Page 195 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“I warned him. He swung first.” I’m not the least bit sorry. You don’t disrespect me on my turf and not anticipate repercussions for your actions. “He should be grateful I only inflicted one punch.”
Hugo aims to conceal a chuckle by coughing. His attempts are woeful. With his fists clenched at his side, Hawke stands from his chair, sending it toppling backward in the process. He glares at Hugo, giving him the same death stare he awarded me only an hour ago. It subdues Hugo more than it ruffles his feathers but not enough to stop his laughter.
“Hey, I warned you, yet you still came out swinging, so you deserved to be knocked out.”
“You’ll be kissing the pavement if you don’t shut your mouth.”
Hugo smiles, not the least bit confronted by Hawke’s threat. “Bring it on, big boy.” He bounces foot to foot while jabbing the air with his fists. His mood is the most carefree I’ve seen it in the past five years.
I scrub my hand over my head. As riveting as this family reunion is, I have more pressing matters occupying my time. The most vigilant, “Why aren’t you with Isabelle? I told you not to leave her side until this mess is sorted out.”
Hugo’s playful banter stops before he cranks his head back to face me. “She’s okay. Ryan and Regina are with her. When Tina called to say two bulls were going to battle in your office, I thought I better get here before you killed him.” His reply gives away a fatal flaw in my empire, but I’m too focused on what he says next to award it my full attention. “Ryan is with Izzy as there’s been a new development in her case.”
A knot forms in my stomach, but I remain quiet, waiting for him to continue. Mercifully, he doesn’t keep me hanging for long. “Izzy noticed that the bullet recovered from the scene had a volcanized material attached to it. She believes whoever is framing her recovered the bullets from the tires she shot out Saturday morning. I called Roger on the way here. He took the Audi to be repaired at a mechanic on 93rd Street. It’s still there as they had to order special tires.”
As the pieces of the puzzle click together, I shoot my eyes to Hawke. I learned quickly not to form an opinion on someone without first fully unearthing who they truly are, but I don’t have time to deliberate on his reasons for being here. We don’t have a second to spare, much less the hours it will take to unravel someone as complex as him.
I return my eyes to Hugo. “Can he be trusted?” I jerk my chin to Hawke during the ‘he’ part of my question. Hugo is my most loyal employee, so I’ll trust him if he says I can speak openly with Hawke in the room.
Hugo nods without a pause for thought. “Hawke ain’t a tattler, so you can be assured nothing will leave this office.”
When his eyes drift to Hawke, he nods, agreeing with him.
“All right.” I cough to clear my throat, praying this isn’t the one time my intuition leads me astray. “The two male police officers who brutalized Isabelle during her arrest went missing last night. Ryan said their patrol cars were found in a junkyard on 93rd Street.”
Hugo’s brows tack together. “Are they trying to pin this on you or add more charges to Izzy’s false accusations?”
“I don’t know. Ryan straight-up asked if I had anything to do with it. I don’t think he would have notified me that they’re missing if he truly suspected I was the assailant.”
After a few seconds of deliberation, Hugo peers at Hawke. “You up for a drive?”
When Hawke jerks up his chin, I gather my jacket from the coat rack in the corner of my office. It’s halfway on when Hugo says, “Leave this to us, Isaac. You need to get some sleep.” The genuine concern in his eyes appeases my need to jump in with an immediate retort. “When was the last time you slept?”
I fasten the buttons on my coat before replying, “I’ll sleep when Isabelle is back in my bed where she belongs. Until then, sleep is the last thing on my mind.”
Not giving him the right of a reply, I exit my office. Both men closely shadow me.
Nine police cruisers, two CSI vans, and one pissed-off detective confront us when we arrive on the scene at 93rd Street. Although Ryan’s scorn can’t be heard over the clicking of CSI cameras, there’s no doubt it was peppered with curse words. His lips are as harsh as the glare he’s giving me.
After shoving a handful of documents into the chest of a slightly overweight African American lady seated in the passenger seat of his unmarked police car, he quickly spans the distance between us. His fast, efficient steps have him reaching us before we even get close to the police tape securing the premises from prying gawkers.
“You can’t be here.” His tone is firm, yet panicked.
“Me? Weren’t you supposed to be watching Isabelle?”
Hugo doesn’t need me to voice the urgency of the situation. He jumps into his car, the squeal of his tires heard for the first two miles when he takes off in the direction of Regan’s apartment building.
“Izzy is fine. She’s tougher than you think, Isaac. She scored well aboveallher male counterparts in weapons training at the academy.”
I’m not surprised by Ryan’s testimonial. Isabelle displayed perfect aim when she shot out Hugo’s tires.
“Besides, I didn’t leave her unattended. I passed Brandon on my way out. He said he’d stay with her until Hugo returns.”
Anger bristles through me as my fists scrunch into firm balls. If he were hoping his comment would soothe my hesitation, he’s way off the mark. If anything, I’m more frustrated now than I was earlier.
The twitch in my jaw grows more rampant when Ryan seizes my elbow in an attempt to drag me away from the police tape.
“This will be youronlywarning. Get your hands off me.”
