Page 125 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
At my request, Hunter undertook a background search of Isabelle the weekend she stayed at my apartment. His investigation failed to yield any real results. He supplied me with an expired copy of her learner’s permit from when she was sixteen. It revealed that she resided in a coastal town near San Francisco called Tiburon, but other than that, her file was as scarce as her bank accounts.
It may seem pretentious of me to investigate people in my life, but in my position, I have no choice. I’ve been burned in the past, so I’m cautious about who I allow into my life. Generally, my searches are reserved for staff or business associates, but Isabelle intrigued me enough to warrant her own special investigation. Although frustrated with Hunter’s lack of information, it made the chase even more inspiring.
Hunter plops into the leather chair across from me. “This lady, on the other hand, reads like an open book.” He tosses a manila folder filled to the brim with papers onto my desk. “Was there something you failed to mention when you asked me to investigate her?”
My teeth grinding together stuff his laughter into the back of his throat. While he scrubs his beard, a trait he always does when nervous, I open the folder. A grunt parts my lips when my eyes run over the extensively noted documents inside. Hunter is meticulous about the amount of information he unearths, but right now, I don’t have time to read a one-hundred-plus-page report.
I sink lower into my chair. “I have a meeting with Regan in ten minutes. Can you give me a brief rundown?”
Hunter pulls an iPad out of the hemp bag he dumped on the floor upon entry. “Did Roger scan your office this morning?”
“Yes.” I snap. “He didn’t find anything… today.”
After I was arrested, Hunter had my office, apartment, and private residence scanned for listening devices. Two bugs were found in my home, and one was in my office. Now, Roger examines my office twice a day instead of his usual once-over before I arrive.
“From what I unearthed, I’m assuming you know a good whack about her private life…” His arrogant smirk is wiped off his face when I growl. “All right, here are the basics. Theresa Veneto is thirty-two years old. She lives in Hopeton, she's unmarried, has one child, and her current position is an investigator in the Internal Affairs Department of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” His smile returns. “Oh, and last, but not at all least, she has a major lady boner for a businessman named Isaac Holt.”
I shoot him a warning look. I’m not in the mood for his shit today. I’m at my tether. “How long has Theresa been with IA?”
“Since June thirteenth.” Hunter doesn’t sneak a glance at the information sitting in front of him. Hugo continuously jests that his brain is like a sponge. It absorbs every minor detail to retain it for future use.
“What was she doing before IA?”
Hunter arches his brow. “Investigating you.”
“Was or is?”
“Was. Due to no credible evidence against you, she was removed from your case.” His eyes snap to mine to give me a cheeky wink. “You can thank me for that later.”
A subtle grin etches on my mouth. His skillset does warrant some credit, but I’ll never tell him that.
“The details are a little shady, but Theresa was either demoted to IA or she asked to be transferred there.” His tattoo-covered hand darts across the table to flick over a few pages of the extensive report he presented me with. “That’s her current target.”
Blood surges through my veins when my eyes drop to the surveillance photos displayed. The top picture is a photo of Isabelle and Theresa standing eye to eye in the entranceway of Isabelle’s apartment.
“Why is IA investigating Isabelle?”
Hunter places his jean-covered ankle onto his knee before gliding his amused eyes to me. “For conspiring with you.”
“They're investigating their agent for doing the job they paid her to do?”
Hunter’s lips crimp as he shakes his head. “Now, the slap mark on your cheek makes sense.”
His eyes float over my left cheek, which is still burning from the slap Isabelle inflicted on me over an hour ago. I’ll be frank, my cock turned to stone when she slapped me. An angry Isabelle is just as ravishing as a jealous Isabelle.
Hunter drops his ankle from his knee before his elbow takes its place. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m gonna say it. Isabelle didn’t rat you out.”
A half-chuckle/half-grunt escapes my lips. “What is it with all the men surrounding me not seeing past Isabelle’s ruse? First Hugo, then Cormack, now you. I thought I was the only fool who couldn’t see past the wool she pulled over my eyes.”
Hunter slants his head to the side, not the least bit confronted about the repercussion he may ignore by saying, “Because we’d happily rot in jail just for the opportunity of tapping a woman who looks like her, let alone having her more than once.”
My back molars smack together when his eyes lower to the photo of Isabelle on my desk. Usually, my response would be much more severe, but I'm off my game, distracted by the momentous personal endeavors I’m currently undertaking. You’d think my arrest would be at the forefront of my mind. It isn’t. I have more pressing issues to handle than the FBI’s concerns about who I can or cannot dine with.
Hunter smirks, pleased with my response. “And from the way your jaw is ticking, and you look like you’re about to kill me, I’ll assume you’d accept the same fate for another night between the sheets with Isabelle.”
I don’t refute his allegation. There’s nothing to dispute since it is factual.
“As I said earlier, Theresa’s operating system is severely lacking in security. It didn’t even take me ten seconds to get this.”
