll call your father."

"Don't you dare," she practically hisses at me.

"Then run home like a good girl and let the police handle it."

"You are a jerk."

"Maybe." I shrug. "You can thank me for it in a few years when you're still alive."

Daniel appears in the doorway, poking his head into the office.

"She's ready to go," I mutter to him. "Please escort her out of the building." I pause. "All the way out."

Isla practically vibrates with fury, her blue eyes flashing. Christ, she's gorgeous when she's fired up and pissed off—like a goddamn storm waiting to unleash on the city. But she doesn't say a word. She simply turns on her heel, the bottom of her dress flaring around her as she stomps out of my office, practically shouldering Daniel out of the way as she passes by.

I watch her go with my heart in my throat, fighting the urge to call her back. As much as I want to do it...for her sake, I can't. She doesn't need to get mixed up in this bullshit. Especially not with a motherfucker like me leading the way.

The only thing I'm liable to do is screw up her life as badly as I've fucked up my own.

But goddamn if I don't want to do it anyway.

Chapter Two

Isla

"Are you following me?"

I glance up from my lunch to find Brantley Hill standing in front of me in the diner, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"No." I scowl at him, still annoyed that he sent me on my way like I was a little girl two days ago.

"Then why are you at my favorite diner?" he asks, those piercing green eyes locked on my face as if he's trying to read me like the book sitting on the corner of my table.

"Is your name on the building? Do you own the diner?" I narrow my eyes on him. "Because last time I checked, it wasn't, and you didn't. And this is a free country. I can go where I want."

He mutters a curse, shoving a hand through his dark hair. The move pulls his shirt taut over his stomach. And mine flutters in response. He's way too gorgeous.

For a while, he was also Nashville's problem child.

He drank, fought, and gambled his way through half the city, starting when he was barely even old enough to leave home. He barely finished high school. He spent more nights in jail than some of their freaking janitors. For several years, he was on a path of self-destruction, seemingly hellbent on drinking himself to death.

Four years ago, he walked out of a meeting with his father and checked himself into rehab. He's been a different man ever since. Everyone says that meeting was his father threatening to cut him off if he didn't get his life together, but I'm not sure I buy that. I've spent the last week reading everything I could find on the man. And from everything I've been able to find, Brantley has never depended on his father.

In fact, until that meeting four years ago, I don't think they spoke at all for a long time. There are no photos of them together, no mention of them being in the same place at the same time, nothing. Whatever made him leave home at seventeen created a rift between them that didn't heal until that meeting four years ago.

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