“You worked together on Isaac’s case. That means he sees you more as a friend than a foe.” Her last two words are barely heard over the splintering of wood. “Isaac. . .”
“Goodbye, Ryan.” Isaac disconnects my call, his farewell fast but not fast enough for me to miss the warning in his tone. I’ll pay for my tease. Maybe not this week. Maybe not next month. But it is coming.
I stare at my cell for several minutes, contemplating my next move. I’ve got nothing to lose reaching out to Alex, so why am I hesitating?
Because you don’t want to face the truth. Savannah isn’t hiding a secret from you, Ryan—she was just hidingfromyou.
Ignoring my inner monologue, I dial the number for the local FBI field office. The operator directs my call to Alex’s private cell not even two seconds later.
“Alex Rogers,” a deep, gruff voice greets.
“Hey, Alex, it’s Ryan. Ryan Carter.” I’m tempted to add on my credentials, but when Alex grunts, acknowledging he understands who I am, I don’t bother.
“What can I do for you, Ryan-Ryan Carter?”
The mock in his tone shocks me. Alex has never been a jokey type of guy. I can’t recall seeing him smile once when we worked together on Isabelle’s kidnapping and attempted murder charges. I’m fairly certain only one thing will cause a smile to creep across his face: the arrest of Isaac Holt. Hate is a strong word, but I’m reasonably sure it is the right word to describe Alex’s dislike of Isaac.
“I was hoping to get your help on a potential espionage case.” It might be a stretch, but if I don’t make my investigation sound interesting, Alex won’t give me any leeway.
“Espionage?” You can hear eagerness in his voice.
“Yeah. I’ve only got a name, but if I get any more, I’ll extend a branch to your team.”
“What’s the name?” Alex asks with curiosity in his tone.
I swallow the brick in my throat before replying, “Savannah Fontane.”
Fingers tapping on a keyboard sound down the line before Alex grunts. “Nah. I’ve got nothing.”
He’s lying. A man as controlled—and, quite frankly, anal—as Alex doesn’t use words like “Nah.” He would also never admit to having nothing, even when he has sweet fuck all.
“You’ve got nothing?” I double-check, my tone advising I didn’t miss his lie.
“Nope. Nothing.”
I clench my jaw. I don’t need to see him to know he is lying. I can hear it in his tone.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Ryan-Ryan Carter?” he asks a short time later.
You not being such a wanker would be great.
Instead of saying what I really want to say, I reply, “What about any information on an Abby Rowe? Do you have anything you can share about her?”
I don’t know what inspired me to ask. It could just be a coincidence that Abby’s name was placed under my wipers on the same day I ran into Savannah again, but I’ve never been a fan of flukes. It may not be full of roses, but only you influence your destiny. That way you can’t blame the outcome on anyone but yourself.
“Abby Rowe,” Alex babbles, drawing my focus back to him.
My heart beats in an unnatural rhythm when he asks, “What do you want to know?”
Chapter 14
Savannah
"You parked on the roadside again?" Jet asks, chuckling to hide his suspicion.
I nod, preferring to lie without words.
“Do you want a ride to your car?” Hope echoes in his tone. He has offered me a lift every night the past week. I always deny his request.
