Chapter 1
Isaac
“Social security number, birth certificate, and passport.”
When Hunter places each stated item onto my desk, I undo the button on my suit jacket and take a seat to scrutinize them. “Were there any issues having them verified?”
Hs scrubs his hand along his scruffy beard. “No, I used the same guy I did when we got Hugo’s identification.”
“Cooper?”
Hunter nods. Cooper has worked with Henry Gottle, Sr. for the past decade. When it became vital for Hugo to disappear, Henry steered me to Cooper. He lives and breathes for his enterprise, and he's damn good at what he does. Although he comes off as blunt, I soon realized he’s hardened his shell to ensure he remains viable in the ruthless industries he’s immersed himself in.
Cooper’s knack for forgery ensured Hugo became a ghost, a phantom, the invisible man—until the whirlwind of Isabelle arrived in our lives. She unearthed the real Hugo faster than those who have been hunting him for years. Now I need to ensure the breadcrumbs she left during her investigation don’t have a recoil effect on Hugo, which, in turn, will have a carry-on effect on my empire.
Hunter slouches into a chair across from me before balancing his boot-covered ankle onto his opposite knee. “Cooper’s charges have substantially increased in the past four years.”
“It’s a price I’m willing to pay for legitimacy like this.” Even acutely aware the U.S. passport is counterfeit, the expertise is so compelling, I'm beginning to wonder if Cooper works for the State Department.
A tangle of emotions holds my thoughts hostage when my gaze zooms in on a pair of big chocolate eyes in the passport photo. They’re the eyes that hold the key to unraveling the real Isaac Holt. They could fully reveal me, leaving me open and exposed for my competitors to see. Although they’re eyes that will bare me as a mere man instead of an enigma, they could also inflict my greatest demise. That could decimate me. Everything I’ve built the past seven years teeters precariously on one pair of big brown eyes.
My silent contemplations are interrupted when Hunter places a large manila folder onto the desk. A handful of noted papers fall out of the overstuffed document wallet when he slides it across to me.
“Isaac, I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Lucas Marco, District Attorney of Ravenshoe.” I flip open the folder and peruse the first few documents as Hunter continues with his dynamic introduction. “Married, father of three, thirty-two years old, has resided in Ravenshoe the past two years after leaving his hometown of Merryville. His wife is…” He stops talking, his lips twisting impenitently before a rough, deep growl emits from his throat. “… a mom I'dreallylike to fu—”
Any further words about to spill from his lips trap in this throat from the wry look I direct at him. He grins and winks, relishing that he forced a reaction out of me. He’s clearly noticed my usually ruthless equanimity has faltered the past two weeks. Because I failed to react to his taunting behavior, his personal digs have become unyielding.
For years, my hunger for success was urged on by the excitement of power and wealth. I wanted to conquer it all, to be in complete control. So I aspired to build an empire that amassed substantial wealth because with wealth came power. The wealthier I became, the more powerful I wanted to be. But with more power, came more wealth. And thus began the vicious cycle that had me always yearning for more.
The rancorous events altered my perspective of living. Before Isabelle came into my life, it had no conclusion in sight. She forced a steel bar into the cogs, stopping the rotation that would have soon had me spiraling out of control.
After I was arrested, I stepped back and evaluated my life. I realized everything I'd built, the years of blood, sweat, and tears didn’t crumble when I left my office before my club reached full capacity. It didn’t collapse when I spent a weekend with Isabelle at my private residence after she officially became mine. It ran like the well-oiled machine I had built it to be.
It was only then I realized my greatest accomplishments can’t be calculated by wealth or power. It’s measured by the people in my life. That’s why I'll stop at nothing to ensure Isabelle once again becomes mine because she is without a doubt, my greatest accomplishment.
This morning, after running into Isabelle at Avery’s office, the blood pumping through my body became potent, thickened by the thrill of the hunt. Only hours before, she said she didn’t know if she could forgive me for my betrayal, but I saw sparks of the old Isabelle in her eyes when I assisted her off the ground after her tumble. She had the same wild, frenzied look she had the morning she crashed into me at the airport. A look that promised she’d not only be my greatest possession but also my hardest battle. I'm up for the challenge. I’ve been fighting my entire life. It’s who I am, and it’s what I do. I’ll fight every day until Isabelle is once again mine.
My bed.
My house.
My rules.
MINE.
But first, I need to guide her through the minefield she's precariously tiptoeing through. Once the landmines have been annihilated, my focus will shift to a more personal endeavor.
I lay a piece of paper on my desk. “Mr. Marco’s bank accounts, although not as pitiful as some I’ve seen, are less than stellar, so how can he afford a Cartier Diver watch?” I lift the surveillance photo of Lucas that shows the expensive timepiece encircling his wrist off my desk. “They sell for eight to twenty thousand dollars each. A new DA would be lucky to take home sixty thousand a year, let alone the fact he has three young children to provide for.” My gaze shifts to Hunter. “Does he have family money, an inheritance?”
Without glancing at the documents, Hunter shakes his head. “He still has student loans in the thousands. His mom was a primary school teacher, and his dad was a car salesman before he was laid off at the end of last year. Lucas’s past fiscal year tax return was for fifty-eight thousand.”
“His wife?”
Hunter shrugs. “She's a stay-at-home mom, and although her family is better off than Lucas’s, they wouldn’t gift such an expensive item.”
I’m not surprised by his revelations. I’ve always had a knack for reading people, and even through a computer monitor, I had a feeling Mr. Marco wasn’t quite the saint he’s portraying with his family-man image. He's often photographed at charity events with his wife on his arm, and in local newspapers he's reported as a well-respected member of the community, but there's something dark in his eyes.
That's why for the past two weeks, I shifted my focus from having the evidence in Isabelle’s case squashed to unearthing the man who’s campaigning for her false conviction. It wasn’t just Mr. Marco’s inaccurate description of Isabelle the morning of her arraignment that piqued my interest. It’s the fact I read him as a sly, underhanded man, a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing. I see an evil man hiding beneath a reputable job description. Those are the people you should be wary of. The quiet, calculating men are often the ones who create the biggest ripple.
