When Brandon’s forceful swallow bellows around my apartment, I pivot around to face him. I give him a wink, pretending I meant my comment in jest. He doesn’t buy my act. His cheeks flame with heat as his pupils dilate. I just don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s suspicious or aroused. I think it might be a bit of both.
Realizing he won’t talk freely in my presence, I take the documents Regina and Ryan presented Isabelle and me earlier and make my way to my office. I’m hidden halfway down the hall when Isabelle initiates their conversation by offering Brandon a drink, which he declines.
“No thanks, this is a quick pop-in visit.” I hear him clear his throat before he says, “I hope you don’t mind me popping in like this, but I couldn’t call you since Hunter smashed your phone, and I don’t know any of Regan’s contact details.”
“I can give them to you. All you have to do is ask.” The instant the words escape my mouth, I want to ram them back in there. This is why I could never be an undercover operative like Alex or Ayden.
I stop panicking that I’ve blown my cover when Isabelle giggles. It is followed closely by Brandon’s soft groan.
I pace a little closer to their exchange when he lowers his voice to whisper, “I just wanted to say that I understand you not wanting to come to the gala with me anymore. With everything going on and all.” He is a quivering bundle of nerves. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to go with me. You need to concentrate on getting your case cleared.”
“Is it this weekend?” Isabelle’s high tone indicates she forgot about the pledge she made to Brandon.
“Yes, Friday night, but you don’t have to come.” Brandon aims for his voice to be understanding, but all I hear is manipulation. He’s not here to let Isabelle off from their agreement. He’s here to guilt trip her into keeping it.
Although Isaac will most likely kill me when he hears this was my idea, I think Isabelle should keep the promise she made to Brandon. Not because I believe Brandon is an upstanding guy and Isabelle should fall on her sword for him, but because it will give Hugo a chance to evaluate Brandon on his home turf. Men are most honest when they’re surrounded by familiar things. It is how Alex’s ruse came undone, so who’s to say it won’t be the same for Brandon?
“You should go.” Isabelle’s eyes drift to me when I reenter the foyer. “Having you out in public with another man will help make the jury believe you have no association with Isaac. It will also make it look like you're not worried about the case because you’re innocent. Only people with something to hide need to be concerned about prosecution.”
“You don’t think it will appear distasteful for me to go to a fancy gala with a death hanging over my head?” Isabelle asks as her brows tack together.
I shake my head. “No. You knew of Megan from an FBI agent perspective, but you have no personal connection to her whatsoever. You wouldn’t mourn the death of a stranger.”
Worry lines Isabelle’s forehead, but I don’t give her the chance to voice her concerns.
“And with you being out of Ravenshoe for a few nights, I won’t have to keep checking your room every ten minutes to make sure Isaac hasn’t snuck in.” I hope she takes my comment as cheeky, because it sounded snarky to me.
After several long seconds of contemplation, Isabelle locks her gaze with Brandon. He’s nervously shifting from one foot to the other, exposing Isabelle’s answer is more important than he’s letting on.
A glint in his eyes I’ve seen many times before appears when Isabelle asks, “What time are you picking me up?”
While Isabelle shows Brandon to the door, I call Hugo.
It’s time to discover who Brandon James really is.
* * *
A ragged scream wakes me from my sleep a little before 1 AM. My heart pounds against my ribcage when a second cry soon follows the first. I jackknife out of my bed before darting for the door. Although I’m wearing only a satin slip, I don’t stop to secure my robe. Those cries were too horrific and oddly familiar for me to worry about modesty. They match the ones I made in silence over nine years ago.
“What is it?” I ask Hugo, who is standing halfway down the hallway.
His wide eyes shift to me, startling me with how dilated they are. “She’s having a nightmare.” He nudges his head to the room I assigned to Isabelle. “The door is locked.”
Hugo looks at me as if I am crazy when I say, “Kick it in.”
I nod, assuring him what he heard is correct before dashing into my living room. I haven’t needed Xanax in a long time, but I’ve kept my prescriptions up to date the past twelve months. Don’t ask me why. They’re more a security blanket than anything.I hope.
When I enter Isabelle’s room that Hugo has successfully broken into, I hear the last half of Hugo’s apology to Isaac, “It took me a little longer to get in here because she had the door locked.”
I don’t know what Isaac replies to Hugo, but it must not be good because he grimaces before removing Isabelle’s cell phone from his ear.
“He’s coming?”
Hugo works his jaw side to side before nodding.
“He can’t do that. If the DA finds any connection between Isaac, Isabelle, and Megan, I’ll have no chance in hell of getting Isabelle off her charges.”
Hugo shrugs before his eyes drop to Isabelle. She looks like a fragile little doll since she is swamped by his large frame. I pop open the bottle of Xanax before tapping two tablets into Isabelle’s shaking palm. While she takes them in, certain they aren’t sleeping tablets, I pour her a generous serving of the wine I consumed instead of dinner.
