by Shandi Boyes
I stare at him, my mind blank. With us needing to pretend we don’t know each other, she can’t go back to my house. He also can’t take her to her apartment as Brandon proved its security isn’t as impressive as my security team made it out to be, so that only leaves…
Before the idea ruminates in my head, Hunter throws his keys to Hugo. “Take her to my place. I’ll text you the address.”
Smiling, Hugo jerks up his chin in thanks before hot-footing it out of my office. As far as the IRS is concerned, Hunter works for a telemarketing company in New Delhi. He’s never met Isaac Holt, much less worked for him. He’s never openly admitted it, but I’m reasonably sure they also believe he only earns a basic minimum wage, which only we know isn’t true.
“The back door has been flung wide open.” The unease in Hunter’s usually thick timbre sets my nerves on edge—like they could get any worse. “Are you sure you want to watch this?” He raises his eyes to mine. They’re full of apprehension.
After shoving my hands into my pockets to conceal their shakes, I lift my chin. His throat works hard to swallow before he swivels his laptop around to face me. My heart drums against my ribcage when he presses play on the dashcam video. Hearing Isabelle’s winded grunt for the second time doesn’t lessen their impact. If anything, the visual makes it ten times worse.
The only benefit that comes from witnessing her attack is realizing my judgment of Brandon was wrong. Even outnumbered, he defended Isabelle to the best of his abilities. He knocked one officer off Isabelle with a hard fist to his nose before grabbing another in a headlock. When a third officer placed a gun to his temple, he elbowed him in the nose before diving for a fourth officer. It took three officers holding him down and another threatening to Taser him before he gave up on his campaign, and even then, his annoyance can’t be missed. He’s as pissed as I am now.
“Rewind it back to the middle section. I want to see the faces of the men who threw Isabelle to the ground.” The adrenaline pumping in my veins makes my voice deeper than usual.
When Hunter freezes the footage on the frame I’m requesting, I lock their faces into my memory bank. They’ll pay for their error in a way they’ll never see coming, and I don’t just mean their ability to breathe.
“Run their faces through the police database facial recognition software. Get me every detail you can on them. Addresses, contact details, even what color the thread in their suits were when they attended prom. I want it all.”
Nodding, Hunter highlights the faces of the two officers before dragging them into the police database he’s illegally hacked into. While it searches for the men responsible for my newly blackened blood, I work on another neurosis that’s bugging me.
“How did Brandon arrive at my office only twenty minutes after Isabelle was arrested?” I prop my ass on the edge of my desk before folding my arms in front of my chest. “They would’ve retained him for assault.” My gaze shifts to Hunter, who is eyeing me curiously. “He assaulted four officers but was free only twenty minutes later. What the fuck am I missing?”
“Hold on.” Hunter digs a second laptop out of his bag. Once the screen is fired up, his finger taps on the keys at the speed of lightning. “The officers withdrew their charges within minutes of Brandon being carted off to the police station.”
A chill slides through me. Brandon has the appearance of a humble boy scout, but his eyes are hazed with secrets. There’s more to him than anyone has perceived, especially Isabelle.
My deliberations stop when a cell phone rings. It isn’t my standard cell phone, which is on my desk. It’s coming from the breast pocket of my suit jacket, slung over the coat rack in the corner of my office. By the time I retrieve it, the caller has been sent to my voicemail. The screen displays it’s an unknown number, but it has a local area code.
With curiosity heating my blood, I press the number for my voicemail before squashing my phone to my ear. When coins drop at the commencement of the message, I quickly perceive the call was made via a payphone.
Trains are running in the background, but they’re barely heard over the gruff, accentuated voice shrilling down the line. “You do not need to worry about the police officers who assaulted Isabelle. I’ve handled the situation. Consider it a gift between family members.”
Chapter 8
Isabelle
While Regan takes a call, I drink in the small conference room I’m seated in. The walls are bland, and the furniture is dated, but my heart still skipped a beat when I walked into the room. I’d sit in the back of a garbage truck if it guaranteed I wouldn’t be chained to other female prisoners while being hauled to jail to await trial. With it being December, my hearing won’t likely be scheduled until after the new year. Even though my Uncle Tobias and Dedushka weren’t the get-down-on-the-ground-and-play-with-Barbie-dolls type of men, Christmas was a celebrated tradition in our household.
No matter what case he was working on, Uncle Tobias always returned home no later than the twenty-third of December. We spent Christmas Eve morning searching for the perfect tree to decorate the same afternoon. Our meals were generally at the local diner or ordered from a catering company, but occasionally our neighbors, Mary and Kenneth, invited us to join them when their sons didn’t return home to celebrate with them.
The judge took pity on me when I explained the brutality I endured when arrested, but I would have utilized any tactic to ensure I didn’t spend my first Christmas with Isaac in a four by four cell. I already missed our first Thanksgiving, so I wasn’t willing to give up another special occasion. Even with a murder conviction hovering over my head, I want our first Christmas to be special. I want to add him to my family traditions before creating our own. It’s early in our relationship, but there’s no doubt Isaac is my soul mate, and it’s time for the world to know that.
Regan stores her cell phone in the briefcase at her side before joining me back at the chipped wooden table. “Hugo is here to pay your bail.” Because her smile is riddled with hesitation, it doesn’t have the same heaven’s-gates-being-opened appeal it usually has. “But before I can let you go, I need to be brutally honest with you.”
“Okay. Good.” The more brutal, the better. Only dodgy people skirt around the truth.
From the professional mask slipped over her face, I never anticipated for her to say this, “I know the type of man Isaac is… he’s addictive, but unless you follow my instructions, your case will be impossible for me to win, so with that in mind, I need you to stay away from Isaac until the trial is over.”
My mouth dries from the massive gulp I just took. That’s like asking someone to go scuba diving at eight hundred feet and not take an oxygen tank. I can’t breathe without Isaac in my life, so how am I supposed to stay away from him for weeks, if not months?
“I’m not requesting for this to happen, Isabelle. If you want to avoid jail, you need to do exactly as I say.” A chair being dragged across tiles breaks the silence teeming between us when she adjusts her position to face me head-on. “Do you want to go to jail?”
“No, but staying away from Isaac is a cruel and twisted imprisonment all on its own.” Not only will my heart be pained, but my body will be punished as well.
“I understand that, but you need to think with your head instead of your heart for just a minute.” Her remorseful green eyes stare into mine. “Step back and evaluate this as if you’re looking in on this trial from the outside. By removing your feelings, you’ll assess the situation to the fullest.”
I hate what she’s saying, but I also understand it. My personal feelings have factored into every decision I’ve made the past two months—that’s why I made so many fatal mistakes. By stepping back and assessing the evidence as I’ve been taught to do, I’ll remain one step ahead of the people attempting to take me down.
After a few minutes of silent deliberations, the cloud that’s been clogging my head the past two weeks floats away. “My relationship with Isaac will fatten up the DA’s case?”
>
Regan nods. “Yes, but without a relationship, there’s no motive.”
“Then reasonable doubt will come into play.”
She smiles her heaven’s-gates-being-opened smile before nodding. “Exactly,” She places her hand over my fist, which has settled on the jeans I was arrested in. “I explained the same thing to Isaac this morning. He didn’t take the news well, so I need you to convince him this is best for all involved.”
Air whizzes out of my nostrils. In general, Isaac detests being told what to do, so I can imagine what his reaction was when Regan said he had to stay away from me. I doubt anything I could say will help the situation, but I do agree with Regan. By us being a couple, I had a motive to kill Megan. If I want to stay out of jail, I have to stay away from Isaac.
“I’ll talk to him?” I don’t know why my confirmation sounds like a question. Probably because I’m skeptical Isaac will go along with our plan just as much as I know it will kill me staying away from him.
“Anything will help.” Regan huffs. “Now, we just need to work out where to bunk you until the trial. You can’t live in your apartment as Isaac owns the building. You can’t live with Isaac. Duh.” She ticks off the no-go zones on her fingers. “You can’t stay with Harlow as she’s dating Isaac’s best friend and business associate, Cormack, so that only leaves…”
“Regina?” I fill in when her reply comes up short.
“Sorry, she’s off the table as well.”
I scowl so hard, wrinkles indent my forehead. “Why?”
Regina retired from the force a few weeks ago. She has no connection to the case or with Isaac, so there’s no reason why I can’t stay with her.
I’m proven wrong when Regan says, “In preparation to lower her workload, Regina studied forensic science, meaning she’s the best person to squash inferior evidence. Since she’s working on your case, you can’t stay with her.”
“I lived with her for weeks, doesn’t that already cause a conflict of interest?”
Regan shakes her head. “No, because that was never public knowledge. Just like her relationship with Tobias, Regina kept her relationship with you off the department’s radar.”
A smile curls on my lips. My heart was pained when I didn’t spot Regina in the court chambers earlier today. We only officially met six months ago, but she treated me like the mother I never had, and we’ve kept in regular contact since I moved out, so I was somewhat upset I was left to face my battles alone. Now I have more understanding as to why I felt abandoned. They didn’t do it to hurt me. They were just putting my best interests first.
“What about blondie?”
I stare at Regan with my brow arched high. “Brandon?” When she nods, I huff. “We must have our Isaac Holt’s confused. The one I know would never let me stay with Brandon.”
“Then, we won’t tell him,” she says with a shrug.
“I’m not lying to him.” The mortified expression crossing my face should tell her how stupid I think her idea is, but just in case, I add words into the mix. “I haven’t regained his trust from the first time I broke it, so there’s no chance in hell I’ll do it again. I’d rather go to jail than deceive him again.”
The sternness on Regan’s face softens from my admission. After sucking in a big breath that puffs her chest out, she murmurs, “If worse comes to worst, you can stay with me until we find a more suitable arrangement.”
“Thanks.” I roll my eyes, detesting her lack of enthusiasm. “But wouldn’t it be more suspicious if I roomed with Isaac’s lawyer than a friend who happens to be dating an acquittance of his?”
A blinding smile stretches across Regan’s face. “I’ve worked for many pseudonyms of Isaac Holt, but I’ve yet to officially work for the Isaac Holt.”
“How many aliases does Isaac have?” The healthy beat of my heart is heard in my tone.
Grinning like a mouse with cream-slathered whiskers, Regan stands from her chair. “I’ll go get your bail sorted. For now, I’ll put my details on your application. Then once you’ve cleaned up and rested, we’ll finalize the rest of the arrangements.”
I fake a smile before nodding. Her and Isaac are on par for evading conversations they don’t want to participate in.
I’ve been alone for barely a minute when I detect I’m being watched. When I swing my eyes to the door, my breath snags halfway to my lungs. The person standing in the doorway isn’t who I was anticipating. “What do you want?”
Alex’s ocean blue eyes glide down my body, absorbing the gritty stains on my clothes before returning to my face. When they suspend on my bruised cheek, the shadow of hair on his jaw can’t hide its tick.
“I came to show my support. Even suspended, you’re still a part of my team.” He paces into the room, leaving the door open to show this isn’t a formal visit. “I’m not the enemy, Isabelle.”
“You’re not?” I pad closer to him so I can look him in the eyes when I reveal that I know about all the dirty little tactics he utilized the past six months. “So, paying for me to fly business class isn’t something an enemy would do?”
His brows scrunch, but before he can force any of the denials I see in his eyes, I keep talking. “I know all about your special treatment—”
“Special treatment?” He steps closer to me, his walk as arrogant as the expression on his face. “I treated you the way I did, Isabelle, to ensure you utilized this.” He taps his index finger on my right temple. “Instead of this.” He glides his hand down my body. “Did I bring you onto my team as a piece of eye candy for Isaac? Yeah, I did… initially. But with some pushing, your investigative abilities were unearthed. Who discovered the real identity of Isaac’s bodyguard? The connection between Isaac, Henry Gottle, and Col Petretti? That was all you, Isabelle. Not some floozy all the male agents at the academy couldn’t stop flapping their gums about.”
I try to formulate a response, but I’m so shocked, I can’t produce a single word, much less an entire sentence.
“Does that mean I’m unaware of your relationship with Isaac? No, it doesn’t. I’ve known since the night he took you home from the skanky nightclub you and Brandon went to months ago.”
I balk, my pupils widening. He knew all along?
“But for months, your focus remained on the task at hand. You showed true signs of a capable agent because you ignored your feelings and thought with a rational, cool head.” He stands so close, his latte-scented breath flutters my lips with warmth. “You could still be a top agent in our field if you repress your feelings, so you see people for who they truly are.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “You should listen to your own advice. You judge Isaac on the shoddy evidence in his file instead of the man standing before you.”
“Just you saying that reveals he hasn’t told you why he was arrested.”
His vicious words stab in my chest, physically shunting me, but they don’t stop me from saying. “I trust Isaac—”
“And look where that got you,” Alex mocks, his tone arrogant. “Standing in a courthouse on bail for murder.” When he peers past my shoulder, the mask he’s wearing momentarily slips, but it does little to leash his anger. “I know you didn’t do what you are accused of, so I’ll do everything in my power to have your charges dismissed, but you need to look at the whole picture before you get buried so deep, you’ll never climb back out.”
Before I can tell him I’m already gone, the creak of a door gains my attention. Regan is standing in the doorway with her wide eyes bouncing between Alex and me. When she notices her silent stalk has been busted, she says, “Your bail has been paid. You’re free to go, Isabelle.”
Although she’s talking to me, her focus remains on Alex. She seems as uncomfortable in his presence as me, but for a different reason. I don’t know exactly what, but if forced, I’d guess they’ve met before.
While gathering my belongings from the tabletop, I return my focus to Alex. “Be the agent you quote I could be. Dig deeper, look harde
r, and unravel the truth instead of running with speculations. I’m not just talking about my case. I’m referring to Isaac’s as well.” I smile, pleased the backbone I lost the past six months has started rejuvenating. “And do it without tapping your agents’ cell phones and paying exorbitant airfares.”
Not giving him a chance to reply, I pivot on my heels and briskly stroll out the door. Even with my heart erratically thumping, my chin is lifted high, and a broad grin is stretched across my face. Pride costs nothing, but boy is it saucy.
Chapter 9
Isabelle
I dash down the marble stairs of the courthouse toward Hugo, who’s standing next to his 1969 Chevelle. My lungs relish the fresh, clean air, but the frantic sucks of my nostrils are barely heard over the blissful tune my heart is pumping out. Every gallop I take toward Hugo increases my megawatt smile.
I’m so eager to get away from the dark gloom looming over the courthouse, I’m unaware of the attention I’m gaining until members of the media swarm me. As their counterparts push their cameras in close to my face, reporters hammer me with a range of questions pertaining to Megan’s case. For the most part, they’re the standard inquiries any criminal anticipates when leaving court with an official indictment, but there are a handful of ones who make me extremely uncomfortable. They all center around Isaac and if I am in a sexual relationship with him.
When the lights become too bright for me to bear, I back away with my hands held up to shield my eyes. My fumbled steps cease when I bump into a hard, warm surface. Expensive cologne infuses the air when a jacket is placed over my head a mere second before I’m guided through the sea of reporters. Their endless questions only stop when I’m helped into a taxi, and the back-passenger door is slammed shut.