When I spin around to face Brandon, he digs a second piece of paper out of his pocket. This one is more tattered than the first. “Over two hundred and fifty transactions verified to be distributed at the same time first thing tomorrow morning.” His hands rattle less this time when he passes the document to me. “He kept the transfer amounts under $10,000 so as not to raise suspicion.”
“Then how do you know about it?”
I stop scanning the long list of foreign investment accounts when Brandon replies, “Once a device is introduced to the server, it’s never forgotten.”
“You used the intel you stole off Regan’s laptop to unearth this?”
The paper creases when I fist it tightly after Brandon nods. “But only because I’m trying to help you.”
“You’re helping me?” My tone exposes that I think he’s full of shit, but just in case it doesn’t, I add on, “Or are you helping yourself?”
He tugs on the collar of his shirt, suddenly overwhelmed with heat. It’s not hot today. It’s a pleasant late fall evening; he just can’t handle my infuriating glare.
The redness on his cheeks doubles when I step closer to him. “I’ll hand it to you: you’re smart, have a way with computers, and the looks to fly under the radar for as long as you have, but there is one skill you are lacking that will ensure other agents constantly step over you.”
I wait for the long descent of his Adam’s apple to finish before continuing, “You can’t read people. You can’t tell the difference between a friendly glance and a lusty one. When a woman is asking you on a second date, or if she’s sizing you up to see if you’re a serial killer. Even when the painstakingly obvious is staring you in the face, you’re too busy evaluating everything around it instead of the picture you should have been looking at the entire time.”
My last sentence resonates more with me than Brandon’s predicament. What Regan said tonight is true. I’m so dedicated to ensuring Isaac serves time for what happened to Dane, I’m letting it influence every decision in my life—her included.
“You said on the courthouse stairs last week that the only difference between Isabelle and me was that I stupidly fell in love.” My eyes bounce between Brandon’s, which are staring intently into mine. “You know that isn’t true.” I’m not denying I am in love with Regan. I am denying that Isabelle hasn’t fallen in love with Isaac. “Whether we agree with it or not, Isabelle loves Isaac.”
Brandon shakes his head, although I don’t think he realizes he is. “She doesn’t know him.”
“I know,” I agree, “but neither do we. Not really. Isaac keeps everyone at arm’s length, even those closest to him, so how can we trust anything we’ve read? We were trained from the get-go to devise our own opinions, but no one has done that in Isaac’s case.”No one but me.
Brandon attempts a rebuttal, but his words fall short. Lucky, as I have no intention of accepting his excuses.
“If you really care for Isabelle, help me help her.”
“How?” The confusion in his tone is the first honest thing I’ve heard come out of his mouth this week.
“The bugs in Isabelle’s phone.”
I watch him closely to see if he attempts to discount his knowledge of them. He remains on the honesty route by dipping his chin.
“Do you have the serial numbers for them?”
“They’re no good. I ran them through our system twice. Nothing popped up.”
“That’s not what I asked, Brandon.” My voice is thicker than his, more determined. “I have access to channels you can’t access.” Brandon makes apfftnoise, but I pretend not to hear it. “The more people looking into Isabelle’s case, the better off she’ll be. I thought you cared for her, Brandon.”
“I do,” he replies, briskly nodding. “Very much so.”
“Then give me what I need. It might not lessen the severity of your insubordination, but it will do more good to Isabelle’s case than harm.”
He deliberates for barely a moment before agreeing to my request. His eagerness to assist Isabelle proves what I’ve been wondering all along. Isaac isn’t the only one under Isabelle’s spell. Brandon is under it just as deeply.
Twenty-Nine
Alex
It took four days for Grayson’s team to unravel the massive knot sheltering the culprit responsible for the bugs in Isabelle’s phone, then another four days to convince Regan I had credible, uncorrupt information to assist her client. I went through every route necessary to assure her my request to visit her apartment was for a legitimate business meeting, and even then, she acquiesced under protest.
It’s fortunate she agreed when she did because I was on the verge of desperation, mere hours from calling Isaac and demanding he force her to speak to me. I’m sure that would have gone down well.Not.
I’ve barely crossed the threshold of Regan’s apartment when Isabelle’s boots stomp across the wooden floorboards. She looks in a hurry, like she’s unaware of our meeting this morning.
Upon spotting me standing to the right of her hideously dated handbag, her teeth grit. My lips curl into an amused smirk when she snatches her bag off the tabletop to rummage through her belongings. I’m not surprised at her inability to trust me. I screwed her over more than once; I just had no clue it was happening months after someone already orchestrated her demise.
