Page 196 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Fury hazes my vision when I lift my eyes to glare at him. His eyes are as murky as mine, his jaw just as hard, but nothing deters my attention from our cut-throat stare-down.
Ryan isn’t quite so lucky. When everyone stops what they’re doing to watch our charade, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. I’m used to gaining the attention of others, but he seems mighty uncomfortable with his new fame.
After removing his hand from my elbow, he runs it over his head, messing up his usually pristine haircut. “Unless you have a death wish, you need to leave. If they think this was you, they’ll hunt you down like a dog.”
I angle my head so I can peer into his eyes, which are now facing the taped-off crime scene. “Ifwhothinks this was me?”
A huff of disbelief spills from his lips. “Police protect their own.”
“Just like I protect what’s mine.” I take a step closer to him, pretending I don’t have Hawke’s watchful eyes boring a hole in the side of my head. “I already told you this wasn’t me.”
“They won’t ask you like I did, Isaac. They’ll shoot first, ask questions later.”
“Who will?” I ask again. “Jimmy Travell, married father of two?” I gesture my head to Jimmy, who smiles when he notices he’s gained my attention. “Or what about Mary L. Turner, mother of four boys? Her husband is a drunk, but she puts up with him for their children’s sake because she doesn’t want them growing up in a broken family.” I turn my eyes to a group of officers on our left. “Or perhaps it will be Bob, or Robert, depending on what mood he’s in? Or what about Carter, Peter, Lionel, or Sophia?” I point to each of the officers I’m referencing, undoubtedly proving I have some type of connection with over half the officers here. “Who’s going to prosecute me without first hearing my side of the story, Ryan? From what I’m seeing, the only person doing that is you, although your eyes are telling an entirely different story.”
“They’re not your friends, Isaac. At the first sniff of money, they’ll pretend they’ve never heard of you.”
“No, they’re not friends of mine, but they have benefited from what my empire has given this community. Furthermore, a lot of cops in Ravenshoe are corrupt, but not all of them are like that. There’s a decent number who are just like you, Ryan. Ask them if they think I did this. They’ll give you the same answer your eyes are revealing.” I tilt closer to him, ensuring he’s the only one to hear my next set of words. “I’ve never hidden my ruthlessness, so why would I hide it now? If this were me, I’d parade their worthless carcasses for the entire community to see. That way, any time a resident of Ravenshoe considers putting their hands onanywoman, much less mine, they’d think twice.”
With that, I turn on my heels and stride back to my car. All the questions I came here to have answered was done by absorbing the crime scene during my squabble with Ryan. The missing officers weren’t kidnapped by Col Petretti or anyone in his crew, but if the signature left as clear as day in the middle of the crime scene is an indication to their identity, I know who is responsible, and let me say, it isn’t who I was anticipating.
CHAPTER17
ISAAC
When a shot of whiskey hits the back of my throat, I bask in its familiar burn as it slides down my esophagus and past my icy heart before landing in my stomach. Whiskey is a wonderful entity. If I consume enough of it, I can forget, wipe the slate clean, overlook everything I’m precariously juggling right now. It can even take away the throb of my busted knuckles from my run-in with Hawke earlier today.
But no matter how much alcohol I consume, nothing can dampen my insatiable need to have Isabelle beneath me. I love the way her pupils dilate, and her breathing becomes panted when she teeters on the edge of ecstasy. The desire to encounter that’s irrepressible. I’ll never get enough of her.
After slamming down my shot glass onto the mahogany countertop, I signal to Tina, requesting another refill. She removed the bottle from my grasp thirty minutes ago with the explicit instruction that I needed to “slow down” on the amount of alcohol I was consuming.
I’m not drowning my sorrows. I’m fighting the urge to drive to Regan’s apartment and sneak into Isabelle’s room. My fingerprint is the only tool I need to gain access to the floor Regan’s apartment is on as it’s the same floor as myfuck pad. We have side-by-side penthouses. Regan’s is just more adeptly decorated with furniture, paintings, and ornaments. I never felt the need to fancy up my apartment for the guests I took there. They were only there for one reason, and it wasn’t to look at the furnishings.
A vibrating sensation steals my attention away from a group of men creating havoc for some of my female patrons on the dance floor. While shifting my gaze to my head bouncer, Travis, I pull my phone out of my pocket. With a simple lift of my chin, I instruct him to remove the Neanderthals from my premises before they disrupt the higher-paying, more valuable guests.
My heart thumps against my chest when my caller’s number identifies as known. It’s coming from the unregistered cell I gave Isabelle early this morning.
I hit the connect button before pushing my phone in close to my ear. “Isabelle, are you okay?” My tone is stern but riddled with anxiety. It’s a little after one in the morning, so I’m somewhat perplexed as to why she’s calling me so late.
When the loud thump of the bass streaming out of the speakers hung around my nightclub absorbs Isabelle’s reply, I head into my office. I want to say the quiet conditions appease my worry, but that would be a lie. Thick, angry blood surges through my veins when her silent sobs barrel down the line.
“Isabelle, what’s wrong?”
When my question arrives with more gut-wrenching sobs, I throw open the drawers of my desk, frantically searching for my car keys. When my hunt comes up empty, I thrust my hands into the pockets of my trousers with a sense of urgency. Suddenly, clarity forms.Tina. She removed them from the countertop after I’d consumed half a bottle of whiskey.
“Nightmare,” Isabelle hiccups through sobs.
The weight on my chest turns crippling. “It’s okay, baby, you’re safe. It’s just a dream, remember?” My voice alters from trembling with unbridled panic to a soothing purr.
While yanking my sleek black iPhone out of my pocket, I attempt to calm her down with words instead of my body. “Talk to me, Isabelle. Tell me what you did today, what you ate, what you watched. Anything.”
I hit the speed dial for Hugo’s number on my iPhone, then squash it to my opposite ear before rushing out of my office. This is theveryreason I was adamant about not leaving her alone. The ghastly scene she witnessed in the barn was mere days ago. She shouldn’t be left alone, day or night.
My teeth grit when my call to Hugo’s cell phone goes to his voicemail. I revert my attention to my cell. “Talk to me, baby. I’ve missed your voice so much tonight.”
When she fails to respond, I race toward the bar, prepared to hustle through the hundreds of patrons milling around the vast floor space. Mercifully, when the crowd sees me coming, they part like the red sea, giving me an unobscured path. When I snag my keys from the container Tina puts the drunken patrons’ keys in, she shoots me a wry look. I cut her off any words preparing to spill from her mouth with a stern glare. I don’t have time for her shit today. Isabelle needs me, and no one is more important than her.
“I’m on my way. You’re okay. You’re safe,” I assure Isabelle while sprinting to my car parked in the lot at the back of my club.
