Page 33 of Unraveling an Enigma
“What Hugo told you is true, Isaac; if you wait too long…”
Any further relationship advice is halted when my stern gaze drifts across the room to glare at Hunter.
Hunter, my head of security, is leaning against the doorjamb of my office. With a full, scraggly beard covering his entire jawline, dark hair slicked back in place with a whole heap of hair gel, and a vast collection of tattoos, he has what could be termed a rough and rugged appearance. When I first interviewed him for a position within my empire, my initial judgment of him was founded more on his outer facade, instead of his impressive security capabilities. He soon proved his worth when he hacked into my supposedly unhackable security system and siphoned my bank account of two million dollars. He was so brazen, he did it right in front of me. I fired my head of security the same day Hunter joined my team. That was a little over four years ago.
“Was that Isabelle?” Hunter questions, pushing off the wall and striding into my office.
His hurried pace slackens when my narrowed eyes glare at him. “Yes, but if the search you completed on Isabelle had been more thorough, you would have already been aware of that,” I snap, my tone clipped and abrupt. My mood is still irritable from my earlier run in with Isabelle.
Hunter swallows harshly. “I stand by my search,” he mutters under his breath.
“Then obviously I need a new head of security,” I quip.
“When you find the guy who hid her personal information so deep even I couldn’t find it, I’ll personally hire him myself as my replacement,” Hunter offers, his tone relaying the truth in his bold statement.
At my request, Hunter undertook a thorough investigation of Isabelle the weekend she stayed in my apartment. His investigation failed to yield any real leads. He supplied me with an expired copy of her learner’s permit from when she was sixteen. It showed she resided in a coastal town near San Francisco called Tiburon, but other than that, her private file was as scarce as her bank accounts.
It may seem pretentious for me to privately investigate people in my life, but in my position, I have no choice. I’ve been burned in the past, so I’ve become somewhat cautious of allowing anyone into my life without knowing their extensive personal history. Generally, my searches are reserved for staff or business associates, but Isabelle intrigued me enough to warrant her own special investigation.
Hunter plops into the leather chair across from my mahogany desk. “This lady, on the other hand, reads like an open book,” he says, throwing a manila folder filled to the brim with papers onto the top of my desk. “Is there something you failed to mention when you asked me to investigate her?”
My teeth grinding fills the silent void in my office. Hunter smiles while running his hand along his thick beard. A grunt escapes my lips when I open the manila folder and run my eyes over the extensively noted documents inside. Hunter has always been meticulous with the amount of information he unearths about anyone I ask him to investigate. Well, except for Isabelle, but with everything going on in my life right now, I don’t have time to sit down and read a one hundred plus page report.
“I have a meeting with Regan in ten minutes. Can you give me a brief rundown?” I request, my tone firm.
Hunter’s hand shoots down to a hemp bag he dumped on the floor when he first strolled into my office. His blue eyes peer up at me as he pulls out an iPad. “Did you have Roger scan your office this morning?”
“Yes.” I snap. “He didn’t find anything today.”
After I was arrested, Hunter arranged to have my office, apartment, and private residence scanned for listening devices. Two bugs were found in my home, and one was in my office. Now, Roger examines my office twice a day, instead of his usual once over before I arrive.
“Well, I’m assuming some of the information on her private life you are already aware of,” Hunter says with his brows arched high and a cheeky grin on his roguish face.
My jaw tightens and my eyes thin, wiping his arrogant smirk right off his face.
“The basic run down is Theresa Veneto is thirty-two years old. She lives in Hopeton; she is unmarried, has one child, and her current position is an investigator in the Internal Affairs Department of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Oh, and last, but not at all least, she has a major lady boner for a businessman named Isaac Holt.”
I shoot him a warning look. I’m not in the mood for his cheeky disposition today. Hunter runs his hand over his beard again. It is something he always does when he is nervous.
“How long has Theresa been with the Internal Affairs Department?”
“Since June thirteenth,” Hunter replies, not even peeking at the information in front of him. Hugo continuously jests that Hunter’s brain is like a sponge. It absorbs every minor detail and retains it for future use.
“What was she doing before she worked for Internal Affairs?”
Hunter stares into my eyes with his brow cocked. “She was investigating you.”
“Was or is?”
“Was. Due to no credible evidence against you.” His eyes snap to mine. “You can thank me for that later,” he says with a cheeky wink.
A subtle grin etches on my mouth. Hunter’s skills the last few years do warrant some credit.
“Approximately seven months ago, her team was assigned to another target. The details are a little shady, but she was either demoted to IA, or she asked to be transferred there,” Hunter informs me.
His tattooed-covered hand darts across the table. He flicks over a few pages of the extensive report he presented me with, then his gaze lifts to me when he stops at a small selection of surveillance photos.
“That’s her current target,” he says, his voice as rough as his appearance.
