by Shandi Boyes
“Can we get this over quickly?” Regan folds her arms in front of her chest before cocking a brow. “My client has been through a traumatic weekend, so she wants to go home to recover.”
Ryan nods as his eyes turn to me. “The gentleman who kidnapped you has agreed to give us the name of his abettor and other vital information if you'll speak with him.” His eyes shift from me to Isaac. “He wants to talk to her alone.”
I nod to Ryan’s request at the same time a stern “No” escapes Isaac’s lips. His tone makes it clear there will be no further discussion on the subject, but I still peer at him, pleading for him to reconsider.
He deems Enrique a threat to my safety, but I know there's something more to Enrique’s motive for kidnapping me. Besides, I won’t be able to move on from my ordeal until my questions are answered, and the only man who can answer them is Enrique.
“Isaac—”
“No, Isabelle. This is not negotiable. You're not speaking to him.” His tone is low and dangerous as his anger rises.
“He will lead us to the police officers who assaulted Isabelle if she talks to him. We’ll be able to bring their bodies home to their families before Christmas.”
My eyes dance between Ryan and Isaac, shocked by Ryan’s confession. “What bodies?”
The longer they remain quiet, the more tears burn my eyes. I don’t know what hurts more—the fact Isaac is still harboring secrets from me, or that he doesn’t think I can handle the truth. I'm stronger than Isaac thinks I am. My uncle raised me to be a strong, opinionated woman, and it’s time for him to learn that.
“I’ll talk to him—”
“No, Isabelle!” His voice is so loud, he startles Regan.
“I love you, Isaac.” My admission immediately dampens the fury burning in his eyes, but it makes what I say next ten times harder. “But I need to do this. I need to trust my intuition didn’t steer me wrong. Not just with Enrique but with you as well.”
He takes a step back like he was slapped by my words. My throat tightens, upset that I’ve caused him distress. I love him in a way that’s completely unexplainable, and to some, I’m sure it appears to be nothing but lust, but its more than that. I love him for the way he protects me and keeps me safe. I love that he guards me as if I'm his most prized possession and that no harm will ever come to me when I'm with him, but I need to do this to prove my intuition was right. To prove what my gut was telling me was true. Not just with Enrique, but with Clara as well.
“Please let me do this,” I beg, stepping in front of him. “You can stand right outside his door. If anything happens, you’ll be there in an instant, but I need to do this, Isaac. I need to trust my gut. It’s never steered me wrong before, so I want to prove it wasn’t wrong this time either.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re in the hospital corridor outside of Enrique’s room.
“Don’t get within touching distance of him, Isabelle.” Isaac’s tone is rough and stern like how he reprimands his staff members. “You can kill a man in seconds just by using your hands—” He suddenly stops talking as his grip on my hand tightens. “I changed my mind, you’re not doing this.”
When he drags me back down the hallway we just walked, I dig my feet into the sparkling marble tiles, trying to stop his furious steps. My efforts are fruitless. Someone of my height and weight is no contest for a man with impressive strength like Isaac.
“Stop, Isaac,” I demand when his yanks on my arm become painful. “You’re hurting my arm.”
The instant the word ‘hurting’ seeps from my lips, his abrupt strides halt, and he relinquishes my wrist from his firm grip. As his pupils widen, his eyes drop to my arm, seeking any damage. “Jesus… did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.” I want to rub the pain in my arm, but I lace my fingers instead, hating the devastation flooding his eyes.
“Isabelle—?”
“I’m fine.” I step closer to him. “But I want to do this. I won’t get within touching distance. I’ll stay in your line of sight at all times, and I’ll be in and out within five minutes, tops.”
His eyes dart between mine for several heart-thrashing seconds before he peers past my shoulder. Ryan is standing outside of Enrique’s hospital room door. His pistol is holstered on his hip in plain sight, and the clasp on his holster is unlatched, prepped, and ready if he needs to draw his gun quickly.
“Five minutes, then we can go home.”
Isaac’s gaze rockets back to me. The anxiousness veiling his usually stout eyes lessens, replaced with the spark of interest. As the veins in his neck thrum, his nostrils flare when he inhales deeply. My knees curve inward as desire melds through my body, clustering in my core from the wickedly sinful smile etched on his mouth.
“Five minutes. You’re not to move from the end of the bed, and you must leave the door open. As soon as this is done, we go home, together. My house, my bed, my ru—”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Isaac.”
His curling lips have my pulse racing. “No, it isn’t a negotiation. These are a set of terms you must adhere to if you want to talk to your brother.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “And if I fail to adhere to your rules?”
My breathing stills when he takes a step toward me. “I'll take you over my knee and spank you until you do submit.”
Holy cupcakes, I think my womb just combusted.
I know he’d never intentionally hurt me, but behind closed doors is an entirely different story. My inner vixen is a little more deviant. She provokes him until his dominance is unleashed. She loves having his unbridled fury released on her in the bedroom. The bites, the hard slams of his cock, the demanding control, she basks in it all. I'm a strong and independent woman, but I happily surrender all my power to Isaac in the bedroom because the rewards for my submissiveness are earth-shattering.
“Okay,” I whisper, shamelessly allowing my hankering to overrule my rational-thinking brain. “Five minutes, then we will go home.”
My panties dampen from his provocative smirk. He moves closer, catching my wrist before lifting it to his mouth. My heart drums against my ribs when his well-carved lips kiss my palm before he places it on his chest. His heart’s thumps almost match the intense throbbing between my legs.
Ryan smiles uneasily as we stride toward him. “Don’t get too—”
“Too close. I know,” I interrupt with a roll of my eyes.
Ryan grins. “If you feel you’re in any danger, cross your fingers behind your back, then I’ll move in.”
My lips set into a hard line as I nod. I need to remember that Ryan and Isaac are looking at Enrique as a kidnapper and possible murderer, whereas I'm looking at him as the five-year-old boy who played with cars on the dirty kitchen floor while I prepared us a bowl of stale cereal for dinner.
I smile to erase the anxious lines carved in Isaac’s forehead before walking through Enrique’s hospital room door. Sensing my presence, Enrique lifts his head. I don’t know how I missed our similarities at the beginning, but there's no doubt he's my brother. The bone structure of his face is similar to mine but more cut and manly, his hair is the same shade, and he even has a lone dimple in his cheek, instead of the two most people have. My uncle always joked that it was where I was shot in a previous life.
The only difference between us is Enrique’s eyes. Although they appear identical to mine, his are colder and unreadable.
“They said you wanted to speak to me.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes for how timid my voice comes out. I'm stronger than this. I was raised stronger than this.
“Come closer.”
My gaze shifts back to the window partition Isaac is standing behind. “No, I'm fine here.”
His brows furrow. “I won’t hurt you, Isabelle.”
“You drugged me, kidnapped me, then tied me to a chair. You’ve already hurt me.”
Metal hitting steel bounces around the room when Enrique scrubs his hand across his face. My teeth gri
t as I shake my head. They have him handcuffed to the bed, yet they’re still worried about him hurting me.
“If Col arrived at the warehouse without you being bound, he would’ve never believed you were there against your will.” Enrique’s tone is stern yet full of sorrow.
I nod. Col’s file portrays he was paranoid about being infiltrated by undercover agents. Apparently, he never worked out that Tobias was an agent.
Enrique’s eyes study my body before assessing my face. “Did he raise you right? The man who bought you?”
My heart squeezes. “You knew I was sold?”
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Not until Col arrived in Las Vegas a few months ago. I could see the excitement on his face when he requested to see Vladimir. He looked like a man who had discovered a genie in a bottle. He thought you were his pot of gold under the rainbow.”
“But Vladimir didn’t care that he’d found me. He wasn’t interested.”
Enrique’s lips twist. “He had already made his money from you.”
Surprisingly, his words don’t cause any sting. Over the years, I learned what type of man Vladimir is. That’s why I appreciate every day that my uncle saved me from that life.
“If Vladimir weren’t interested in what Col had to offer, why did you come to Ravenshoe? Why were you helping Col?”
“I wasn’t helping Col,” he rebuts, his tone flat and angry. “I came because I wanted to see if Col’s ramblings were true, or if it were just the incessant gibberish of a man past his prime. The instant I saw you, I knew what he said was true. You're identical to our mother in every way.”
“Except my eyes,” I murmur, recalling Col’s taunting words.
“Yes,” he confirms with a nod. “When I saw you, it made me wonder if the other rumors I’d heard circulating were true… the ones about our mother. Col was getting sloppy, taking uncalculated risks. It was the perfect opportunity to finally discover the truth.”
He inhales a big breath that puffs his chest before locking his dark eyes with mine. “I would’ve never let him hurt you, Isabelle. I had no intention of letting him take you. I just wanted to know the truth. I asked family members about our mother all the time. All they said was that she was dead, and that was that.”
A dull ache spreads across my chest. His eyes reflect the pain of a little boy who grew up without a mother.
When I take a step closer to him, Isaac moves into the doorway. “Isabelle.” His tone is a clear warning that I'm breaking our agreement.
I stop pacing and lace my fingers together.
Enrique’s eyes dart between Isaac and me. “On vash zashchitnik.”
My brows furl. My Russian is so poor, I can only understand the first half of his sentence, which was, “He is your,” but I don’t understand the last word he's saying.
“Druzhok.” I gesture my hand to Isaac.
Enrique nods. “On khoroshiy chelovek.”
I smile. “Da. Ochen’ khoroshly chelovek.” I cringe when my pronunciation comes out sounding like a first grader reading words from a Russian translator dictionary.
Enrique swallows as his gaze shifts to Isaac. “I knew using Isabelle as a lure would be the only way I could force Col out of hiding. I unearthed his intentions for her from the two officers who assaulted her during her arrest. Col had a bounty on her head. The only stipulation on the contract was that she had to be brought in alive.”
Isaac steps into the room. “You were the anonymous caller.”
Enrique nods. “Yes, I’d been following Isabelle for a few weeks when I witnessed her arrest.” His lips set into a straight line as his eyes turn to me. “Vladimir may forget you have his blood running through your veins, but I can’t. You're still my family, even if you don’t have the Popov name.”
I scrub a rogue tear off my cheek. “But they didn’t deserve to die for what they did.”
The officers who arrested me were an unfortunate misrepresentation of the men and women who serve our country every day, but that doesn’t warrant their death.
Enrique’s eyes darken as his gaze shifts between Isaac and me. He runs his hand across his brow before his eyes settle on me. “They’re not dead. They had useful resources that kept them alive.”
“Such as?” Isaac’s tone is low, but his stature is still impressive.
“They know who framed Isabelle for murder.”
I inhale a sharp, quick breath. I was under the assumption Col was the person who initiated those false claims.
Before I can reply, four heavily guarded riot officers enter the room. They uncuff Enrique from his bed before hoisting him to his feet. Two additional guards fasten shackles on his ankles and wrists before walking him to the door.
“Where are the officers?” Isaac’s voice is stern yet panicked. “Where did you house them? I need to know who was framing Isabelle.”
Enrique smiles. “V vashey yakhte.”
When Isaac turns to me, wanting me to interpret what he’s saying, I nervously chew on my lower lip. I have no clue what he’s saying.
“In your… ” I fumble out.
“Yakhte,” Enrique repeats.
I shrug, wordlessly advising I don’t understand what he's saying.
“Lodka,” Enrique says as the guards continue dragging him toward the door.
Just before they exit, Enrique’s smiles. I eye him peculiarly, surprised he’s so calm while flanked by guarded officers.
“Don’t worry, Isabelle. Ya idu domoy.”
In a matter of seconds, he’s ushered to a waiting elevator at the end of the corridor. The last thing I see is his broad smile before its covered with a black hood roughly yanked over his head.
Isaac cradles my tear-stained cheeks with his large hands, so his thumbs can clear away my tears. Once they’re taken care of, his remorse-filled eyes stare into mine. “Did you understand what he said? Where the police officers are?”
Ryan’s eyes float up from the floor, but he remains quiet, happy to leave the interrogating to Isaac.
When I nod, more tears spill from my eyes. “I didn’t understand Yakhte, but I know what Lodka means.” I swallow to relieve my parched throat before murmuring, “They’re in your boat.”
Isaac’s curses under his breath before he strays his eyes to Ryan. “The police officers who assaulted Isabelle are in my yacht at the Vela De Keys Marina.”
Ryan’s lips set into a sardonic line as his nostrils flare.
“I already told you it wasn’t me,” Isaac snarls, clearly pissed. “Enrique advised Isabelle of their location.”
“And why would he do that? Why would he share information with a woman he kidnapped? Are you trying to say he suddenly got a case of the guilts?”
Isaac’s jaw muscles spasms as his fists clench into tight balls.
“Enrique is my brother.”
Isaac cranks his neck to me. “You don’t have to explain anything to him, Isabelle.”
“I know that, but I’m sick of all the secrets. My whole life has been one huge secret. It’s time to wipe the slate clean, so I can start afresh.”
Ryan’s brows lower. “The man who just left here is Enrique Popov,” he says like I must be mistaken on his identity. “As in son of Vladimir Popov.”
“I know.”
A heavy set of wrinkles indents his forehead. He looks utterly baffled.
Isaac tries to ease it. “Isabelle was raised by her uncle after being sold to him by Vladimir when she was six years old. Her Uncle Tobias isn’t really her uncle.”
Ryan is shocked, but he maintains his cool-cat composure. “Can you speak Russian?”
I grimace. “Not very well.”
“Did you understand what Enrique said in the corridor when he was leaving?”
I twist my lips. “I don’t remember what he said. I was too flustered over his arrest to pay proper attention.”
Air whizzes out of Ryan’s nostrils as he struggles to stifle a chuckle over my daftness. When I glare at him, he
pulls a small black recording device from his pocket. After fiddling with the gadget, Enrique’s voice bellows out of the speakers.
“Don’t worry, Isabelle. Ya idu domoy.”
I cringe, hoping I don’t make a fool of myself. “I’m… going… ” I lift my gaze to Ryan. “Can you play it again?”
When he plays it for the second time, the fog clouding my brain scatters away, and his sentence becomes readily distinguishable. “He said ‘I’m going home.’”
Ryan stiffens, his pupils widening before he sprints into the corridor. Isaac and I quickly shadow him. The air is forcefully removed from my lungs when my eyes lock in on the elevator at the end of the hall. Four heavily guarded riot officers are lying unconscious on the elevator floor.
Enrique is nowhere in sight.
Chapter 10
Isaac
I slide my cell out of my pocket and move to a window. After ensuring Ryan and a handful of police officers milling around Enrique’s room aren’t paying attention to me, I flip open the screen.
Done.
It’s the simplest word, but it causes the largest grin to stretch across my face.
When I enter the corridor, Isabelle’s head lifts to glance at me. She's sitting between two female officers who are no doubt asking her a flurry of questions responsible for the tired expression on her face. Even exhausted, she's as ravishing as always.
I raise my finger into the air, requesting a minute. When she nods and smiles, I hit the speed dial on my phone and walk around the corner. Henry answers on the very first ring.
“Isaac, how is your Katarina?”
A smirk etches on my mouth. “She's good. Safe.”
Isabelle has spent the past three hours giving statements regarding everything that transpired this afternoon. The police have nothing. No leads. No witnesses. Not even any surveillance footage. All they have is Enrique entering the elevator with the officers, then the frame freezes for not even five seconds. Once it’s restored, the four police officers, although unconscious, are unharmed and lying on the elevator floor.