Page 64 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
“Alex told me about the payment between Isaac and Vladimir today,” I share when he pulls out a replica of the FBI folder Alex handed me earlier.
Brandon isn’t shocked by my admission, revealing he’s aware of their dealings. “This isn’t regarding that.”
He sits in the space next to me, except a little closer, so our knees brush. The remorse clouding his eyes has my nerves sitting on a very steep cliff. My heart is pounding so furiously, I’m shaking like I’m cold.
After removing a six by ten-inch photo from the folder, he apprehensively hands it to me. The air in my lungs is forcefully evicted when my eyes lower to the picture. “No.” I snap my eyes up to Brandon, soundlessly begging for him to tell me what I'm seeing isn’t true. “It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry, Izzy.” Terror grips my heart as my greatest fear comes to fruition. “It’s true.”
Chapter 25
Isaac
“Stop searching, she’s just walked in.”
Not giving Hunter the chance to reply, I snap my cell phone shut and turn my furious eyes to Isabelle. She left a note on the kitchen countertop three hours ago saying she’d return in an hour. I wasn’t happy she left without saying goodbye, but since she took Roger with her, I appeased my anger.
When an hour and a half ticked by, I called Roger. Jealousy engulfed me when he said he dropped her off at Brandon’s apartment an hour earlier. I’m trying to learn to control the vehement jealousy issues I have when it comes to Isabelle, but once another thirty minutes went by, and she still wasn’t answering her cell, I had Roger knock on Brandon’s door.
He answered but advised Roger that Isabelle had left forty-five minutes earlier. As untrusting of Brandon as I am, Roger searched his apartment. He was telling the truth. Isabelle had somehow snuck out of Brandon’s apartment building without being detected by Roger.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been panicked out of my mind.” I stand from my office chair and march toward her, my anger unmissable in my brisk strides. “I’ve had half my security team searching for you.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re sorry,” I retaliate angrily, yelling. “I’ve been going crazy, and all you can say is you’re sorry.”
She doesn’t respond. She just keeps her gaze planted on the floor.
“Isabelle…” I want her to look at me while I’m speaking to her.
Her lips quiver when her eyes lock with mine. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I said I’m sorry.”
The anger scorching my veins dampens when I spot the tears forming in her eyes. “What happened? Did somebody hurt you? Are you hurt?”
My eyes scan her face and body searching for evidence of any injuries that I almost miss the shake of her head. “I'm all right.”
She's lying.
“I went for a walk. I needed to clear my mind.”
Now she's telling the truth.
“Clear your mind of what, exactly?” I sound calm, yet I'm anything but.
As she adjusts her hideous satchel on her shoulder, her gaze dances around my office, unable to maintain my eye contact. Something doesn’t feel right. She’s never been so evasive before. She's too quiet and skittish. She’s never acted this way around me.
After removing her satchel, I throw it onto the couch before gathering her in my arms and striding to my desk. The hard knot in my stomach lessens when she nuzzles her nose into my neck and inhales deeply. I sit in my office chair, then pull her in close to my chest, vainly trying to secure a grip on her since it feels like she's slipping away. I wait, impatiently, for her to talk. Isabelle can’t control her need to know everything. She blurts out questions before her brain can process them because she communicates with words. Where I, on the other hand, express myself physically.
It takes several long, tedious minutes before she finally speaks, “I want to go back to Tiburon.” When I stiffen, her head pops off my chest. Her eyes are even wetter now. “Not forever. Just for a few days or a week to finalize some things there.”
My breathing resumes, although agitated from the cagey cloud hampering her usually bright eyes. “I can arrange for someone to do that for you. You don’t need to go back there. I’ll have someone in my team take care of it.”
“I want to do it.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “It’s…personal. I don’t want strangers going through my belongings.”
I brush a stray hair off her cheek that looks like it’s been stained by tears. “Okay, I’ll arrange for us to go to Tiburon sometime in the new year.”
Her pupils widen as she swallows harshly. “Umm… I was thinking about going this week.”
