Page 169 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“Did you go to Megan’s motel this afternoon?”
The shock in my tone reverberates through her but not enough to stop her from shaking her head.
“Did you see Megan at all today?”
She once again shakes her head. “I was arrested in the alleyway of my apartment building.” She stares at me in shocked silence for a minute. “I assumed you organized for Henry’sassistancewith Megan when you spoke to him earlier today.” She chokes on the word ‘assistance.’
“No, Isabelle.” I rub my chest, relieved by how less pained it is. “I didn’t arrange anything.”Yet.
I thought she had beat me to the punch. I did contact Henry for a matter pertaining to Megan, but it wasn’t in regard to having her killed. I was seeking her current location. Henry Gottleisthe mob boss of New York City, so if Megan were in his stomping ground, his men would be the best crew to find her.
Henry assured me I’d be the first to know when Megan was found, but now I’m wondering if he took my request for assistance further than demanded. His offer of retribution has been dangling between us for over seven years. Perhaps he thought the length of time that passed between favorsrequired more diligence.
“When I left your building, I drove straight to my office. I only left when Brandon informed me of your arrest.”
The apprehension tainting her beautiful face relaxes. “Then, why am I here—?”
Before all of her question leaves her mouth, the interrogation room door swings open. Ryan stands just outside of it, his face deadpan. “You need to leave now.” His deep tone relays the urgency of his request.
I return my focus to Isabelle, saving her lower lip from being gnawed by her teeth in the process. “I don’t know why you’re here, but Iwillfind out. Just remember what I said. Don’t talk to anyone until my lawyer, Regan, arrives.”
Her lips purse. They’re extra plump since she was grazing her teeth over them. “Is Regan a man or a woman?”
“Does it matter?”
Her head shake is unconvincing, much less her murmured, “It does to me.”
I lose the chance to reply to her babbling when Ryan walks two paces into the room. “If you want to help Izzy, Isaac, you need to move now.”
Incapable of ignoring the anxiety in his voice, I cup Isabelle’s cheeks with my hands, being extra attentive not to touch her bruise, before pressing my mouth to hers. Even though her lips are dry and quivering, intimacy still passes through us from our embrace. I kiss her with everything I have, tasting her tears and her worry while also assuring her I’ll be by her side throughout this. I won’t stop until she walks out of this station at my side.
When her eyes pop back open, the harshness tainting them has softened. My kiss did what I had intended. It calmed her as only I can.
“I’m not goinganywherewithout you.” I point to the mirror Ryan was standing behind earlier. “I’ll be right behind that mirror. Okay?”
When she nods, fresh tears almost spring down her cheeks, but she manages to reel them back in—just. “Okay.”
It feels like a knife is stabbed into my chest when I rise from the chair, taking her with me. Then I’m almost certain an artery has been nicked when I place her back into the chair alone. After a final swipe of her moisture-free cheeks, I spin on my heels and stride to the other side of the room. My heart thrashes against my chest more with every apprehensive step I take. This is almost as hard as when I left Ophelia crying over her unconscious brother on the blood-soiled boxing mat. I can only pray the results today will be starkly contradicting.
When I enter the corridor, I turn back to face Isabelle. Her teeth have once again caught her bottom lip, but she’s giving it the fight of her life to maintain her dignity. I keep my eyes locked on hers until the reinforced door slams shut, trapping her in a nightmare as violent as the storm brewing inside of me.
“This way.” Ryan nudges his head to a door next to the interrogation room. “We need to move quickly.”
When he pivots on his heels and stalks toward the door, I closely shadow him. The anger I’m struggling to maintain roars to the forefront of my mind when we enter the room. Speakers hanging from the ceiling amplify Isabelle’s barely audible sniffles. The volume control on the panel near the two-way glass cranked to the highest setting is to blame for this.
After cocking my head to the side, I glare at Ryan. He coughs to clear his throat of annoying nerves before trying to downplay his snooping. “I was merely doing the job I am paid to do.” He foolishly steps closer to me, unaware I’m seconds from blowing my top. “From what I heard, Isabelle needs the best lawyer money can buy.”
“If you heard her right, you’d know she didn’t do anything wrong!” My tone is as dangerous as my anger. I’m mere seconds from going on a rampage. Usually, I keep a cool, rational head. That’s not the case when Isabelle is involved. If you endanger her, you endanger yourself. I can’t say it any simpler than that.
“It wasn’t what I heard Isabelle say.” Ryan’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, his tone surprising even for how tense things are between us. “It was what I heardthemsay.”
When he nods his head to the two-way mirror across the room, a growl emits from my lips. Standing across from Isabelle is Theresa Veneto and her unnamed male partner. Theresa’s stance is hostile with her arms folded in front of her chest, and her blazer removed to show Isabelle she’s carrying a weapon. The male agent is more laid-back. He’s too busy staring at Isabelle’s tits to authenticate Theresa’s good-cop-bad-cop ruse.
If Theresa is aiming to scare Isabelle, she needs to devise a new tactic. Without the slightest quiver to her words, Isabelle strengthens her stance before looking Theresa dead-set in the eyes to snarl, “I’m not speaking to you without my lawyer present.”
My breath hitches halfway to my lungs when she swings her eyes my way. She appears to be staring straight at me. I shouldn’t be surprised. Not even a Mack truck could come between us, let alone a flimsy piece of glass.
Our connection is lost when Theresa demands Isabelle to take a seat at the same time Ryan suggests for me to get her the best lawyer I can afford. While yanking my cell out of the breast pocket of my suit, Isabelle retakes the chair she was sitting in earlier. Her lips are furled into an angry snarl, and her tears are long forgotten since the anger searing through her body has dried them.
