Page 102 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
The envelope was barely in my hot little hand for a second before Alex snatched it from my grasp, then stormed out of the interrogation room. With tension high, I spent the afternoon hiding in the supply closet. None of my fellow agents uttered a word to me, but their questioning looks were enough to have me laying low.
Although my career should have been at the forefront of my mind, it wasn't. Isaac was. I tried his cell numerous times the past two hours. All attempts to reach him were thwarted. My calls went straight to voicemail, and my text messages were unanswered.
Apparently delusional, I waited under the awning for Hugo for thirty minutes this evening before the fog in my head cleared. I’d become so accustomed to him collecting me every night, it became the norm, so it took longer than I’d care to admit for me to register that he’d no longer be picking me up.
By the time I walk into my apartment building, I'm soaking wet from the tips of my hair to my nearly snap-frozen toes. I'm beyond freezing, but it’s nothing compared to the iciness surrounding my heart. In some ways, the downpour was a godsend. The people rushing past me to enjoy their weekend were unaware not all the dampness on my cheeks was rain. I held back my tears for as long as I could, but now that they’re flowing, I’ll have no chance in hell of reeling them back in.
A fresh batch of tears stings my eyes when I stagger through the front door of my apartment. A man with an aura like Isaac permeates the air, clinging to the environment hours after he’s left. I can still smell him throughout my apartment.
My hurried strides to the bathroom stop when I spot the rumpled sheets on my bed. Only twelve hours ago, I was in that bed telling Isaac I loved him. I do love him. I love him more than words will ever explain. That’s why I have to make this right. He needs to know I didn’t do anything wrong, and that I’ll support him through this.
I rush into the bathroom to take one of the quickest showers I’ve ever had. When the scorching hot water hits my toes, they burn from the sudden change in temperature. Once I’m donning a fresh set of clothes and dry shoes, I sprint out of my apartment, grabbing my umbrella from the entryway closet on the way by. Because it's a Friday night, it takes a lot longer than usual to wrangle a cab.
By the time the taxi pulls into the driveway at Isaac’s private residence, it's a little after nine o’clock.
“Thank you.” I hand the driver my credit card to pay the exorbitant fare.
Once he drives away, I jab my shaky finger into the intercom button on the wrought iron security box. Several long, tedious minutes pass with my call remaining unanswered. Assuming Isaac isn’t home, I head back to the road while yanking my cell out of my pocket. If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve asked the cab driver to wait. Alas, my mind is nothing but a blurred mess of confusion tonight.
Another twenty minutes pass before headlights beam down the eerily black, isolated road. While sheltering my eyes from the blinding light, I pace toward the vehicle that has come to a stop at the entrance of the driveway. My quick strides halt when I realize it's Isaac’s black Mercedes-Benz town car, not the taxi I was expecting.
Seconds feel like minutes when the driver’s side window slowly glides down. My normal heart rhythm returns when Hugo’s apprehensive eyes peek past the tint. “It’s not a good time, Izzy.”
“I know, but I need to see him.” My voice is barely a whisper since it’s full of shame. “I have to explain—”
“You have a lot of explaining to do, but believe me, now isnotthe time.”
I take a step back, shocked. This is the first time Hugo has been anything but friendly. Although his angry tone stabs my heart with fresh wounds, nothing can leash my campaign. “Please, Hugo. I’ll get down on my hands and knees if I have to.”
I’ll do anything to see Isaac again, to articulate my side of the story. Once Isaac realizes I was defending him, he might be open to the possibility of forgiving me. “I never meant to hurt him. That was never my intention. I love him, Hugo.”
Hugo exhales harshly while scrubbing the scruff on his chin. After taking in my watering, pleading eyes, he punches the security code into the black box with force. My heart drums my ribcage more with every creak the gate makes as it slowly opens.
Once the gate is opened, Hugo leans over to open the front passenger door. With my heart in my throat, I slide into his car without a peep oozing from my lips. The driveway leading to Isaac’s private property has always been impressive, but it feels so much longer when awkward tension is firing in the air. Although Hugo doesn’t say anything, the unease bouncing off him is disgusting. It stifles the air of oxygen, making not just my insides a mucky mess but my skin as well.
When we come to a stop outside the front stairs, I curl my hand around the door latch. I'm just about to fling open my door when Hugo hits the central locking button, trapping me in the car. With furrowed brows, my eyes stray to him. Now is not the time for jokes.
I realize I have the situation all wrong when he asks, “Are you carrying a weapon?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never… I don’t… I’m not here officially.”
I'd never come to Isaac’s house on work-related matters. I'm only here for personal reasons.
“I was asking for safety reasons, Izzy.” Hugo’s voice is raspy and jam-packed with emotion. “I’ve never seen Isaac like this before. I honestly don’t know how he’ll react when he sees you.”
I grit my teeth, battling not to sob. I hate that they did this to him—I did this to him.
I’m still lost as to everything that is happening, so I can imagine how bewildered Isaac is. It feels like I’m trapped in a horrible nightmare. I'd give anything to wake up and start this day anew. My rendition of Groundhog Day would be perfect right now.
After reading the truth from my eyes, Hugo unlocks the doors. I suck in a big breath to calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach before clambering out of the car and climbing the stairs of Isaac’s residence.
My eyes snap to Hugo when we break through the large glass door. Torn cushions, ripped paintings, upended furniture, and broken ornaments cover nearly every surface from the entryway and living room. “What happened?”
Hugo joins me at the side of the trashed living room. “The two hours they had Isaac in the interrogation room, they did an in-depth search of his property.” He shakes his head, his cheeks reddening. “No room was left untouched.”
The photographs that once adorned Isaac’s mantel are scattered on the floor along with shattered glass, the frames broken from being handled so roughly. The insides of the sofa cushions have been yanked out, leaving white fluff strewn over the beautiful woolen rug Isaac made love to me on. Not even his expensive white leather sofas were spared. They have knife gashes down the middle of them, reducing them to trash instead of the priceless antiques they once were.
Noticing the direction of my gaze, Hugo murmurs, “You never know what someone might be hiding inside a couch.”
