Page 106 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“How often are the fights scheduled?” Five thousand dollars a fight was impressive, but not if I only fought once a month.
When Dimitri shrugged, my lips hard-lined.“Not interested—”
“What if I guarantee you five thousand a week,evenif you don’t fight.”
My heart whacked out a funky tune. My future goals and aspirations would greatly benefit from five thousand dollars a week. Any deliberations ceased when Dimitri said, “Five thousand dollars a week, and my father becomes your owner.”
My jaw ticked. “Myowner?”
Dimitri smiled and nodded, like the idea of me being owned would impress me. It didn’t.
“Nobody owns me.”
“Everyone is owned.” Dimitri’s voice was haunted and shallow.
I stepped closer to him—so close, I could smell his fear.“Nobody owns me.”
Dimitri’s eyes flashed to the side when car doors being opened broke through the silence teeming between us. Two large men in expensive suits stepped out of a black Escalade. One of the men, whose attention was fixated on me, pulled back his suit jacket to show he was carrying a semi-automatic weapon.
“As I said, everyone is owned.” Dimitri signaled for the men to stand down before he joined them. Just before he slid into the back of the Escalade, he drifted his eyes back to me. “I’ll be in contact.”
When his taillights blurred into a sea of many, I shifted my focus to Cormack. “Who the fuck was that?”
He shrugged because back then, we didn’t have a clue who we were dealing with.
CHAPTER5
ISABELLE
Ipress my palms on the vanity sink before raising my eyes to the mirror. Disheveled—that’s the only word I can use to describe myself. My hair is oily and unkept since I haven’t washed or brushed it in over forty-eight hours, and my skin is pale, which amplifies the dark rings under my eyes. I look horrific. Rightfully so. I spent my weekend wrapped up in my bedsheets, but I barely slept a wink. My sheets are the closest thing to Isaac I have, so I haven’t let them out of my sight.
Some good came from my lack of sleep, though. A small portion of the confusion in my mind lifted. Alex must not have unearthed anything incriminating during his invasive search of Isaac’s home, or he would have never let Isaac leave during questioning. It’s immensely satisfying knowing the Bureau doesn’t have enough evidence to issue an arrest warrant on Isaac, but I’m still confused as to why he was arrested to begin with. Alex would have needed something substantial for the judge to agree to a search warrant, but for the life of me, I can’t work out what it is.
I do know one thing. No matter what it is, I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. Isaac isn't the man his FBI file portrays. He's kind, honest, and has the biggest heart. I'm so confident in my assumption, even with him giving clear signs he wants nothing to do with me, I’ll continue defending him. I’ll fight for justice right alongside him, not stopping until his name is clear of controversy.
After a steaming hot shower, and a good thirty minutes striving to remove the disheveled look from my face, I walk out of my apartment. It’s a crisp, dreary morning. The rain brought in a cool change, and my wool jacket and beanie-covered head make it easy to ignore. The smell of rain and fresh-cut grass filters in my nostrils when I exit the rotating glass doors of my building. Birds are chirping in the distance, and the constant honk of impatient motorists announce morning commuter traffic is at full capacity.
Since the rain has cleared, the sidewalks are more popular than they were Friday night. In true modern times, most travelers conduct their journeys with a cell phone attached to their hands. It’s rare to see anyone without an electronic device these days. It’s nice to keep in contact, but since they rarely look up from their phones, I’m constantly elbowed or barged.
Not wanting to get trampled, I move to the furthest edge of the sidewalk. Traffic is dense, but my odds of being hit by a car would be significantly less than the number of elbows I’ve already been subjected to this morning.
Two blocks down, the beat of my heart increases to a steady pace. A dark blue sedan is tailing me. I wouldn’t have noticed if its speed wasn’t matching mine. Commuter traffic is thick, but it’s not heavy enough they need to drive at a walking pace.
While adjusting my satchel, I inconspicuously peer over my shoulder. The sedan’s dark tint is already a hindrance, much less the sun beaming off the windshield. I can’t see any of the driver's features. When the light ahead of me changes to red, I sprint across the intersection, breaking away from the shadow following me. He can't follow me since there are three cars between us.
By the time I reach Harlow’s bakery, I’m covered with a sheen of sweat and suddenly regretting my thick coat. After closing the bakery’s front door, I lean my back against it, close my eyes, then suck in several big breaths to settle my flipping heart.
Once I’ve regathered my composure, I pop my eyes back open. The nerves I’ve just expelled return full force when I’m subjected to Harlow’s furious wrath. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, and her hazel eyes, which have tears, are glaring at me. Her lips twitch like she's about to speak, but no words seep from her mouth. It isn’t that she can’t talk. She just doesn’t want our showdown witnessed by the handful of customers enjoying the breakfast items her bakery supplies every morning.
With a shake of her head, she spins on her heels to enter the kitchen at the back of the bakery. I take off after her, smiling a greeting to Renee, one of her workers, on my way past. My brisk pace slows when I notice Harlow’s clenched fists. She’s angry, but it has nothing on the disappointment in her eyes. They reveal what her anger centers around. She knows my secret.
“Legally, I couldn’t tell anyone…” My words trail off when she huffs. She’s pissed I’m giving her the same old excuse as everyone else, and she has a right to be. She deserves better than that. “I’m still me.” I step into the firing zone. “I’m the same person you became friends with. I just don’t do the job I said I did, but nothing else about me is different.”
A disbelieving chuckle rumbles in her chest. “And your relationship with Isaac? Was that you? Or Izzy, the FBI agent, diving under the sheets for the good of society?”
Ouch.That’s a sting my bruised ego did, but I deserve her anger. I did lie to her. “I understand that you're angry—”
“I’m not angry, Izzy. I'm pissed off. You lied… for months!”
