“It’s fine, Izzy. Go and enjoy your weekend off.” His eyes relay his appreciation of my offer to help.
I don’t grace him with a reply. I just remove my coat and hang it over the back of Brandon’s jacket flung over a spare chair. Brandon grins at my silent response. Once he finishes rolling up the sleeves of his crisp blue business shirt, he pulls out a handful of manila folders from the closest box and gestures for me to take a seat opposite him.
His grin enlarges to a full smile when I mumble, “You’re paying for the pizza.”
* * *
Brandon's eyes lift to mine as he snags the last slice of pizza out of the grease-lined box. "So we have worked out Delilah is a cradle snatcher, dating a man six years her junior. Her husband Henry Gottle the third, Isaac Holt and Cormack McGregor went to the same university," he says through a mouthful of cheese pizza.
“Yep. Cormack and Isaac were roommates, and Henry was their RA.”
“Henry now works as a promoter for the UFC in New York City, and he hasn’t had any known contact with his father in over five years.”
"Nearly six," I interrupt, checking the information my Uncle Tobias noted in his file of Henry Gottle III. "Isaac's fighter Jacob Walters was a UFC fighter before he was issued a two-year probation for assault on a gentleman named Callum Parker. Jacob retaliated when Callum brutalized his on-and-off-again girlfriend, Lola. Isaac paid Jacob's extensive legal bills."
"But why would Isaac be interested in organizing a fight for Jacob in the UFC? Wouldn't he make more money by keeping him in his private fighting circle? The rumors are those fights can range from five thousand to over one hundred thousand a fight," Brandon asks.
“This is why.” I hand him an arrest warrant for domestic abuse filed three years ago for a Curtis Parker. “That is Callum’s brother, Curtis. Curtis is a contracted UFC fighter. His contract is locked up so tight, he can't fight anyone not in the UFC for at least the next three years. Jacob and Curtis fought early in Jacob's UFC career. That is the only match Jacob was defeated in so far in his illustrious career. After that match, the referee was cited for biases. Maybe if Isaac can organize this fight for Jacob, Jacob will continue to fight in Isaac's fighting ring?"
“So Jacob is the one forcing Isaac’s association with Henry. It has nothing to do with the mob. Jacob just wants a chance at a fair rematch?” Brandon asks a short time later.
Smiling, I nod. “Henry’s ex-wife Delilah Winterbottom started working at Destiny Records one month before her husband filed for divorce. Destiny Records is owned by Isaac’s best friend, Cormack. Some may say it is a coincidence, but I think Isaac did Henry a favor by getting Delilah out of his hair on the hope Henry would help him find a way for Jacob to fight Curtis.”
Brandon’s brow arches as his lips curl into a grin. “It’s plausible,” he says, seemingly surprised. “I’ll put it in a report and see what Alex has to say in the morning.”
I smile, glad that Brandon's views on Isaac are swaying toward the positive. Even being hurt by Isaac, I'll continue to defend his integrity until I find a credible reason to believe he is the man his FBI file portrays him to be. My Uncle Tobias may not have taught me to cook or clean, but he did teach me to make my own informed opinions.Oh, and how to shoot a pistol like a real gunslinger, but that’s a story for another day.
“So that’s one mystery solved. Now, onto the much bigger one.” Brandon’s eyes lower to the stack of boxes.
Following his gaze, I catch a glimpse of the time on my watch. My eyes bug out of my head when I realize it is almost two in the morning. “Holy crap, it’s close to 2 AM!”
“I’m so sorry, Izzy; I didn’t know it was that late,” he apologizes. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”
I expel a puff of air. "Watching re-runs ofSex and the Cityor unearthing the secrets of an enigma. I’ll take what is behind curtain B please, Roger.”
Deliriously fatigued, I giggle louder than usual at my pathetic joke. My immature laughter halts when I catch Brandon's admiring gaze watching me in awe.
“What?”
I pull up the sleeves on my shirt since the room has become stiflingly muggy.
“You have a beautiful laugh, Izzy.”
Through heated cheeks, I respond, “Thank you.”
After the severe beating my ego took two weeks ago with Isaac and Tatiana, I’ll accept any compliments I can get. Not giving us the chance to slip into uncomfortable territory, I grab a handful of the manila folders in the vast Col Petretti section. When I sit back at the desk, Brandon smiles before holding out his hand for his share of the pile.
* * *
Mumbling, I shift my head away from the sharp pointy object digging into my cheek. A groan rolls up my throat before I reluctantly open my eyes. The morning sun is barely contained by the white vertical blinds on the window in the conference room. My head is thumping from the minimal amount of sleep I got, and my mouth is parched from being left hanging open.
Peering down, I soon discover what was piercing my face the past few hours: my open red ballpoint pen. I run my hand down my face to check that there are no red smear marks on my cheek.
A ghost of a smile forms on my face when I catch the figure of Brandon slumped on a hard chair across from me. My smile enlarges to a full-toothed grin when I discover Brandon’s blazer jacket draped around my shoulders. He must have placed it there after I’d fallen asleep. Brandon is a real sweetheart, but for some reason, I’m drawn to an alpha male who infuriates me more than he nurtures me.
My bones creak when I stand to stretch my weary body. After spending three hours reading Col Petretti’s file, we're no closer to finding any connection between him and Isaac. Other than me personally knowing they’ve met, there is not one shred of information in Col’s file that alludes to them knowing one another privately or in business.
“Shit,” I croak when my cell phone beeps in my pocket.
