The Mystery Unmasked: Enigma, #3

by Shandi Boyes

  As if he sensed my silent bidding, he flips our exchange on its head. My non-bruised cheek mashes with the pillow a mere second after his cock is withdrawn from my mouth. He adjusts the tilt of my hips before entering me from behind with one fluid thrust, filling me as only he can. I call out, the sensation too unbelievable to be real.

  “Isaac…” A whole heap of other words come out with his name, but I’m so hazed by lust, I have no clue what I’m saying. I doubt it’s as dirty as the ones he whispers to me while driving me to the brink.

  “Again.” The judder of his command is as rippling as my pussy. I’m sucking at him ravenously, praying he’ll coat my womb with the seed my mouth missed out on. “Say it again.”

  I could feign ignorance by pretending I don’t know what his demand pertains to, but I’m sick of acting foolish. I know what he wants just as much as I know the idea of us parting is killing him as slowly as it’s killing me.

  “I love you, Isaac. Only you. I’m yours. And you—”

  “Are mine.”

  A ragged gasp expels from my lips when the scorching hot water of the shower pelts on my nearly blue and snapped-off toes. “Sooo c-c-cold,” I stammer as another shiver runs down my spine.

  Isaac pulls me into his chest before dragging his arms up and down my back, warming me with his body heat. “I told you it would be freezing.” His tone is a unique mix of fret and humor. “But you still wanted to go skinny dipping in December.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining when you followed me into the water.” My voice has an edge of wittiness to it. I saw a different side to Isaac the past hour, the fun-loving, I-may-be-a-multi-millionaire-but-I’m-still-just-a-man side. I love his dominance, but I’m learning there’s a lot more to this man than what I’ve unearthed so far.

  Isaac cocks his brow. “You stripped naked before diving into the water. If you assumed I wasn’t going to respond to that, you don’t know me very well.”

  His deep, pussy-clenching chuckle bounces around the small confines when I rib him. “I had never skinny-dipped before, so I figured what better location than the middle of the ocean to tick it off my list. Our secluded location also ensured there would be less carnage.”

  “True.”

  The giggle bubbling in my chest erupts when Isaac spins me around so he can shampoo the lower half my hair. The shower recess in his yacht is so confined, his elbows are closer to bracing the tiles when he massages the fragrant products into my scalp. As his fingers knead away the headache that’s been plaguing me most of the morning, a shallow moan vibrates through me. His nurturing is nearly as intoxicating as his sexual prowess.

  My sluggish eyes pop open when the impressive girth of Isaac’s cock is felt halfway up my back. I shake my head, shocked at the eagerness heightening my senses. We’ve been sexually active nonstop for hours, but anticipation is still coursing through me. Will I ever get enough of him? Usually, a couple’s insatiable need to please each other dampens within weeks, but I don’t see that being an issue with Isaac. I couldn’t imagine it dying in years, much less months.

  Would you listen to me? Years? We haven’t even hit months yet, but I’m already discussing the future as if it’s a guarantee instead of a probability. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I’ll never get enough of Isaac. I’m just praying he doesn’t grow weary of me before I’ve gotten my fill.

  “Never going to happen, baby,” Isaac murmurs, reminding me that I need to speak to someone about my annoying habit of thinking out loud. “You’ve got me by the throat… and the balls.”

  My cheeks burn from their sudden incline when I smile. When I pivot around to face him, I keep my elbows in close, ensuring they don’t bump any crucial body parts in the process. Once I’m facing him front-on, I study all the exceptional features of his face. It’s a long process since he has so many beautiful assets to explore, but it fills me with worry more than it soothes me.

  “I don’t want to go back. Going back means I have to give you up. I’ve only just got you back. I don’t want to give you up again.” I stop when my voice crackles. The urge to cry is overwhelming, but I give it my best fight to hold them back.

  “Isabelle.” My name shoots out of his mouth like gunfire. “Please don’t cry.”

  I run my hand across my cheeks to remove any rogue tears that may have unwillingly spilled from my eyes. Mercifully, my cheeks are clear. I can’t say the same thing for Isaac’s next set of words. They’re as murky as the Hudson.

  “You don’t have to go back. I’ll make you disappear.”

  Pain shreds through my heart, crippling it even more than the thought of not seeing him for twenty years.

  “Us. I can make us disappear. They would never find us,” he clarifies when he notices the forlorn look on my face. “You’re not going anywhere without me, Isabelle.”

  “You’d give up everything for me?”

  He nods without hesitation. “Yes, Isabelle.”

  “Your brother and your family?”

  He takes in a quick, sharp breath, but his nod doesn’t slacken. I don’t know whether to burst into tears or swoon, so I do both. He’s never reciprocated my verbal declarations of love, but his actions are proving time and time again that I’m under his skin just as profoundly as he’s embedded in mine.

  “I love you.” Relaying how much his statement impacted me with three simple words is unjustifiable, but they’re all I have to express my gratitude, so they’re all I can use. “But I’d never ask you to give up everything you’ve worked so hard for, let alone your brother and family.”

  “You don’t have to ask, Isabelle. I’d willingly give everything up for you.”

  His words steal my breath and my self-control away. I dive at him so brutally, he crashes into the shower wall with an almighty thump. A sexy-as-sin growl erupts from his throat when my tongue strokes his luscious lips, requesting for them to open. When they do, I taste the cinnamon the homemade donuts Catherine packed for us were coated in. Our embrace is scorching hot, enough to buckle my knees and fill my heart at the same time. We devour each other, knowing this could quite possibly be the last time we do it for a while.

  By the time the water runs cold, I’m so sexually sated, I no longer remember my name, much less the dense cloud that’s about to reform above my head.

  Chapter 13

  Isaac

  “You have a month, Regan. If the charges aren’t dropped by then, I’m taking her away from this.”

  My tone indicates this isn’t up for further discussion. If I had it my way, Isabelle wouldn’t be seated in Hugo’s car as it drives away from me. She’d be in my car, with me, where she belongs, but Regan is adamant this is the only way we can clear her name.

  Regrettably, Isabelle agrees with her.

  She doesn’t want her Uncle’s name tainted with lies and delusional charges. I can’t say I don’t understand her request. I just wish she understood she’s going against one of the most corrupt organizations I’ve come across. Their tactics are the dirtiest I’ve seen, meaning I’ll soon be forced to smear my hands with so much dirt, they’ll never become clean.

  I don’t want to do that. I want to be the man Isabelle believes I am, but they’re not giving me a choice. I’m once again having my hand forced. There’s nothing I hate more than being strong-armed, but I’ll protect what is mine, and Isabelle is undoubtedly mine.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Isaac—”

  “It’s not good enough, Regan. You need to do more.”

  Hating that I’m projecting my anger at the wrong person, I flatten my foot onto the gas pedal. As the driver’s side window in the Bugatti slides into place, I skid out of the gravel lot of the marina. My shift in gears is so brutal, the gearstick buckles under the pressure. I could blame my raging emotions for my excessive speed, but it’s not the reason I’m notching forty miles over the signed speed limit. I want to reach Hugo’s Chevelle so I can have one final glance of Isabelle before she’s thrust back in the limeli
ght she doesn’t want.

  My breathing turns heavy when I do precisely that ten seconds later. With my jaw clenched as tightly as my clutch on the steering wheel, I veer onto the opposite side of the road and glide up beside Hugo’s baby. He grins when he spots my creep in the corner of his eye, but it does little to weaken the pain that jabs my heart when Isabelle’s profile pops out from behind his chest. Even from this distance, I can see the wetness glimmering on her cheeks.

  One month, Isaac. One measly month, then she’ll be yours again.

  I say my mantra on repeat as I increase my speed, so I can pull in front of the Chevelle. My somewhat manic pace soon makes Hugo’s car appear as if it’s a speckle on the horizon, but every inch I gain away blackens my veins with anger.

  By the time I arrive at the Dungeon, my mood is woeful. Anger about everything that has happened the past seventy-two hours has finally caught up with me, making me the most unhinged I’ve ever been. Even Tina can sense my unraveling composure as the instant she spots my narrowed gaze and flaring nostrils, she alters the course of her direction, slipping into the staffroom located behind the bar instead of greeting me with the flirty banter she usually runs with.

  “Good choice,” I murmur under my breath as I shimmy out of my jacket. I don’t have the time nor the patience to deal with her theatrics today.

  The abrupt closure of my office door awakens Hunter. He’s slouched over my desk that’s covered with papers that weren’t there yesterday. After scrubbing his weary eyes, he locks them with me. He hesitantly smiles but remains quiet, not game to speak for fear of retribution.

  I store my jacket on the coat rack before shifting my focus from one annoyance to another. “Did you sleep last night?”

  Hunter winces before checking the time on his watch. “Does a twenty-minute catnap count?”

  While cursing, I drag my hand down my tired face. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, either. I was too busy watching Isabelle when she drifted off to sleep a little after three in the morning. I wanted to make sure her dreams weren’t plagued with nightmares. The instant a scared whimper escaped her lips, I calmed her in the best way I know how. Sexually.

  “Go home and get some sleep.”

  Hunter straightens his spine. “I can’t. I’ve got the facial recognition running, the—”

  “It wasn’t a request. You won’t be helpful to anyone if you pass out from exhaustion.” I jerk my head to my hanging open door. “Go home and rest, then meet me tomorrow.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I arch a brow, unimpressed with his questioning tone. “I have some security matters I need to attend to. Considering you’re my head of security, I figured you’d want to be included.”

  Hunter scrubs at his beard before raising his murky blue eyes to me. “I thought the title was negotiable?”

  “Is it… until tomorrow. If you prove yourself, it will no longer be negotiable. If you don’t…” The grim expression on my face tells him everything he needs to know. Tomorrow is his final chance.

  “All right.” He stands, taking his hemp bag and laptop with him. “What time do you want me back tomorrow?”

  “Meet me at the airport hangar at six.”

  He nods before striding toward my office door. Just before he exits, he pivots back around to face me. “I forgot to tell you. I scanned the device we found in Isabelle’s apartment. The one with the… pictures.” He fumbles over his last word. “The device hadn’t been downloaded onto any servers, so the only images of Izzy and you are the ones on the USB stick I stored in your safe.”

  When he points to the safe next to my desk, relief washes through me. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to have the images taken care of.”

  A grin sneaks out from beneath Hunter’s shaggy beard before he exits my office without speaking another word. After taking a few moments to relish in the fact Isabelle’s beautiful naked body won’t be plastered around the country for the world to see, I shift my focus to the work Hunter has been undertaking the past twenty-four hours.

  From the amount of paperwork on my desk, it appears as if he’s downloaded every morsel of evidence Ravenshoe PD has compiled against Isabelle thus far. He’s set aside irrelevant information such as witness statements and reports from the officers first on the scene, instead choosing to focus on the damning scientific evidence—for instance, the blood-coated bullet that matches the caliber and brand as the one in Isabelle’s gun.

  While I scan the vast collection of photos from Megan’s motel room, the phone on my desk rings. I eye it peculiarly. Usually, any calls I receive come through my cell phones, not my office landline.

  After placing the evidence back onto my desk, I gather up the phone off the receiver. “Isaac Holt—”

  Not even half my greeting leaves my mouth before I am interrupted. “Please tell me you didn’t do this?”

  Recognizing the voice shrilling down the line, I growl, “What are you falsely accusing me of today, Ryan?”

  Hating the tension bristling between us as much as me, he huffs. We’re not friends, but we were—once. “The two police officers who arrested Izzy.”

  “Yes, and...” I leave my question open for him to fill in.

  He follows along nicely. “They’re missing.”

  I remain quiet, confident I haven’t heard him right.

  I didn’t.

  “Their patrol cars were found empty this morning in a wrecking yard on 93rd Street.”

  I freeze as disturbing notion after disturbing notion fills my head. Am I concerned for the officers’ well-being? No, I’m not. The bruises they inflicted on Isabelle were… words can’t describe what I felt when I saw the marks tainting her beautiful skin for the first time.

  I’ve never wanted to kill someone as much as I did last night.

  The only thing that stopped me from helming the yacht back to the dock and hunting down the men responsible was Isabelle’s big, chocolate eyes. They saw the disgust beaming out of me, but she was reading it in the wrong manner. I wasn’t looking at her in repulsion. I’d never look at her like that. The hatred pumping out of me for the so-called men who get off injuring women like that, I was beyond disgusted that any man would do something like this, much less a lawful man.

  I push the phone receiver in closer to my ear, my tone unrepentant when I say, “It wasn’t me, but they deserve any punishment they get.”

  Horrified by my lack of remorse, Ryan grunts. I doubt he’ll feel the same when he knows the entire story.

  “The bruises Isabelle displayed in the courtroom yesterday were nothing compared to the ones on her body.”

  Ryan inhales a sharp breath, hearing the words I didn’t speak the loudest. My woman was assaulted on my watch in my town. I’ll never forgive myself for that.

  “They’re cowards who should be grateful someone got to them before I did because my punishment would have been much more severe than any they’re undertaking or have already undertaken.”

  With my anger at an all-time high, I slam the receiver back onto the console, slamming it down three times for good measure. As a fire rages through my veins, I shift my eyes to the photo of Isabelle I placed on my desk when we returned from the cabin. That was only two days ago. It feels more like a lifetime.

  My heart drums against my ribs when I store her picture into the top drawer of my desk. I hate that I’m following Regan’s suggestion, but I also understand that this is one of the many steps required to ensure Isabelle’s safety. As far as anyone in Ravenshoe is concerned, Isabelle and I have never met.

  I’ve only just closed the drawer when a quick tap gains my attention. “Come in,” I instruct, not bothering to look up. Only a deranged man would dare to approach me today, so their visit must be important.

  When several long seconds pass in silence, I lift my gaze. A rather large-looking man with a military crew-cut stands just inside my doorway. He has his arms folded in front of his chest, ensuring I can see he’s bulked up for the occas
ion, and his lips are thinned into a stern line.

  “Are you Isaac Holt?” The stranger’s voice is gruff like someone who has swallowed a whole heap of gravel.

  I nod, more amused by his approach than worried.

  “So, you’re the man who stole Hugo from his family?”

  My smirk enlarges to a full, arrogant smile. It’s been a while since I’ve been accosted on my turf by a stranger. With how pitiful my mood is, this meeting could become very interesting.

  “You might want to get your facts straight before throwing accusations around.”

  After stepping around my desk, I move closer to the unnamed gentleman. His eyes watch my every movement, but just like Hugo, he doesn’t quiver in his boots from my furious glance. Stupid bastard.

  When I stop to stand in front of him, I realize he has a good two to three inches on me in height, much less width. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve taken down men his size with one punch, and I’m more than eager to see if I still have it.

  “I’m the man who saved Hugo’s life. Without me, he would have been dead years ago.”

  Chapter 14

  Isabelle

  Every step I take has my brows creeping up higher on my face. Hugo isn’t the slightest bit fazed by the opulent surroundings we’re emerging into. I’m on the other end of the spectrum. I’m in complete awe.

  “Your room is the second door on the right.” Regan houses her wool jacket into the coat closet that’s bigger than the walk-in closet in my apartment before spanning the distance between us. “Your room has an attached bathroom, but there’s a powder room off the living area to save your legs the walk if you need to use the facilities.”

  There’s an understatement of the century. This penthouse isn’t just massive. It’s ginormous. I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s an exact mirror of Isaac’s fuck pad next door. It’s just more impressive with earthy tones and the luxurious fabrics draped on nearly every surface.