by JA Huss
“Do you know who this is?” He jacks his thumb at Issy Grey.
“Nice to see you again, Issy. No hard feelings about last night, right?”
“I knew it!” she yells, jumping and kinda spinning in place like an over-excited puppy. “You did this! I knew it!”
“I’m gonna need to ask you some questions, Mr. Wells,” Agent Murphy says.
“I’m outta here,” Darrel says, getting up from his chair. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He walks towards the door without a second glance back at me.
“Thanks, Darrel. Remind me not to make you a real partner in crime, because you’d probably bail on me the first time things got heavy.”
He waves a hand over his shoulder as he turns the corner and disappears, ignoring my deteriorating mood. Which is why I keep him around. He kinda gets me.
“OK,” I say, clapping my hands and rubbing them together. “Issy, do you mind closing the door? Whatever this is, Wells Senior doesn’t need to hear about it. He’s got a bad heart.”
Agent Murphy kicks out and the door slams shut with a bang.
I smile. I’m not gonna let this day go to shit. I’ve got too many things in play to let one ex—lover? Friend? Whatever Ixion is—a jilted game player, and an FBI agent take away my Zen. “I think you two had better sit down and take a deep breath.” Issy Grey opens her mouth to snarl at me, but I hold up a finger and say, more forcefully this time, “Sit. The fuck. Down.”
She sits, he doesn’t. But that’s typical, right? Men.
“Did you approach,” Murphy says, “Miss Grey last night about a sexual fantasy fulfillment game?”
“Nope.”
“Liar!” Issy says, kinda yelling. Which makes her boyfriend here shoot her a look, which I think says, Let me handle this.
I look at Issy Grey, because I have a file on her, and I know she doesn’t let anyone handle something she can handle herself. So I expect her to put up a fight.
But she doesn’t.
Which piques my curiosity.
CHAPTER TWENTY - FINN
“OK,” I say, “Let’s just all calm down.”
“I’m calm,” Jordan Wells says. “It’s you two who might need a Xanax.”
“You have some nerve, you know that?” Issy is sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jordan’s desk. Her legs don’t even reach the ground. I mean, her toes do, but she’s kinda swinging her feet because she’s nervous. Which is adorable. And kinda makes me happy.
Jesus. What’s wrong with me?
“Did you or did you not have a conversation with Miss Grey last night about playing a sexual fantasy game?”
“No comment,” Wells says.
I just look at him, then remember he’s some kind of high-powered lawyer here in Denver and adjust. “OK. But I’m gonna take you down to headquarters for questioning if you don’t cooperate.”
Jordan shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Unless I’m under arrest and you’re prepared to handcuff me, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not doing anything.”
Issy sighs.
“Just make this easy, Wells. Just cooperate. Her fucking house was ransacked last night, OK? Someone broke in and went through her shit. Broke her things. Personal things. Things that meant something to her. And we think it’s got something to do with your game.”
“Number one,” Wells says, holding up a finger. “I don’t have to answer your questions. It’s called the right to remain silent. Number two, I have no business dealings with Ms. Grey whatsoever, isn’t that right, Issy?”
We both look at her. She shrugs. “I think you do and you’re just not telling me.”
“Number three,” he continues, “the very short conversation we had last night at dinner…” He looks at Issy again. “It wasn’t dinner. What would you call it? Drinks?” He shrugs. Issy looks like she might stand up and throat-chop him—and right about now, I’m silently rooting for her to do that. “Regardless, that conversation happened after we signed an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement.”
I force myself not to look at Issy. “So you’re hiding behind that.” Piece of shit.
“Look,” he says. “I’m not obligated to say anything to you, Murphy. But in the interest of making you get the fuck out of my office without causing a scene, I’ll tell you something useful.”
I wait for it, but he does one of those dramatic pauses. So I say, “Well, what is it?”
“I turned her down,” he whispers, then looks over at Issy. “You told him that, right?”
She sighs. Looks kinda scared and small. And I suddenly have a lot of hate for this lawyer.
“She told me that,” I say.
Which makes Jordan raise his eyebrows and look over at Issy again. “You better be careful. That NDA is no joke.”
“You and I both know that NDA means nothing if a crime has been committed.”
“What crime?” Jordan practically snorts. “If there’d been a crime you really would be arresting me. But instead, you’re here making idle threats trying to scare me into falling for your stupid federal interrogation techniques. I’m the most powerful defense lawyer in the Rocky Mountain region, Agent Murphy. And while that might not mean much to a guy who comes from DC”—it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows, because this means he’s been digging up dirt on me—“it means a lot here. Because I know every judge, every state congressperson, every local police chief, and even the fucking governor. So you’d better get your shit straight if you want to play bad cop with me. Got it?”
“If you’re not playing a game with me,” Issy says, “then why did you lie last night?”
“What did I lie about?” Wells actually has the gall to look confused.
“We called your office last night,” I say. “And we were told your entire office was shut down for a mid-winter holiday. So why lie? Why not just take the call?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - JORDAN
“Who called?” I ask.
“The fucking FBI called, that’s who,” Murphy says.
“No, who specifically?” I ask again. People, man. You gotta lead them down a path by the goddamned hand or they just don’t get it. Luckily, that’s my specialty. I am the best at swaying a jury. It’s like my God-given gift.
“I don’t know who. Someone from the fuckin’ office.”
“Don’t you think you should find that out?”
He just stares at me. So I scratch my neck, wait him out a few seconds, but he’s either unable to find the right connection or refusing to do so. I whisper, “Agent Murphy, if someone from your office said they called me last night, and they told you I was unavailable… well, you might have a problem in your organization.”
Which makes him blink.
I look over at Issy. “Whatever it is you think I’m doing to your life right now…” I shake my head. “That’s not me, Issy. I swear. Not me.”
“Then who?” she asks.
“Well,” I say, tapping some keys on my keyboard and pulling up her file. I point to the screen, which she can’t see since she’s facing the back of the monitor, and say, “Probably one of the very questionable people from your past. Eh? Maybe? Possibly? Could be?”
“Stop it,” Murphy says. “You don’t have to be a dick.”
“No, I don’t. And I’m not, believe me. If I were being a dick, you’d know it. I’m being immature and smug at the moment. But not a dick.”
“That right there?” Murphy says, pointing. “Is dickish.”
“Whatever you say. My point is, Issy Grey has quite the checkered past.” She looks at me, wide-eyed. “I’m the best, I think I just made that clear a few seconds ago. And if you were going to be one of my players, it was my job to make sure I knew the risks. And even though you’re pretty high up there in the risk department, Ms. Grey, I sat down with you as a favor to our mutual friend. And once I heard the specifics of your… needs… I decided to walk away. And that’s exactly what I did.”
“So you’re blaming her.” That’s Murp
hy.
But I can see in his eyes that he already knows everything I just told him. Issy just stares at me, blank-faced, unable or unwilling to comment further. So I continue.
“I know why you’re here, Agent Murphy.” Now I’ve got his attention.
“What?”
“It’s just my job, don’t take it personally.”
“You’ve been digging in my past?”
“Let’s just say… yes.” And I can’t help it, I smile.
“Is everything a game to you?” Issy is back now, pissed off. About me knowing her better than she thought, or knowing her new boyfriend, I’m not quite sure.
“Um. Pretty much, yeah,” I say. “Why not, right? Why not play life like a game? It’s as good a strategy as any.”
“You’re fucking with the FBI,” Murphy says, dead serious.
“Are you sure about that?” I say, leading him by the hand again. He just stares at me, so I continue. “Are you really sure about that, Agent Murphy? Because someone at the FBI, an organization to which you belong, fed you a lie last night about me being unavailable. Let me guess,” I say, looking back at Issy. “Something happened last night after our little chat?” She squints her eyes at me. “And they wanted to question you about it. You’re a very smart woman, Issy. I knew this intuitively, even before I started looking into your background. So you, rightly, said ‘Lawyer!’ And they countered with, ‘He’s unavailable.’ Am I right?”
She swallows, licks her lips, then says, “Close.”
“OK,” I say, folding my hands on my desk and glancing up at Murphy again. “So I was here last night. Pretty late, in fact. I didn’t get any calls. No calls came into reception, either. So…” I open my hands up. Obvious answer, people.
“You’re telling me my department is dirty,” Murphy says.
“Is that what I’m telling you?” I ask back. “Or is that something you already knew, Finnegan Murphy?”
“Good for you, you’ve got a file on me.”
Ah, he’s starting to get it now.
“This isn’t looking good for you, Wells. You’re playing a game you can’t win.”
But I just say, “Whoever makes the rules wins, Murphy. You know that just as well as I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - ISSY
Whoever makes the rules wins.
Well, I can’t argue with that.
We left Jordan’s office after that little remark. He encouraged us, actually. Got up, pointed to the door, and said, “If you don’t mind, please close the door on your way out.”
“He’s hiding shit from his father,” Finn says. “Did you catch that little remark?”
I did, but so what?
“We could take this to him. I’m sure Wells Senior would be very interested in knowing what his son—and full partner in his very high-profile law firm—is doing.”
“We could,” I say, looking out the window as we travel down I-25 towards the Tech Center. “But we’d be following the wrong leads.”
Finn is quiet after that. Quiet the whole rest of the way. We’re already off the freeway, turning into the hotel, when he finally says, “We’re gonna figure this out.”
“Yup,” I say. “We are. For sure.” And then I look at him. Wait for him to look at me as we pull up to the valet. “But it’s not going to be good. It might be better to just walk away.”
“What?”
“Just pack up my shit, leave the country—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Finn,” I say, turning in my seat. “That guy on TV this morning. Caleb Kelly? He’s fuckin’ Mob, OK? And your boss, partner, whatever the fuck he is, was standing next to him. The FBI is dirtier than you ever imagined and we, the two of us, are right in the middle of it.”
“We’re not running,” he says.
“No? Then what are we doing?”
“We’re gonna tell them to go fuck themselves.”
Which makes me laugh. Just a little.
“That is your creed, right?” he asks.
“It is,” I say.
“Then live by it, Issy.”
This hits me hard. “I do live by it.” And I seethe out the words. “Don’t think one night of sex and danger makes you an expert on my life, OK? You don’t know shit.”
“Then tell me.”
“Why should I tell you? We’re not even on the same team.”
“What team is that?”
“Hell if I know what team you’re on. But my team is called Issy Grey. That’s who I play for.”
Then, before he can comment further, the valet is at the car, opening up our doors. I get out, hike my purse over my shoulder, and look around until I see Suzanne standing in front of the revolving doors holding a stack of files in her arms.
“There you are!” she says, walking quickly over to me. “Oh, who’s this?” she asks, looking up at Finn.
“Finn Murphy, meet Suzanne Levy. Suzanne, Finn. Now let’s get to work. I’ve got women to inspire.”
Once inside we take the elevator up to the banquet floor and come out into a room overflowing with women. The registration tables are busy, the vendor tables are packed, and I let Suzanne lead me into a small room where we’ve got command central set up.
I’ve done a lot of these seminars over the past several years, but this is only the second one I’ve done here in Denver. I like this place. I like Chella, I like my little downtown office. I like the women I’ve met so far. I like the mountains. I even went skiing for the first time last month and liked that too.
But I can like a lot of places. I’m not partial to places. I’m partial to survival. And seeing Caleb’s face on TV… well, that’s enough to kick me into survival mode.
I shouldn’t even do this seminar because I’ve already made up my mind to run again and that just gives Caleb time to come find me. But I can’t let all these women down. Today’s seminar is free. That’s how this works. I give a free seminar, inspire them, and the ones with the money get the hope.
But that’s not how it’s gonna work today. I’ll be gone by the time they come looking for me. I have an online class ready to go just for this kind of emergency. They can take that. It’s free too. So I’m actually looking out for them. I’m thinking of them as I take care of myself, so I’m not gonna feel bad about this. I can interact with them online. I won’t leave them stranded. I’ll figure out a way.
I look over at Finn, who’s got one arm across his chest and one hand up to his mouth, like he’s thinking pretty hard about something. And since he’s staring straight at me, I can only assume it’s me he’s thinking about.
“OK,” Suzanne says. “It’s go time. I’ll go start the introductions.”
I nod at her. She knows something’s up, but she won’t ask. Not right before a seminar. Suzanne has been with me since my very first book. She was the first point of contact at the agency I submitted the proposal to. She saved it from the slush pile, pushed it hard, and when her boss said no, she called me herself.
Which was probably unethical on her part. But in her defense, she quit that job immediately and started working for me. We’ve been a team ever since.
Until now. Because this is all over. It was a good run. A pretty wild ride. I mean, looking back on all I’ve accomplished in the last eight years, it’s a miracle, really. Suzanne will go her way, I’ll go my way, and everything will be done virtually from now on.
“Hey,” Suzanne says, squeezing my arm. “You’re gonna be great.”
Which isn’t some meaningless affirmation to calm my stage fright. It’s not even about the seminar today. It’s about tomorrow. It’s written all over my face. It’s in my expression, playing out through body language. She sees it coming. She must just… feel it. And we’ve had a contingency plan in place since the very first webinar. She knows there’s more to my life than I tell the clients. Much more.
“Yeah, everything’s gonna be great,” I reply.
She smiles at me, then opens th
e door—letting in the dull roar of three hundred people out in the ballroom—and then closes it behind her, stifling it again.
I look at Finn. He says, “I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but whatever it is, don’t.”
I smile. It’s kinda real. I like him. He’s not too uptight, but not too easy-going either. Kind of a middle-of-the-road guy. Which I can appreciate. I spent most of my life living the highs and lows, riding them like a surfer rides a wave. I had no clue how much energy it took to live like that until I started doing yoga, and tai chi, and meditation. Life just got… simple when I let things go. And I’ve always had the kickboxing and the jujitsu, which kinda took all that stagnant energy and gave it a home.
Being Issy Grey has been bliss. But I wasn’t always Issy Grey. I found bliss once. I can find it again.
“Look,” I say, turning my back on him. “I appreciate your help and everything, but—”
“No buts, Issy. And let’s just not talk about it now, OK? There’s time later.”
“Sure,” I agree. Because I can hear Suzanne talking into the microphone in the ballroom. She’s talking me up. Telling them how we met, about the book, and the first seminar. Then finally, how many people have taken the coaching classes and graduated. Giving these newcomers hope by letting them envision themselves at the end of the journey.
And then she gets to the last part. The part where she finally has them welcome me to the stage.
So I look at Finn and say, “See you on the other side.”
And his expression changes and he knows what that means, but it’s too late. I walk through the door and out into a standing ovation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - FINN
I am Team Issy.
That’s all I know. That’s all I think about as I stand off to the side of the stage and watch her as she takes a room full of sad and desperate women and turns that into hope.
She starts with her story. And even though I wish I was hearing it in private, and even though I know this is probably only a fraction of what’s happened to her because no one shares everything in public, it satisfies me. It cements my feet firmly in front of her. It makes me want to fight her battles, keep her safe, and love her hard.