Incriminating Evidence by Rachel Grant Page A

could use against her.
    But surely, if he believed her, he’d understand why she’d repeatedly violated the restraining order. And letting him read the emails would be the key to convincing him.
    She could skip the shower and go over everything with him now. But she felt rancid after hiking for an entire day, hauling him, fighting him, sleeping on a rotting wood floor, hiking to Westover’s patrol car—in handcuffs no less—then spending the day in a jail cell. Add to that getting rained on. She was chilled and damp, even though Alec had turned up the heat in the car.
    She wanted a shower so badly, she could cry.
    And she really didn’t want him to wonder why she was reluctant to leave him alone with her computer.
    She sighed and set her laptop on the coffee table. “They’re all in the mail directory called ‘Vincent.’ Do you want a drink or anything while I clean up?”
    “No. I’m fine. Take your time.”
    She nodded and left him alone with her computer, well aware that if he peeked in other files, he’d have everything he needed to send her right back to jail.

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight

     
    A lec watched her leave, fully aware she’d been reluctant to give him access to her computer. He couldn’t really blame her, but at the same time, he was curious if it was a generic discomfort or if there was something specific that put the worry lines between her brows.
    He rubbed his own forehead. The pain had faded hours ago, and the swelling around his eye was almost gone. He was stupidly eager to see her after she’d showered. With her hair no longer confined to a wilting braid, he’d at last find out if her hair was as curly as he suspected.
    He was an idiot for even wondering. He shouldn’t give a crap what she looked like, and he certainly shouldn’t give a damn about what she thought of him. But he did. And it wasn’t for any good reason. In fact, it was for the worst reason he could imagine.
    Put simply, he wanted her in a very raw, coarse, and basic sort of way.
    But there was nothing simple about wanting Isabel. His campaign manager would freak, for starters. She’d insisted he not date at all until after the election. They didn’t need the extra scrutiny. Carey was cautious and hated surprises, but she was a damn fine campaign manager, so Alec put up with her edicts.
    Isabel was Carey’s worst nightmare—she’d already derailed the campaign once when she got his opponent to demand an inspection of the safety procedures of all the trainings conducted on the compound. Now Isabel was under suspicion of having abducted Alec—which was completely his fault—and for violating the restraining order—also his fault—he had obtained to protect her from her own foolishness. When the press got the full story, unless he’d untangled Isabel’s legal problems, he’d look like an ungrateful ass. Which, if he remembered correctly, was exactly what Isabel had called him.
    She would wreak havoc with his campaign, but he wanted her anyway. A sure sign he’d been a fool to give in to his dad’s pressure to run for office. He wasn’t cut out for playing by any rules except the rules of engagement in warfare.
    He dropped onto the couch, clicked on the mail directory, and found the subfolder she’d indicated. He scrolled to the bottom of the email list, looking at the dates. Vincent Dawson had emailed his sister regularly when he was in the Army, and then more frequently after he left the service fifteen months ago. Alec opened a few emails from Vincent’s last months in the Army, finally finding one the soldier had sent when he’d visited the Alaska compound for specialized combat training sixteen months ago.
Izzy,
In all my years in the military, this is the most intense training I’ve ever attended. I could swear, sometimes, when we’re deep in the woods, it feels like I’m in Afghanistan. It’s hard to describe because the landscape is different, but the woods are just as freaking cold. Mountains