by Shandi Boyes
“The corner of Tivot and Esplanade,” requests a deep voice I immediately recognize.
When the taxi lurches to life, I yank off the coat covering my head. As suspected, the person who saved me from the aggressive swarm of media moguls is Brandon. He’s wearing his standard work attire, which consists of dark trousers, a light-colored dress shirt, and a fitted jacket. He’s forgone the tie he usually wears, switching it out for a massive bruise that covers a majority of his right cheek.
“What happened?”
He hisses when my fingertips skim over the bruise that looks freshly formed. Its size and pattern indicate a closed fist most likely made it. If I were still viewing the world through rose-colored glasses, I could blame my arrest for the mark, but I doubt that is the case. Brandon swung first, but none of the officers retaliated with their fists.
When Brandon drags the back of his knuckle-busted hand down my face, I continue my assessment of his face by only using my eyes. “We have a matching pair of bruises.” As the remorse in his eyes triples, he locks them with me. “I’m sorry for how you were treated, Izzy.”
I swipe away his worry by slicing my hand through the air. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” When I rib him with my elbow, he sharply exhales, pretending my blow winded him. “But who knew you were hiding such impressive fighting skills, Mr. James?” I keep my tone witty, praying it will douse the tension hanging thickly in the air. “The officer you smacked won’t breathe out of his nose for at least a week.”
His hearty chuckle warms my heart. “He should be grateful he’s breathing at all.”
Just as Brandon’s chuckles die down, a thunderous engine revving rumbles through my body. In sync, Brandon and I snap our eyes to the back window of the idling taxi. Guilt swamps me when I spot Hugo’s glimmering candy apple-colored car is sitting behind us. My unexpected swarming by the reporters and Brandon’s bruise had me forgetting that Hugo was waiting for me.
Jesus, could I be any more of an airhead this week?
When apprehension washes over Brandon’s face, I aim to settle his panic. “It’s Hugo. He came to pick me up.” After gathering two twenties out of my purse, I scoot closer to the partition separating us from the taxi driver. “Can you please stop here?”
Upon spotting the generous tip I plan to give him for not even two minutes’ work, he directs his cab to the closest sidewalk. With a smile, I hand him the bills before slipping out of the taxi. When Brandon fails to mimic my departure, I tilt my torso so I can peer at him sitting motionless. “Are you coming?”
He watches me peculiarly before apprehensively nodding. As he hurries across the bench so he can exit the taxi onto the safety of the sidewalk, I stray my eyes to Hugo. His big beaming smile fades the instant Brandon joins me on the sidewalk. I don’t know why he despises Brandon so much, but his hatred is as evident as the sun shining in the sky.
After giving Hugo my please-behave face, I gesture for Brandon to slip into the back seat of Hugo’s baby before I slide in the passenger seat. Hugo’s woodsy smell activates my senses when I slip inside his, but the familiar drawl of, “Hey, Isabelle,” warms my heart the most.
“Miss me?”
I slap his thick bicep when he mutters, “Like a hole in the head.”
After latching his belt, Brandon seeks Hugo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Hey, Hugo.”
It takes a quarter of a mile, and my teeth clench to the point of cracking before Hugo returns Brandon’s greet, and even then, it’s short and clipped. “Blondie.”
When I peer back at Brandon, he nudges his head to Hugo, his expression questioning. I shrug, genuinely unsure of what Hugo’s problem is. I get he treats Isaac like family, so he hates the idea of anyone stepping on his turf, but that isn’t what Brandon is doing. He’s my friend—point-blank.
Twenty minutes later, Hugo pulls into the driveway of a glass house on a cliff. My mouth dries up as my eyes bulge. “Are you sure this is the address Hunter messaged you?”
Hugo smirks, loving the doubt in my tone. “I told you Isaac gives very generous bonus checks in his Christmas cards.”
“You did, but this generous?”
With his lips clamped and his engine shut down, Hugo exits his car without speaking another word. As I mimic his movements, I take in the architectural wonder in front of me. Glass and steel beams stretch as far as the eye can see, and the ocean backdrop exhibits throughout each floor. It gives the glass a blue tint, but it isn’t dark enough to assure privacy. Hunter could get away with a lack of curtains if he didn’t have neighbors, but we’re not in the middle of the countryside. Modest, private-looking houses border his property, so how does he maintain privacy?
My eyes bug out even more when a wicked thought enters my mind. I shake it off, certain the confident man I met this weekend isn’t that confident.
As Hugo paces toward the large double doors, he digs his phone out of his pocket. After he punches in a security code into a white panel at the side, a buzz booms over the waves crashing in the distance. Like I could get any more excitement, a second outbreak hits me when a computerized voice says, “Welcome home, Mr. Kane.”
“I’m handing in my resignation first thing tomorrow morning.” Brandon’s tone doesn’t indicate if he’s joking or not, but the cranking of his elbow exposes it was more friendly than scornful.
After accepting the arm he’s popped out in offering, we enter the elaborate home. My jaw drops lower with every step we take. Risqué female nude artwork adorns the pristine white walls. They’re painted the same color as the ocean backdrop that expands as far as the eye can see. Modern white leather furniture is in abundance, and no expense was spared on the marble floors and granite countertops.
At a quick guess, I’d say this property has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. With the top story reserved for sleeping, all the living space is downstairs. The living room, kitchen, and dining area stretch across the entire back of the house giving uninterrupted views of the ocean, and an office is tucked away under the stairs.
When Hugo slides open the bi-folding doors at the back of the property, cool, salty air fans my cheeks. I unloop my arm from Brandon to move onto the glass patio outside. The calming noise of waves crashing in the distance soothe my agitated composure. It’s serene here—almost too tranquil to be peaceful.
When I snap my eyes shut, eager to suck in the salty, warm air, the hairs on my arm prickle from the excitement scampering through my body. Only one person has ever made my body respond in such a manner. That person is the incredibly alluring Mr. Isaac Holt.
With my hope as high as my heart rate, I crack my eyes back open before pivoting on my heels to face the house. When my eyes lock in on Isaac standing in the entryway of Hunter’s home, my breath hitches. He’s talking to Regan. Their discussion looks heated, no doubt fueled by Regan’s request for us to stay away from each other. Forever attentive, he notices my intense stare before I can verbalize my relief at seeing him again.
“Isabelle.”
His voice is barely a whisper, but it still rips through me like a knife. The sheer hurt in his tone reveals that this morning’s proceedings gutted him as brutally as it maimed me. Eager to soothe his panic, I rush for him. My thighs are quivering, making my footing unsteady, but nothing can taper my strides.
After flashing a smirk that has my knees clashing, he matches my speed stride for stride. Halfway between the patio and the entryway, he catches me with his outstretched arms before pulling me into his heaving chest.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His soothing purr lessens the chance of tears in my eyes trickling down my cheeks.
He gathers me in his arms before moving our reunion to a double leather sofa at the side of the living room. When he sits on the plush couch, I fist his business shirt in my hand, tethering myself to him so he can’t let me go. My greatest fear the past twenty-four hours was wondering if I’d ever see him again. I categorized my fear before storing it away for a more appropriate ti
me, but now, having his smell, his allure, and his magnetizing pull directly in front of me, I can’t help but wonder what will happen if Ryan and Regina don’t get the scientific evidence refuted. There’s a very good chance I could spend the next twenty years in jail.
Isaac proves he knows me like no one else when he reads the need in my hold without a word spilling from my lips. “I’m not going anywhere, Isabelle, and neither are you. You will not spend one more night in custody. I promise you that.”
My heart swells when his thumbs sweep across my cheeks to ensure they’re dry. Once he’s confident the hue on my cheeks is from his nearness, not tears, he peers at someone behind my shoulder. “Give me one night, then I’ll do anything you ask.” The crackle in his tone hints he’s at the peak of his anger, but the softness of his words indicates he wants violence to be the last resort.
Nervous excitement sparks through me when Regan nods. “One night, then you have to step back and let me do the job you pay me to do.”
Chapter 10
Isaac
“Come pick Isabelle up from the boathouse tomorrow morning.”
Hugo jerks up his chin, hearing the words I didn’t speak the loudest.
“Then you can’t let her leave your side. I don’t know who’s framing her for murder, but since there’s no body, my suspicions that this is Col or someone in his crew has significantly increased.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to point fingers. Your arrest and Theresa’s sudden resurrection in Ravenshoe smells mighty fishy to me. Have you had Hunter look a little deeper at that side of the coin yet?” Hugo’s tone doesn’t have an ounce of accusation. He’s just wading through this muddled mess surrounding us by evaluating each viable vantage point.
I shake my head to his question. I briefly considered if our arrests were linked, but no matter how many ways I worked the facts, I couldn’t find a connection. Theresa’s attempts to coerce me back between her sheets were the most unscrupulous I’ve seen, but without a body, Megan’s murder points to either Col Petretti or someone in his crew. Even when his family members die, a body is never recovered by law enforcement officers. He ties up all loose ends to ensure there’s no possibility of a ricochet effect to him or his organization.
“I don’t trust either Col or Theresa as far as I can throw them. That’s why you need to be Isabelle’s shadow. If they can’t make the murder charge stick, they’ll switch tactics.”
The twist of Hugo’s lips is cruel. “She won’t leave my sight.” After jerking his head to Isabelle and Brandon talking across the room, he shifts on his feet to face me head-on. “I don’t like him. He’s hiding something… guaranteed.”
A grin tugs his lips a little higher when I ask, “Aren’t we all?”
“True. But his is big. I’ve never had someone rub me as badly as he does. He gives me the creeps.”
I find his reply amusing. Nothing usually rattles Hugo, so I find it surprising someone as timid as Brandon raises his hackles.
“Do you trust him?”
I shake my head without pause for thought. “Not at all. Hunter is digging for dirt on him, but for the moment, our priority is keeping Isabelle safe and getting her charges dropped. Once we’ve handled that, we’ll deal with him.” Conceitedness heats my blood when I drink in the large bruise on Brandon’s cheek. “Are you responsible for his shiner?”
Hugo crosses his arms in front of his chest, equally annoyed and pleased. “Nah, that wasn’t me… regrettably.”
My laugh gains the attention of Isabelle. Mercifully, the moisture pooling in her beautiful eyes has cleared away, replaced by the gleam that usually highlights them. When her tongue delves out to moisten her top lip, my cock becomes friendly with my zipper. They’ve formed a close kinship since she came into my life—even more so when she glides her eyes down my body as she is now.
When her eyes return to my face, I arch a brow, wordlessly advising her I spotted her avid glance. The thrill of the hunt thickens my blood when a pink hue creeps across her cheeks. She’s hot and bothered, praying I’ll act on the threat in my stare. I would if the stunning visual of her squirming in excitement wasn’t stolen by Hugo stepping into the frame.
“I forgot to tell you that Hunter called when you were… settling… Izzy earlier.” A vein beeps in his neck when he says ‘’settling.” “He tracked the call left on your voicemail to a payphone located at the front of a junkyard and mechanic shop on 93rd Street. He sent one of the guys there. The phone was wiped clean of fingerprints, and there were no security cameras within the vicinity. He also reached out to Henry. He said he loves you like a son, but he doesn’t invoke special privileges unless the source specifically requests it. He wasn’t your mystery caller.”
I scrub my hand over the stubble on my jaw as I cross one suspect off my list. Henry may be a mob boss, but he’s as honest as a nun. “Did Hunter divulge any information on the officers from the dashcam video?”
Hugo shakes his head. “He said the facial scanning software in Ravenshoe is slower than you signing our bonus checks this year.”
A grin lifts my cheeks high. “They’re coming. I’ve just had other priorities on my mind.” My eyes stray to Isabelle halfway through my explanation. I only have eighteen hours left to get my fill of her before I step back as Regan is requesting.
It’s going to fucking kill me.
“When we leave, tell Hunter to switch his focus to having Isabelle’s charges squashed. I want to know who has had access to Megan’s motel room and any evidence obtained from there. When I return from the marina, I’ll call in a few favors. We need as many eyes on those files as possible.” Hugo notches up his chin, pleased for the assistance. “Peters is returning from New York this afternoon. He’ll swap places with your guy tomorrow so I can officially meet him. If he’s a good fit, I’ll sign him on as part of my security team before introducing him to Nick and Jenni.”
“All right, I’ll let him know.” He nudges his head to Isabelle, who’s still frozen in place, gawking our way. “Let your team do the job you pay us to do. For the next…” he checks the time on his watch, “… seventeen hours and thirty-two minutes, let Izzy be your priority.”
A smile stretches across my fatigued face. “I have every intention of doing precisely that.”
For the next seventeen hours, Isabelle and I will become lost in one another. Her touch will erase the apprehensions plaguing my mind, and mine will chase away the bad memories contaminating hers. For the next seventeen hours, it’ll once again be the woman who reawakened me from my grave and me—the man who’d go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe.
When Isabelle curls her arms around Brandon’s neck to hug him goodbye, I shove my hands into the pockets to conceal my clenched fists. It’s clear as day Isabelle has no sexual interest in Brandon, but I can’t stomach the idea of her arms wrapped around any man, much less one whose cheeks inflame from the friendliest gesture.
“Oh my…” Regan fans her heated face as her mouth forms an ‘O.’ “We seem to have a blusher in our midst.”
“Go and get him, tiger!” The slap Hugo places on Regan’s backside echoes in the foyer of Hunter’s house. “Show him who’s boss, woman.”
After shimmering her shoulders to shake out her negative vibes, Regan prances toward Brandon like a lioness on the hunt, playfully growling on her way. Her gleaming-with-mischievousness eyes collide with Isabelle for the briefest second when they cross paths in the living area, but with her prey locked and loaded, she doesn’t stop to share salutations.
“Should I be concerned about Brandon’s safety?” Isabelle asks when she stops in front of me. I’d be worried she overheard my earlier conversation with Hugo if her tone wasn’t full of mirth.
“Only as concerned as you should be when you’re in my presence.”
The humor in her eyes triples, but it has nothing on the lust gleaming in them. “So, you’re telling me he doesn’t stand a chance?”
“Precisely.”
/> Her laugh instigates an urgent meeting between my cock and my zipper. That alone has me more than eager to get our plans underway. “Are you ready to leave?”
When she nods, I float my eyes to Hugo.
“Izzy’s bag is already in your car,” he intuits, sensing my request. “When I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
I catch Isabelle by her hips, moving her toward my car before all of Hugo’s reply leaves his mouth. I don’t have a second to waste but many to devour.
Chapter 11
Isaac
By the time we make it to the dock where my yacht is moored, it’s a little after noon. I grab the basket full of food Catherine brought to Hunter’s before enclosing my hand around Isabelle’s. When I assist her onto the polished wooden aft of the yacht, a growl emits from my lips. Her seductive scent is infiltrating my nostrils. When she hears my groan, her heavy-lidded eyes lift to mine. Her breasts thrust up and down when her breathing turns excited. She’s struggling as poorly as me.
“Stop staring at me like that, Isabelle.” My brittle tone relays my wavering constraint. “Or all of Mr. Brown’s Christmases will come at once.”
I dip my chin in greeting to Mr. Brown, the sixty-plus-year-old gentleman hosing down his boat next to mine. If he weren’t standing there eyeing the tension bristling between Isabelle and me even a blind man would be able to see, I’d strip Isabelle out of her clothes where we’re standing and devour her for lunch.
When Isabelle’s eyes shoot to Mr. Brown, her cheeks give off a pink hue. She waves at him, her greeting friendly even though she feels anything but. She knows he’s the reason for the delayed gratification she’s currently facing.
“You can’t blame my wandering thoughts, Isaac. We seem to have a weird fascination for… fucking in or on modes of transport.” Her nose screws up when she curses. “First a jet ski, then a plane, then in the town car, and now on a boat.”