Page 168 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
CHAPTER2
ISAAC
Isabelle’s pale face lifts from the stainless-steel table I was sitting at mere weeks ago when she hears the door creak open. Her big chocolate eyes are clouded with distrust, and her pupils are massive. When our eyes collide, her breath traps in her throat, stifling the sob rumbling in her heaving chest. Horror shreds through me as the weight on my chest turns crippling. Not even the curtain of hair hanging in front of her face can conceal the defeated look tainting her beautiful face.
The tears glistening in her eyes threaten to spill when her attempts to stand from her chair are thwarted by the shackles circling her delicate wrists and feet. Blood surges through my veins, heating my body with fiery warmth. They have her detained as if she’s a wild animal.
With my jaw clenched as firmly as my fist, I swing my eyes to Ryan. His jaw muscle spasms when he too notices they have Isabelle shackled to the table like a deranged criminal. After silently requesting for me to remain calm, he shifts his focus to the young male officer commanding in the room. He’s standing tall with his arms clamped to his side, and his gaze fixated on a microdot on the wall across from him.
His stance replicates a toy soldier about to go into battle, but the unrelenting quiver of his thighs weakens his impressive stance. He hasn’t stopped shaking since I entered the room. I’m not surprised. I can smell the fear vaping off him. Rightfully so. He should be petrified because if Ryan weren’t here, he’d discover the hard way of what I think about him shackling any woman to a table, much lessmywoman.
“Get those cuffs off her immediately.” Ryan’s surly tone rumbles through the room like a loud crack of thunder.
The young officer’s wide eyes float to Ryan. “T-t-they said she had to stay shackled. She’s an FBI agent, she’s dangerous—”
“She’s a fucking human being!” Ryan steps closer to the officer. Because they’re similar heights, Ryan can stare straight into the eyes while growling, “Get them off her now before I shackle you in her place.”
The officer’s head bobs up and down like a bobble-head toy. He fumbles his way to Isabelle, removing steel keys latched to his belt on the way. When his shakes cause him to drop the keys next to her shoeless feet, he unshackles her ankles first. They come away without too much force, but the indentations on Isabelle’s ankles reveal the fit was snug.
When he moves to open the cuff encasing her delicate wrists, I shift to the right, so we maintain eye contact. It will expose the anger clouding my face, but I’ll deal with that later. Right now, nothing but Isabelle’s well-being matters.
Once the final cuff is removed, Isabelle darts my way. Her beautiful scent permeates the air when I draw her into my chest before pressing a kiss to her sweat-slicked temple. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“You have fifteen minutes.” After jerking his head to the rookie officer, giving him his marching orders, Ryan shadows him out of the room.
I wait for the red light flashing above my head to switch off before moving to the only chair in the room. It’s the one Isabelle was shackled to. Once I sit, I remove the hairs stuck to her face before lifting her head via her chin. The wind knocks from my lungs when the first thing my eyes zoom in on is a large bruise on her cheek. It’s around the size of a baseball, and small red scratches are embedded in it.
After sucking in some big breaths to cool the fire burning me inside out, I drop my eyes to Isabelle’s. Hers are bloodshot and brimming with tears. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, her three words cracking out of her plump lips like gunfire.
When a blob of moisture careens down her cheek, my heart stops beating. I scrub it away with my thumb, genuinely terrorized by her tears. Color rushes back into my cheeks in a hurry when she nuzzles into my palm. Even during a crisis, she still yearns my touch.
I get comfort in that—more than I’d care to admit.
As my thumb swipes at the cupid bow in her top lip, I ask, “Have you talked to anyone yet? Have they officially questioned you?”
Fresh tears nearly roll when she shakes her head. “No, they arrested me before shackling me to the table.”
When her eyes flick to the shackles sprawled on the floor, I grip her chin to return her focus to me. “You can’t talk to anyone without my lawyer present. Do you understand?”
The urgency in my tone adds to her confusion, but she nods her head all the same.
“Not anyone, Isabelle. Not Brandon, not Theresa, not even Ryan.”
My eyes drift to the two-way mirror during the last half of my statement. I don’t need to see Ryan to know he’s watching. I can feel it in my bones.
After following my squinted gaze, Isabelle nods. She knows there’s more to this than either of us realize. “Is Megan dead?” she questions in a hushed whisper.
“I don’t know.”
I wish I could give her more confirmation, but I’m in the dark as much as she is.
Unease pummels into me when she returns her eyes to mine. They’re still filled with moisture, but it is the apprehension behind them causing my greatest worry.
I discover what has her all twisted up in knots when she asks, “Did you do this?” She balances her forehead on mine, ensuring Ryan will neither hear nor see her words. “Because if you did, I’ll accept the plea they’re offering. I’ll do anything to save you—”
I cut her off by swiping my hand through the air. What she’s saying doesn’t make any sense. Why would she offer to admit guilt for a crime she supposedly committed? Unless…
