Page 12 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“My name is Isabelle Brahn. I’m a Federal Agent. My number is 5586718. I need you to patch me through to Alex Rogers, head of the Ravenshoe Division,” I inform her as my eyes flick between the doorman and Isaac.
“Patching you through now.”
Alex’s phone rings several times, making me worried he won’t answer. Just as I’m about to disconnect the call and try again, he finally answers.
“Alex Rogers,” he snaps down the line.
“Alex, it’s Isabelle—”
“Did you mess up my coffee order again? Black with two sugars. It isn’t that hard, Isabelle.”
Anger lines my face. “No, I didn’t mess up your order.”
Although his coffee is now sitting at the bottom of the garbage bin. If he keeps speaking to me so rudely, I may fish it out and serve it to him from the trash.
“Why isn’t the surveillance team following Isaac?” I question gruffly, trying my hardest to simmer my anger.
Alex grunts. “He’s still in bed.”
My brows furrow as my gaze drifts to Isaac sitting in the overpriced restaurant sipping on a cup of coffee. Even without seeing his distinctive eyes, I can’t mistake him. He is too attractive not to notice.
“He’s not in bed, he’s right in front of me having breakfast with a lady at a restaurant on the corner of Welsh and First Avenue.”
While Alex summarizes a reply, I glance back into the restaurant. Time stands still when Isaac’s head suddenly lifts to the window. He appears to be staring straight at me.
With my heart in my throat, I dash around the corner, praying he didn’t spot me spying on him.
“Are you sure it’s him, Isabelle?”
“Yes,” I assure, my pitch as high as my heart rate. “I’m one hundred percent certain it’s him.”
Alex barks orders at everyone surrounding him, sending the flurry of activity I’ve witnessed every day the past month barreling down the phone.
“We’ll be there in five minutes,” he informs me before disconnecting our call.
I lean against the outer wall of the restaurant to take in some big breaths. I’m clutching my phone so tight, my knuckles are white. I never knew surveillance was so thrilling. I always envisioned it as spending hours eating donuts and busting to use the bathroom, but it’s much more exciting than that.
Or maybe it isn’t surveillance that has my heart palpitating so fast it feels like it’s going to escape my chest cavity. Perhaps it’s seeing Isaac again?
“Bring the car back around,” says a ruggedly handsome voice I immediately recognize.
Plastering my back to the brick wall, I peer around the corner. A sizable potted hedge aids in keeping me concealed. Standing just mere feet from me is Isaac. Even from this distance, his commanding aura is highly notable.
As if he has spotted my gawk, he yanks his cell phone away from his ear so his narrowed gaze can scan the street. He stops seeking me when the lady he greeted in the restaurant stands beside him. When she lifts a cigarette to her mouth, Isaac lights it for her with a gold lighter.
Isaac’s date is attractive, mid-thirties, with shiny black hair cut into a fierce bob. Her body is fit, well-groomed, and covered in a feminine, black designer pantsuit. Ignoring the pang of jealousy forming in my chest, I raise my phone to snap a picture of her. This may be the FBI’s only opportunity of capturing her face.
In the silence of the morning, my camera click is easily audible.
Shit!
I splay my back on the wall, the roughness of the brickwork scratching my delicate skin. Softly, I curse over my stupidity.How could I have forgotten to turn the sound off on my phone during surveillance?My heart flips as my panic surges, confident they heard the clicking noise.
After many calming breaths—and a few more expletives—I peer back around the corner. Isaac’s black Mercedes-Benz is parked in front of the restaurant. His acquaintance is already seated in the back passenger-side seat. Isaac places one foot into the car before turning his eyes in my direction. I’m confident he has spotted me spying on him through the green hedge, but I can’t tear my gaze away. I’m trapped, captivated by his entrancing eyes.
Several tension-riddled seconds pass before he shakes his head and slides into the back of his car. The instant his shiny black vehicle glides down the street, I crumble onto the concrete sidewalk, knowing without a doubt that I’m in way over my head.
That wasn’t just thrilling, it was highly addictive.
