by Ivy Nelson
“Let’s start by finding Darren Gunn. It shouldn’t be hard since he’s out on bail and has had his assets frozen. We can approach him with a deal. Say we’ll ask the judge for leniency if he’ll just give us some information.”
Garrett stared at his attorney. “Are you serious right now George? I don’t want that bastard getting any kind of deal. I want him behind bars for good.”
George shrugged. “Do you want to put a stop to this madness or not? Deals are how we get things done and you know that. Besides, unless we can pin Helen Peters’ death on him, it’s highly unlikely he would go away for life with the charges currently against him. He’s only being charged with assault on Henry Alvarado and possibly with stalking Isabelle. You haven’t given the FBI enough for federal charges yet.”
Garrett growled. “You really know how to piss in my cheerios don’t you, George? Fine, we’ll give the FBI what we have. But now that I know Maddox is involved, I want to fucking nail his ass too.”
Jax stood. “I need to get back on this if we’re going to get anywhere before you lose it. My advice would be to get back to work and focus on your company. If Isabelle is meant to be in your life she’ll come around.”
Garrett wasn’t so sure. There had been so much hurt in her eyes when she’d taken his bracelet off. Despite the fact that it was yet again a royal misunderstanding, it was the second time they’d had such a misunderstanding and he wasn’t sure she would give him a third shot.
When Jax was gone, Garrett turned to his lawyer. “What time is my call with the judge?”
“Three. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something as your attorney and your friend.”
A pleasant discussion never followed that phrase, but Garrett didn’t know how much worse it could get, so he nodded for George to continue.
“I’m no PR specialist, but maybe now is a good time to get out of Solitaire.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Come on, Isabelle. Go home and sleep. I’ll take a shift, and Catarina will be her to sit with her for a while after school.”
Isabelle tried to sit up from the uncomfortable reclining chair in her sister’s hospital room, but her back was so stiff it took multiple tries. She hadn’t left her sister’s bedside for the last three days. Her dad was right, though. She needed a shower and a nap in an actual bed.
A glance at her phone told her there were only three missed calls from Garrett. That was progress from the twelve the previous two days.
The more digging she’d done to find out how her sister got out of jail, the more she realized he’d just used her to get what he wanted, information on Darren and Maddox. It didn’t matter what he had to promise or do for her to get it. And he’d signed a fucking recommendation letter asking the state to let her out of prison early despite the fact that she’d asked him not to.
“Are we back in the apartment yet?” she asked as her dad sat in the chair she’d just vacated.
The old man shook his head. “The apartments are being renovated, and since we’re staying elsewhere, they started with ours and some of the empty ones. Fresh paint, upgraded appliances, that sort of thing. We’re fine where we are for now, Isabelle. There may still be danger.”
Anger bubbled deep inside. That wasn’t a coincidence. It was more of Garrett’s meddling.
“I don’t understand why he won’t go away,” she whispered.
“Men like him rarely give up easily, daughter. I know your heart is hurting, but you would be better off not dwelling on it right now. We’ll be back home soon enough.”
He gripped her hand and they both stared at Carmen’s unmoving body. Wires and tubes protruded from everywhere and the only sign of life was the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Things had been touch and go for the first twenty-four hours, but she was stable now. It was still a critical situation that she might not come out of, but doctors were hopeful that she would eventually wake up and make a full recovery.
“Go home, Isabelle.” He pulled his truck keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Your car is in the driveway, take my truck home and Henry will pick me up later.”
She gripped the keys and headed for the parking lot. When she came out of the main entrance of the hospital, a man who had driven her to and from work a few times jumped up from a bench.
“Miss Alvarado, I’m here to take you wherever you need to go.”
“I’m going home, but you can go back to wherever he is and tell him he can go to hell. I don’t want your help, or his help.”
Brushing past him, she scanned the large lot for her father’s truck, sprinting to it as soon as she spotted it.
At the safe house—a place she’d come to despise—she sorted through a stack of mail from the apartment and ate a sandwich. A letter from the U.S. Department of Education caught her eye.
It was probably something about her student loans. She suddenly couldn’t remember when the last time she’d sat down to pay bills was.
“God fucking damn it,” she said out loud as she read the letter. It was congratulating her on paying off her student loans. The final statement included showed a payment had been posted on Wednesday of last week.
Picking up her phone, she stabbed her finger at his number.
“Isabelle?” Garrett’s voice tore at her heart, but she willed herself not to react to the traitorous organ.
“For the last time, stop meddling. I don’t want your money. Call the Department of Education and tell them you want your money back.”
“Isabelle, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. Where are you?”
She growled. “Just like you don’t have any idea how my sister got out of prison? I have to go. Please don’t make me ask you to stop meddling again.”
She pressed the red disconnect button and tossed the phone on the pile of mail and made her way toward the stairs. As she stepped onto the bottom step, she heard it buzz, and she knew he was trying to call her back.
He needed to learn how to take no for an answer.
In her room, she took a hot shower and tried her best to erase images of Garrett from her mind, but he was there every time she closed her eyes.
When she climbed into bed, she quickly succumbed to exhaustion, but he was still in her dreams. Would she ever be able to go through a day without thinking of him? Why hadn’t she heeded her father’s warnings about men like Garrett?
Later, she woke to see her phone by her bedside. Her dad or one of the girls must have brought it to her. There was a missed call from Hunter, Austin, and Cassie, and text messages from Eli and Holly asking what was going on. Garrett must have told them she broke up with him. Would he have even bothered to mention that her sister got hurt in the midst of all this?
She responded to the texts and messaged Austin and Cassie saying she would update them later, but she wasn’t quite sure what to say to Hunter. Was he still going to want to help her finish her degree now that she wasn’t with Garrett? And what about Solitaire? Obviously she couldn’t be a house submissive anymore and there was no way she could afford the dues. Not to mention she had no desire to run into Garrett every weekend. At least not at first.
Austin called a few minutes after Isabelle sent the text.
“Are you OK?” she asked as soon as Isabelle answered. “I heard about your sister. Do you need anything? I can get away from New York and come stay with you for a while if you need some help.”
Isabelle dashed at the tears that rebelliously fell down her cheeks despite her attempts to stop them. “I appreciate it, Austin. I really do, but I think I’m through taking help from people for a while. It’s kind of what got me into this mess.”
Austin was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I hope you know you have a friend in me no matter what. Garrett is angry and hurting right now and has confided in Patrick that he’s planning to leave Solitaire. I hope you’re not leaving us too. What happened between you guys, honey?”
Isabelle was openly weeping now. �
�It’s so complicated to explain. Let’s just say Garrett and I are from two different worlds. As for me being part of Solitaire, I have to focus on my family for a while. Besides, there’s no way I could afford dues without the house submissive program.”
Austin blew out a breath. “OK. I understand focusing on your family. But don’t forget, we don’t kick people out for not being able to afford dues, and the house submissive program isn’t the only thing we offer in the way of assistance. You’re loved there, chickadee. We’ll be there for you if and when you’re ready to come back. If you’re never ready, that’s OK too. We can get together for Sunday brunch sometime.”
Isabelle ended the call and went downstairs to see who was home. Poor Sarah was curled up on the couch clutching a framed piece of art her mom had given her. She was sound asleep though, so Isabelle gently pried the frame from her hand and set it on the end table before covering her with a blanket.
Her dad didn’t appear to be home, so he was likely spending the night at the hospital.
She called him and Catarina answered her grandpa’s phone.
“Mom moved her fingers tonight,” she said.
Isabelle smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful news. Is Grandpa there?”
“He went to get coffee from the waiting room.”
She waited on the phone for her dad to come back.
“Do you want me to come trade places with you?”
“No. Get a good night’s sleep. Henry is coming to pick up Catarina in a little while. I’ll stay here tonight. You can come relieve me in the morning while I go work some things out with my boss.”
She sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Isabelle. Let me take care of both my daughters tonight.”
More tears threatened to fall, and she blew out a lengthy breath to keep them at bay. “OK, Daddy. I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Thirty
A ringing phone tore Garrett out of a fitful sleep. He reached around in the dark for the receiver, intent on hurling it across the room. Instead, he pressed it to his ear and glared into the pitch black of the bedroom. “What,” he snarled.
“Mr. Oliver, this is Lori down at the front desk. I’m so sorry to wake you, but we’ve got police in the lobby looking for you.”
His heart jumped into overdrive and he bolted upright in bed. “The police? Did they say what they wanted? Do I need an attorney?”
The woman seemed baffled. “I have no idea, Mr. Oliver but they seem quite impatient that I won’t tell them what room you’re in.”
“Thank you for that, Lori. Please tell them I’m on my way down.”
He rolled out of bed and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. His stomach growled and his first thought was to wonder if Isabelle was eating. Damn it. He couldn’t get her out of his head even in the dead of night. Downstairs, two officers waited for him. One looked like he was nearing retirement, and the other appeared to be fresh out of the academy.
“Officers, what seems to be the trouble?” he asked.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk, Mr. Oliver?” the young one asked.
Garrett looked around the lobby. “Gentlemen, it’s two in the morning. There is no one in here. Let’s just have a seat over there and get to the point, shall we?”
They grunted in the affirmative and Garrett turned to the desk clerk. “Lori, is it?” When she nodded, he smiled. “Can you get some coffee for us, please?”
“Right away, Sir.”
Garrett strode to the seating area in the middle of the lobby and dropped into a plush chair. The officers sat on a couch across from him.
“Do you know Darren Gunn?” the older officer asked.
Garrett was alert now, no coffee needed. He kept his public appearance mask in place, though, and didn’t react to the name. “I do. He was a former supervisor in one of my facilities. I recently fired him. What kind of trouble is he causing now?”
“It seems someone caused him the ultimate trouble, Mr. Oliver. Darren Gunn was found dead in the wooded area just beyond your property line at Colorado Logistics.”
Garrett lifted one eyebrow. Just then, Lori appeared with a tray of coffee. “Here you folks go. Let us know if you need anything else.”
Garrett reached for a cup and two packets of sugar. “That’s unfortunate. What does this have to do with me if he wasn’t on my property when he died?”
The young officer picked up a coffee as well and drained it.
“Based on our initial investigation, it seemed as if Mr. Gunn was trying to get onto your property before he was attacked. We know you employ security but couldn’t find anyone on the premises when we looked around outside earlier. Would you be willing to contact your security team and see if they know anything and ask them to come in for a formal interview?”
Garrett already had his cellphone out. “I will. What else do you need?”
“Just covering the bases, but can you account for your whereabouts this evening from say nine to midnight?”
Garrett smiled. “I can, but you would need security clearance to get access to any substantial proof. I’ll have my lawyer work on providing it for you.”
“What are you, some kind of government agent?” The older cop asked, rolling his eyes.
Garrett gave a low chuckle. “No. But I am the chief economic advisor for President Donovan.”
Both men eyed him skeptically. But by tomorrow morning, they would have proof in their files that he was in his hotel on a videoconference with the White House during that time.
“Seems a bit far-fetched, but I don’t really watch much news so maybe you’re telling the truth.”
Garrett shrugged. “It’s your job to be skeptical, so I don’t blame you.”
Garrett stood. “If you have no other pressing questions, I’ll get on the phone with my head of security.”
“We have a few more questions, but they can wait.”
His mind was reeling as he stepped away to call Jeff, his driver, and the head of his warehouse security team.
If Darren was dead, that meant Maddox was tying up loose ends. Whatever his master plan had been either failed, or Garrett just didn’t know the extent of the damage he’d done yet. He was praying for the former to be the case.
“Mr. Oliver,” a husky voice came over the line. “What seems to be the trouble, Sir?”
“Do you have guards stationed at the warehouse still?”
“Yes, Sir. I believe so.”
“You believe so or you know so? I’m paying you to know.”
The man sighed. “Let me check in with the team, Sir.”
Garrett glared at nothing as he waited for the man to return to the call.
“Sir, I have the warehouse team lead on the line with us. Tell Mr. Oliver what you just told me, John.”
John cleared his throat. “Sir, at around nine-thirty this evening, we received a phone call from you telling us to secure the property and go home for the night and that you would have a fresh assignment for us tomorrow.”
Garrett clenched his fist. “I don’t know who you spoke to, John, but it wasn’t me.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Sir. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“And I’ll be getting to the bottom of your incompetence,” he bit out. “The police are at my hotel and would like to talk to you.”
Stalking back to the officers, he said, “Gentlemen, my head of security and the two-man crew that was supposed to be at the warehouse tonight will be here within the hour. It seems someone pretending to be me called and told them to stand down just after nine.”
Both officers were scrambling to write down what he said.
“I need to excuse myself to make a few phone calls and get my security shored up, but I’ll also provide phone records, security footage, whatever you need.”
“That’s much appreciated, Mr. Oliver. If you would redirect your staff to the police station, we have a couple of stops we need to make before we interview them.”
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Garrett agreed and sent a text to all three members of his security team.
Back upstairs in his room, he dialed Lance’s number.
“Jesus, man. It’s three in the morning.” Lance didn’t sound like he’d been asleep, though.
“Tonight, at around nine my time, someone pretending to be me called my security team and told them to pack up and go home for the night. Do you have any way of telling if that call came from the same number we’ve been tracking?”
Lance said something incoherent to someone in the background. “I’ll go check and see if I’ve gotten any alerts. The one God damn night I bring a woman home you have to call and interrupt me.”
Garrett highly doubted him bringing a woman home was a rare occurrence.
“Please forgive me,” he said sarcastically. “Your dick getting sucked is so much more important than the murder investigation currently happening at my warehouse.”
“Not Isabelle,” Lance said, sobering quickly.
“God no. Do you think I would be this fucking calm if it were Isabelle?”
“Sorry buddy, you don’t exactly seem calm. Who’s the unlucky victim then?”
“Victim my ass,” Garrett bit out. “Former employee of mine. The one who slashed Isabelle’s tires and beat the shit out of her uncle. Do you have anything for me yet?”
“Hey, I’m doing you a favor. Have a little patience,” Lance muttered.
“Sorry. I’m just uptight.”
“Clearly. And what’s this bullshit about you leaving Solitaire?”
Garrett sighed. “I haven’t decided yet. But I don’t want to take something from Isabelle by virtue of her not wanting to see me, so I thought it would be better if I stay away for a while.”
“How noble of you.” Garrett heard the clacking of keys as Lance typed.
“I’m not seeing anything coming into your office. I don’t see any calls at that time.”
“Fuck. Of course. The call went to one of my security team’s cellphones.”