Not long after Izzy has peeled out of my car, the headlights of Isaac’s Bugatti illuminate the driveway. When he notices Izzy standing at the entrance of his house, he tries to keep his face passive. He fails miserably. Just like the night I officially introduced Hawke to Jorgie, anytime Isaac and Izzy are together, the dynamic between them is explosive. Like fireworks in ablackenedsky.
Once Isaac joins Izzy on the porch of his home, I jump into my Chevelle and tear out of the driveway. My mind is jumbled, trying to pick between driving back to Rochdale now, or grabbing a few hours ofsleep.
“You’re not going to do anyone any good if you end up wrapped around a telephone pole,” I mutter tomyself.
My excessive speed down the winding roads of Isaac’s estate slows when I notice a blue BMW parked on the edge of Isaac’s property line. A snarl forms on my lips when the headlights of my car light up the number plate on the BMW.Blondie.What the fuck is hedoinghere?
When I pull in behind Blondie’s BMW, he climbs out of the driver’s seat. I don’t know what it is, but there is something about Blondie that sets me on edge. I can’t tell if it stems from the way he looks at Izzy when he thinks no one is looking, or if it is the cloud of secrets his wholesome eyes are concealing. But no matter how well he portrays the image of a humble Boy Scout, I ain’t buying the shit he is selling. I can’t comprehend why Izzy can’t see the darkness impinging his eyes. To me, it is as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky. But Izzy seems oblivious to it. I know Blondie is hiding something, and I’m planning on exposing his deepest, darkestsecrets.
“What are you doing here, Blondie?” I ask, pacingtowardshim.
I’ve nicknamed Brandon Blondie. It isn’t his blond hair that has given him the title. It is the fact I don’t believe Brandon is his real name. Hunter, Isaac’s head of security, is one of the world’s best hackers—not Adrian Lamo on a good day. He is Adrian Lamo on his best day. After completing a search on Brandon that Phillip Marlowe would have been proud of, Hunter couldn’t find a trace of information on him. Not a single smidge. Brandon is even more of an illusion than I am. From experience, I know only men with something to hide keep their information locked up tighter than Fort Knox. That is why I know Brandon is hiding something, and it isn’t his fascination with Izzy. That’s even more obvious than the sun shining inthesky.
“You sniffing around hoping Isaac left outabone?”
Brandon smirks, misconstruing my statement as a joke. I wasn’t joking. He fidgets on the spot, kicking dust up from the loose gravel when he notices my furiouswrath.
“I just want to make sure Izzy is alright,” he replies, peering sheepishly intomyeyes.
“Then why not go knock on the door like a real man?” I ask, my browarched.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Been there.Donethat.”
I stare into his eyes, confused by hisstatement.
“I’ve tried numerous times to see Izzy since she left the hospital. My attempts were always denied… byIsaac.”
I’m not surprised by his confession. I thought the jealousy issues that plague me with Ava are fierce. It is nothing compared to the jealously Isaac has when it comes to men getting close to Izzy. I can’t say I blame him, though. From the gleam Brandon’s eyes get when Izzy is in his vicinity, I have no doubt he would trample anyone in his way if Izzy was ever placed back on themarket.
“Izzy is fine. She is with Isaac, where she belongs,” I inform him before pivoting on my heels and ambling back tomycar.
My brisk strides halt when Brandon mutters, “Even with Ophelia beingalive?”
The beat of my heart kicks up as I turn around to face him. His face is washed with confusion, and his brows are furrowedtightly.
“How do you know about that?”Iask.
Brandon’s pupils enlarge as his throat works hard toswallow.
“You gave Izzy the photo, didn’t you? You thought it was your way in. The key to breaking up IsaacandIzzy.”
Brandon’s lips form a snarl and he shakeshishead.
“Bullshit,” I retaliate, pacing to stand in front of him, wanting to look him in the eyes as I call him out as the weasel he is. “You weaseled your way into Izzy’s life by pretending you’re her friend, all so you could undermine her relationship with Isaac. I’ve got news for you: you can’t fight fate, so I suggest you give up while you’reahead.”
“I'm her friend,” Brandon responds, his tone surprisingly strong. “Everything I’ve done is because I’m trying toprotecther.”
“She doesn’t need your protection,” I roar when I spot the gleam in his eyes. “She has Isaac. She has me. She doesn’t need you. So go jump on your white horse and find another damsel in distress to save, because Izzy doesn’t needsaving.”
I count down to ten as I walk back to my car. If I don’t control my anger, I’m going toburst.
“Are you going to protect her like you did Gemma?” Brandon shouts, his voice crammed withanger.
I freeze when Gemma’s name seeps from his lips. Surely I didn’t hear him right. My pulse is blaring in my ears, so I must be mistaken.I have to be. When I spin around to face him, I have no doubt he said what I thought he said. The look of fear in his eyes in the only indication I need to know he’s aware of the night that still haunts mydreams……
“If only you liked white chocolate,” Gemma gabbles, plopping onto the barstool nexttome.
My hearty chuckle rumbles over the music blasting out of the jukebox in the corner of the room. I’ve spent a majority of my night with members of my squadron at a dime a dozen watering hole in the middle of a town we are stationed at. Although rundown, Cantina Vault is a buzzing hive of activity. Line dancers and regular nightclub patrons share the floor space; Air Force officers from Second Lieutenants to Brigadier Generals are spread as far as the eye can see, and the beer is the coldest I’ve ever guzzled. What more could a manaskfor?
