Taken by Sin

Chapter One
NEW ORLEANS
Two weeks later

Dalton felt more at home in the bayou than anywhere else. Moss providing a drapery of darkness, the dank smell of stagnant water, the humidity and the feeling of being closed in all suited his nature. Well-hidden, a place where no one could find him. No one knew about this place, no one would connect him here, so he knew it was safe to bring Isabelle.

The cypress trees bent low in welcome as he paddled the boat through the thick mud of the swamp bottom, keeping watch over the woman who sat ramrod straight on the metal seat in front of him.

For the past two weeks Isabelle had said very little. Like a robot, she'd followed orders, eaten, showered, and slept when he'd told her, but stayed mostly silent. No conversation other than a few verbal affirmations to his questions regarding her comfort level.

He'd hoped to draw her out, to talk to her, to begin the process of healing her. But he'd gotten nothing. Instead, she'd gone further into her shell.

Shock? Maybe. She was probably confused as hell and completely disoriented. He'd circled them around Europe before chartering a plane back to the U.S. When they arrived in New York, he'd bought a car and driven to New Orleans, not using the direct route to do that, either. Instead, he'd gone east and then south. Good thing he had a stash of cash he could utilize to do everything he'd needed to do. No way could he have accessed Realm money to fund this venture.

The only good thing about Isabelle's silence over the past two weeks was the time it had given Dalton to think, to plan. He'd known then where he was going to take her, what he was going to do. Hopefully, it would work.

Of course there were no guarantees, but at least it would give her a chance, which was more than the Realm would have given her.

"We're in the bayou in Louisiana now," he said, getting used to hearing only the sound of his own voice. But he kept talking day after day, hour after hour, hoping it would help Isabelle, that maybe something he said at some point would trigger a response from her. "A place I used to call home."

Isabelle gave a curt nod in reply, remaining, as usual, virtually motionless. Her fingers held tight to the rim of the metal seat on the boat. She stared straight ahead while he paddled, not taking in the view of the swamp at all. For all he knew, she was completely catatonic.

As the boat broke through the low-hanging moss, the house loomed into view, a great sprawling home well hidden from those who didn't know about it.

The Labeau family was his family. Not blood relations, but they knew him better than anyone. He had no blood family. He'd come from nowhere. He didn't, in fact, exist. No one knew that except for the Labeaus. And now the only one still living who knew his secret was Georgie, and at--how old was Georgie now, forty-five, fifty or so?--hadn't even been born when he'd first met her family. But when he'd contacted the Labeaus a week ago, Georgie had answered. She'd known right away who he was, had told Dalton this place would always be his home.

As always, the Labeaus could be counted on. He had to come back here. There was something he needed from this place and this family beyond the shelter it would provide Isabelle and him.

He drew the boat up to the dock. Several young children rushed to greet them, smiling and waving, their bare feet slapping hard on the wooden dock as they ran and smiled. They moored the boat while he helped Isabelle...