* * *
Harlow and I spend the remainder of my lunch break discussing our plans for Thanksgiving. Isaac has invited his dad, his brother Nick and his fiancée Jenni over for dinner. Thankfully, he also arranged for a catering company to prepare the feast. He did initially ask if I'd like to make the meal, but I had to regretfully decline. I’m not going to lie, my ego took a big beating when I had to admit I struggle to make mashed potatoes, let alone a full meal.
While I am being honest, I will admit; I'm both nervous and excited about meeting Isaac's family. Worried, because I want them to like me. Excited, because it is a step forward in our relationship. Although we've only been together a little over a month, it's been a crazy whirlwind affair that makes it seem so much longer.One I’d happily experience again and again.
* * *
Walking back into my office, a commotion of laughter gains my attention. After placing my satchel in the bottom drawer of my desk, I saunter to the window that has captured the other agents’ attention.
“What’s going on?”
Brandon's eyes stray to me. Unlike the other agents, his gaze is reflecting concern, not amusement. "Megan Shroud."
He continues speaking, but I don’t hear a word he is uttering. All I heard was Megan Shroud, then my hearing blurred.Why are people laughing about Isaac’s mysterious, deranged stalker?
Beyond panicked something horrid has happened to Isaac, I rush to the window. Overwhelmed, I barge agents out of the way so I can get a clear view of Isaac's nightclub. Fear clutches my heart when I spot the gigantic bouncer who usually mans the front door of the nightclub holding Megan captive in his arms. Her legs and arms thrash as she fights to free herself from his firm hold.
Ignoring her screaming pleas to be put down, the bouncer continues his long strides, only stopping to dump her next to a yellow car she's been photographed in numerous times.
As soon as the bouncer releases his hold, Megan charges toward the entrance of the nightclub. The bouncer wraps his massive arms around her waist again, thwarting her endeavors to enter the premise.
"Why isn't someone calling the police?" My words quiver with fear. "She is clearly unstable, and not just a threat to the public; she is a threat to herself."
Michelle’s eyes rocket to mine. The amusement brightening her gaze changes to remorse from my statement. The other agents watch the spectacle unfold without any concern for anyone’s safety.
“Alex, you need to call the police.”
I place my hand on his forearm to empathize he knows it is the right thing to do in a situation like this. His stern gaze shoots down to my hand resting on his arm.
His brows stitch before he returns his confused gaze to my face. "Isaac made his bed; now he has to sleep in it.” His words aren’t as determined as usual.
After shooing the agents away from the window, he lowers the blinds, blocking their live drama sitcom for the afternoon.
My eyes lock with Brandon. His face is marred with just as much concern as mine. He is also at a loss on what to do in this situation. He offers me a smile before apprehensively shrugging his shoulders.
Urged on by panic, I scamper to my desk and remove my FBI-assigned pistol from my second drawer. My eyes shift around the room as I raise the cuff on my pants to secure my revolver to my ankle. Because the other agents are too busy laughing at the scene they just witnessed, no one pays me any attention—except Brandon.
Gesturing his head to the corridor, Brandon requests for me to join him outside. I nod while lifting my finger in the air, requesting a minute. I need to make a phone call before I do anything.
Unsurprisingly, my call goes straight to Isaac’s voicemail. My lips quiver as I begin to speak.“I know it is early in our relationship, but I wanted you to know I love you, Isaac,” I whisper into my cell.
Silencing my phone, I place it into the pocket of my trousers. After ensuring no one is watching me, I make a beeline for the corridor.
When Brandon notices I’ve entered the hall, he stops his panicked pacing and moves to stand in front of me. “I’ll follow her.”
My eyes scan our surrounding, making sure we're alone before I reply, “They will know you’re gone, Brandon. They won’t notice me as I’ve spent the last four weeks in the supply room scanning documents.”
His brows tack as panic clouds his gaze.
“Nobody ever comes in there looking for me but you. Cover for me and I’ll owe you big time.”
Brandon runs his hand over his head. He is quiet, but I still catch part of the curse words he murmurs under his breath. After a few deep breaths, his hazel eyes lift to mine.
A smile curves onto my mouth when he raises my hand and places a set of keys into my open palm. “It’s a blue BMW coupe half a block down.”
I rush toward the exit of the building before gratitude washes over me. Pivoting around, I dart back to Brandon. He balks when I sling my arms around his neck and whisper my thanks for his support into his ear.
Brandon returns my hug with so much force, he squeezes the bejeebus out of me. “Be careful, Izzy,” he pleads, his eyes relaying his genuine concern.
