Page 98 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“You’ll get me fired.”
He chuckles a laugh so thick, it rattles through my body before stopping to swell my heart even more.
Actually, getting fired could be the best thing for our relationship.
“Good afternoon, Izzy,” Hugo greets me, rolling down the window of Isaac’s town car.
“Harlow threw a couple of extra treats in the bag for you.”
I hand him a cup of coffee and a white bag stuffed with freshly baked goodies. His eyes bulge when he spots the scrumptious treats Harlow has supplied him with. Ever since I found out Isaac has Hugo shadowing me, I added Hugo into my morning and afternoon coffee orders. I’ve tried numerous times the past several weeks to tell Isaac I don’t require Hugo’s services during working hours, but Isaac is adamant that if I’m not with him, Hugo will be with me.
Hugo must be bored out of his mind sitting in a car for a minimum of eight hours a day. I figure if there’s anything I can do to ease his boredom, I’ll do it. Coffee and cakes might not be much, but it’s better than nothing.
“If this storm ends up brewing, wait under the awning of your building, and I’ll pull up at the front.” Hugo gestures his head to clouds in the sky.
“All right.” I smile. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
The hairs on my arms bristle when a cold breeze shivers through my body. Goosebumps form and my body shudders, the air is riddled with gloomy darkness.
When I step into the foyer of my office building, my heart stops beating. A hive of frantic activity flurries around me. Agents run in all directions gathering bulletproof vests and holstering pistols onto their waists. My heart thrashes my ribs as panic scorches my veins.
Brandon rushes toward me. He yanks the coffees out of my grasp, dumping them into a waste bin in the foyer.
“You need to get your vest on.” He places a bulletproof vest over my head.
“What’s going on?”
Brandon doesn’t grace me with a response. He just continues putting my bulletproof vest on me before handing me my FBI-issued revolver I usually store in my desk drawer.
“We have a five-minute window. Move in quickly, secure the target, and move out. This needs to be done fast and with minimal fuss,” Alex yells over the buzz of activity.
“Who are we arresting?” I ask anyone who might be listening.
“Let’s go. Move, move, move!” Alex screams, ushering the agents out the double-glass doors.
Brandon and I shadow the other agents hustling out of the office building at a frantic pace. My heart plummets into my stomach when they race across the street and storm into Isaac’s nightclub.
“Get on the ground!” is yelled over and over again by numerous agents. Their screeching roars through my ears so loud, it overtakes my frenetic pulse.
Riddled with fear, I adjust my position to improve my view. With every shaky step I take, I pray we aren’t here to arrest Isaac. A sharp ache stabs my chest when the image of Isaac standing in front of a handful of agents with their guns drawn comes into my peripheral vision. Isaac’s livid eyes glare at Alex. His nostrils are flaring, and the tick of his jaw is noticeable even with me being halfway across the room.
“Get on the ground,” Alex sneers, directing his gun at Isaac’s head instead of his chest.
My heart constricts as time stands still. “Please, get on the ground, Isaac,” I silently chant.
Isaac’s infuriated gaze shifts sideways. I can’t breathe when our eyes lock and hold for several terrifying seconds. I wordlessly plead for him to get on the ground before Alex or one of the other agents shoot him.
Even with numerous guns pointed at him, Isaac’s dignified stature beams out of him. His eyes never relay his fear, they merely convey his anger and disgust.
“Please get on the ground.” My appeal is more a plea than a demand.
The agents surrounding Isaac grow panicked when he storms away from them. His long, powerful strides as he rushes my way quickens my pulse, but this time, it’s fear, not euphoria responsible for its spike.
After holstering his gun, Alex grips Isaac’s shoulder. He attempts to tackle Isaac to the ground, but Isaac’s pursuit to reach me is too strong for Alex to overcome. Isaac’s determination is unnerving and solely focused on me.
My legs quiver when I raise my gun to Isaac’s erratically panting torso. Tears well in my eyes so fast, they burn from the sudden rush of moisture.
“Please get on the ground,” I beg, my nerves so rattled, my gun shakes in my hand.
