"What do you remember?" Ethan asked.
She took a deep breath and then blew it out. Placing her hands on the table, she met his eyes.
"I remember the limo ride to the bar. Drinking. Dancing. Laughing. Truth or Dare? And did I table dance last night?" She remembered a glimpse of herself tying her shirt up between her breasts and climbing onto the table. Good Lord. How drunk had she been?
Ethan laughed. "You did. And were quite good at it, too. If this whole security gig doesn't work out for you, maybe you could look at getting a job out here."
"Funny. Other than that, it's just flashes of memory, where I can't figure out what's real and what's not. Did Elvis really marry us?"
Ethan grimaced, then pulled out his phone. "I'm afraid so."
Isabel took the phone and scrolled through the pictures. There was one of her and Ethan picking out flowers. Another of them choosing their rings. She had her head thrown back in laughter in that one. So, clearly, she hadn't lost her taste while drunk. No, she'd just thought the rings were hilarious. Isabel tried to contain an eye roll at her ridiculous behavior. There was a picture of them signing the marriage certificate, then another of her walking down the aisle. Bits and pieces started to come together.
A brief flash of memory hit her. "I, Isabel, take you, Ethan—" As soon as the memory hit, it was gone. But she was left with the feeling she’d had at that moment last night. That feeling that said it was right.
If only it had all been real. But it wasn't. If only she could remember and relish the memories of what they'd shared. She'd obviously enjoyed herself. But there were huge ramifications to their actions. Ramifications they'd have to deal with as soon as possible.
She pulled herself from her musings to flip through a few more photos. One of them kissing at the altar. She blushed. That was a hot picture! Then more of them in the limo, selfies of them kissing and making out. Geez. Her uninhibited self was kind of a hussy.
Groaning, she laid her head on the table. "What have we done? How did this even happen?"
She looked up at Ethan from atop her folded arms. He opened his mouth to answer when the memory of them naked in bed together hit her.
"We didn't have sex, did we?" Mortification overwhelmed her. No way would she have forgotten sex with Ethan, right? She'd only been thinking about it for weeks.
"No," she said aloud. "I would have remembered that." Relief filled her. She couldn't get Ethan out of the mess they'd made, but at least they had an easy way out. "Guess we dodged a bullet there. At least we can still get an annulment."
The waitress set their food in front of them. It was lunchtime, but the thought of eating anything was unappealing. She tore off a bite of the bagel and stuffed it into her mouth.
Ethan hadn't said a word, so she glanced up, only to find an odd expression on his face. He looked as if he were about to say something, or trying to figure out how to say something, when both their phones rang.
They answered at the same time.
"Good. You're both on. I have news," Sully said. No “hi” or “how are you.” Just right to business.
"What's going on?" Ethan asked.
"It's not good. Bruno has upped the payment on all our heads, but especially on yours and Isabel's. Word has it that he has every assassin in the country after you."
"Yeah, that's not good news."
"Understatement of the year," Isabel said, chewing on her nail. This case seemed to get crazier and more dangerous by the minute. She'd been in the business for many years, and she’d been in the FBI before that. Never had she had so many attempts on her life in such a short period of time.
"That's not all," Sully said.
Great, just what they needed. More bad news.
"Tobias Winters wants a meeting."
"He doesn't know who we are," Isabel protested.
"Oh, but he does. Your faces were plastered all over his cameras. It didn't take much digging, plus his connection to Bruno, to figure out who you were."
"Dammit," Ethan said under his breath.
"You've got that right. And here's the clincher: he will only talk to Isabel."
"No way," Ethan protested.
"I don't know who you think you are, Ethan Brooks, but you're not the boss of me."
"There is no way in hell I’m letting you talk to that sick—"
"There's no way in hell you can keep me from talking—"
"Would you two shut up? Geez, it's like you're a married couple or something, the way you fight these days!" Isabel's face drained of color, and nausea turned her stomach. Her eyes met Ethan's, and he gave a slight shake of his head. Right. Play it cool.
"If you two would hang on one damn second, I could tell you that we have a plan. The entire team is flying out there tomorrow, so—"
"What?" Isabel shrieked. Heads around the diner swiveled in her direction at the shrill tone of her voice. She cleared her throat. "I mean, what do you mean, you're flying out here?"
"Geez, Izz. What is wrong with you? You're acting like a total lunatic. Anyway, I set the meeting up for tomorrow night. Zach will call you with the details. We'll all be there by then to set up precautions around the meeting place. You won't be in danger. We'll be there the whole time."
"I wasn't worried about being in danger. I trust Ethan. I just don't understand why everyone needs to be here."
"It's best if we're all there. I want Bruno taken out for good. Gabriel and Lucas both have wives now. I won't continue to put their families in danger over this. Time to end it."
Isabel couldn't argue with that. Scarlett and Cate had both been through enough. They didn't need to be constantly worried for their lives or the lives of their husbands.
"But why does Tobias want to talk to me?"
"No idea. He said something about having information we might want. I get the feeling that he's pretty pissed that his manager blew up part of his hotel. He may be a billionaire, but I don’t think he takes too kindly to someone destroying his property."
"What do we do until then?"
"I'd like for you to try to make contact with Quita. Zach has done some research, and it looks as if Bruno has something on her that’s keeping her with him. He hasn't figured out exactly what it is. Just some vague threats. If we can promise to keep her safe, maybe she'll help us."
"They know us at the club, though. How do we contact her?"
"Zach has an address. I suggest making a visit to her home. Be sure Bruno's not there first. Win her trust, Izz."
"I'll do what I can."
"I know you will. Zach's texting you the address now. Keep me posted. And please be careful."
"I'll keep her safe, Sully," Ethan promised.
"See that you do."
The line went dead, and Isabel slipped her phone into her pocket. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"About what?" Ethan asked.
"About this!" She pointed to the ring on her finger. It wasn't clear to her why she continued to wear it. When she glanced down at Ethan's hand, she noticed that he was still wearing his as well.
"Not much we can do right now. It's the weekend, so there aren't any courthouses or legal offices open. Can't do anything till tomorrow." He shrugged as if it were no big deal. And although his words were truthful, she couldn't help but feel that Ethan wasn't telling her something. Or that he wasn't nearly as riled up about this as she was.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. She was a profiler, after all. It should be fairly easy to figure out what he was hiding.
A mask fell over his face, blocking his emotions from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The waitress handed Ethan the check, and he pulled out his wallet, placing some bills on the table.
"Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand for hers.
She took it as he pulled her to her feet. Only he didn't let go as they walked back across the parking lot to their hotel. He held her hand tightly in his.
Interesting.<
br />
Chapter 12
Quita's neighborhood was what one might, in a generous mood, call “up and coming.” Rows of urban, loft-style apartments and townhomes lined the street, while litter and trash, both literal and figurative, were scattered all around. Ethan had parked the car a couple of blocks down from the address so that if anyone were watching Quita's home, they wouldn't see the car. However, the address Zach had given them didn't take into account the missing street numbers.
Isabel stood outside a convenience store, waiting for Ethan to get directions. In today’s world of GPS devices and smartphones, it was hard to believe that they were having to ask someone for directions. Yet here she stood, waiting for Ethan to ask someone where in the world they were. It seemed you couldn't always trust technology these days.
She peeked inside the store and saw the cashier pointing down the street. Hopefully, that meant they were close.
"How much?"
Isabel whipped her head around to find a man stumbling towards her. He appeared to have had too much to drink. Since it was only just after noon, Isabel assumed that it was probably a common occurrence for him. His question puzzled her.
"What?"
"How much for a quickie in the alley?"
Seriously? He thought she was a prostitute? The man ambled closer, trying to prop himself up against the side of the building. He leaned in close to her face, and she could smell the booze on his breath. Well, that, and something that smelled a little like death.
"You're mistaken," she said, backing up away from the guy. "I'm not a prostitute."
His hand reached out, faster than she'd thought possible for someone in his state, latching on to a handful of her hair and pulling her closer to him. With his other hand, he grabbed her ass and squeezed hard.
"I don't give a rat's ass if you’re a prostitute or not. If you won't let me pay for it, then I'll just take what I want."
That was it. Enough was enough. She'd been playing the role of damsel in distress for several days, and she was through with it. Her knee came up hard into his groin, and the man instantly released her hair. She grasped his arm, wrenching it behind his back and driving him to his knees. When he was on the ground, she leaned in close to his ear.
"Let this be a lesson to you. No means no." With a final shove, she stepped over him and right into Ethan's hard chest. Her head snapped up, and she met his eyes. There was a smirk on his face, and his hands were on his hips after having watched the entire show.
"I leave you alone for two minutes, and I return to find you kicking some old man's ass." The smirk turned into a full-fledged grin, and Isabel couldn't help but return it.
"He's a dirty old man. Tried to pay me for sex, and then, when I told him no, he decided to take matters into his own hands."
"Looks like he won't be interested in sex for at least a few days."
"Well, at least some other poor woman is safe for that long. Did you get directions?"
Ethan nodded towards a strip of townhomes down the road. "Yeah. Right up there."
Isabel started in that direction, giving a quick glance over her shoulder at the man who was still writhing on the ground, his hands cupped over his family jewels. Drunk or not, the man needed to learn to keep his hands to himself. Maybe next time, he'd think twice before assaulting a woman.
Ethan stopped her, glancing around to make sure no one was around.
"Do you really think anyone is watching us?"
"Hard to tell. If it were me, I'd be watching her house. But I wouldn't be expecting anyone on foot. Let's walk by, then turn around and come back to it. I just want to make sure we're not walking into a trap."
Ethan took her hand as they strolled past Quita's place, looking to anyone who might be watching as though they were a couple taking a walk down the street. Once they'd passed by and turned around at the end of the street, Ethan squeezed her hand.
"Looks ok to me. I'll let you knock while I cover you."
Walking up the front steps, they approached the front door of the galvanized townhome. It looked industrial, but Isabel had a feeling it was probably a really nice place inside. She guessed that dancing earned Quita a fairly good living, although the neighborhood still left a lot to be desired.
Ethan nodded at her, and Isabel knocked on the door. After waiting a moment for someone to answer, she tried again.
The door whipped open, and Quita stood there, her eyes wide with shock. Isabel smirked.
"Surprised to see us? Alive?"
* * * *
Quita let them in. The townhome was contemporary, with industrial touches throughout the space. It had a loft-like feel—an open floor plan with high ceilings. Tall windows allowed sunlight to spill in across the floor. The kitchen was equipped with what appeared to be high-end appliances with white marble countertops. It was stunning.
"Why are you here?" Quita asked, motioning towards the L-shaped, white leather couch in the center of the room.
Ethan waited for Isabel to walk in front of him, then sat down on the couch next to her.
"That's all you're going to ask us after you almost got us killed?" Isabel asked, as Ethan stretched his arms out along the back of the couch as if he were completely at ease.
"I didn't have a choice. I'm really sorry," she said.
"Sorry? Seriously? You keep saying that. That you didn't have a choice. Everyone has a choice."
"Ladies, if you don't mind. We came here for a reason," Ethan piped up.
"And what reason is that?" Quita asked, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
"As we've said before, we need your help. Bruno has to be stopped. You may be the only one that can help us."
"You know what he does, right? That he sells women and girls to sex traffickers? That he sells guns to America's enemies and is responsible for drug distribution on our streets?" Isabel asked.
"And what does any of that have to do with me?" Quita answered, jumping up from the couch and beginning to pace back and forth. "That's all a terrible story. And I'm really sorry. I didn't want to be a part of setting you up, and I prayed that you'd be ok. But listen to me carefully—I cannot help you."
Remorse and regret filled her eyes, and she dropped back onto the couch. "I wish I could. But I just can’t. Not only would he kill me, but—"
"What? What does he have on you?" Isabel asked compassionately.
Quita sat forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her head in her hands. "Sometimes it's not about you. Sometimes there are fates worse than death."
Ethan stood and walked to the kitchen, needing to think. Two monitors sat on the counter near the window.
"Quita? Where are the cameras for this feed?"
"Outside. There's one in the front and one in the back."
Ethan watched as four men, two at the back of the house and two in front, crept around with guns in hand.
"Isabel, let's go!" He rushed towards her, taking her by the hand and pulling her to the back door. Checking the monitors one more time, he saw that they were coming up the steps. They would come in at any moment.
Turning on Quita, he hissed, "He's watching you."
"Of course he's watching me! What did you expect? And now you've brought trouble to my front door."
Breathing heavily, Quita glanced towards the doors and then back at them. Finally, as if making up her mind, she said, "Upstairs. Follow me."
Praying that this wasn't a setup, but not seeing any other choice, Ethan pulled Isabel behind him as they ran behind Quita up the stairs. She led them to a back room that looked like an office. Lifting the window, she pointed. "Climb out here. You can hide till they're gone."
Ethan stepped out onto the roof of the garage behind Quita's townhome. Quita started to pull the window closed, but a loud bang stopped her progress. Rushing from the window, she ran back towards the stairs.
Ethan watched through the window as she was stopped short in the hallway.
"Well, hello, Quita. I understand you have some
visitors."
Chapter 13
"They're not here anymore," Quita lied. Isabel cringed. If she knew anything about Bruno, it was that he wouldn't appreciate being lied to.
A sharp slap sounded through the air, and Isabel held in her gasp. Ethan moved them out of sight so that they couldn't be seen through the window. Since Quita hadn't been able to shut it before running off, they could still hear the conversation inside.
"What do you take me for? A fool? You should know better than to lie to me. Where are they?"
"They escaped. I didn't have time to call you."
Another slap rang through the air, and Isabel cringed. Quita was taking a beating on their behalf. Isabel moved as if to go back through the window to help her, but Ethan caught her by the arm.
"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.
"Helping her."
"He's slapping her. He'll kill you."
"Where are they hiding?" Bruno asked. Isabel risked a quick glance and saw that he was standing just outside the office door. There was something familiar about him. She'd seen pictures of his disfigured face, but there was something in his movements, too—something in the way he towered over Quita, who was cowering against the doorframe.
Quita was crying quietly but tried to answer. "I don't—"
Slap!
"I don't have all day. You know that! I have to get back to the club for the shipment going out tonight. Now. Where. Are. They?" Bruno enunciated each word, and fear curled in Isabel's belly. Fear for Quita. Fear for Ethan and herself. He would find them. There was no way Quita could keep this up for long.
As if on cue, Quita cried, "Out there!"
Nausea roiled in Isabel's belly, and she turned her horror-filled eyes to Ethan. Not saying a word, he grabbed her hand and took off towards the side of the townhome. Isabel heard the window being raised and glanced back. Bruno's cold eyes watched as they ran across the roof.
"Up here!" he bellowed.
Ethan stopped at the edge of the roof. "We have to jump," he said. There was only about a two-foot space between the houses. Isabel nodded, too scared to say anything else.
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 58