I breathe out heavily, almost drowning out what Parker says next, “His arrest ruffled feathers, and now with news of Isabelle’s court case circulating this side of the country, we need to tread cautiously.”
“And what happens to Callie while we wait? Who’s looking after her?” The protectiveness in my voice shocks me. I’ve never been maternal.
“The Popov housemaids are the best of the bunch.” I wish Parker’s tone sounded more confident. “Besides, Vladimir won’t let any harm come of her. She’s an asset, not his daughter. In this case, that increases her chances of survival.”
I grumble about the arrogant, pigheaded man I hope to never meet while rounding my desk. My steps freeze halfway when, in the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my laptop monitor. Everything inside me tenses when the mouse icon moves around the screen as if it is being controlled by a remote.
My intuition is proven spot on when a set of business acquisitions I filed last week pops up on the screen. They’re only there for a second before the print box opens and closes, then the screen goes back to its original setting.
I continue my conversation with Parker, mindful the person accessing my computer may have the microphone activated. “That’s true. I guess it’s best for all involved if we wait.”
Parker mumbles a reply, but I don’t hear anything he says over my pulse raging in my ears. I sit in my office chair and activate my computer, praying I can type with how hard my hands are shaking.
The person accessing my laptop is smart. The timestamp on the file he just accessed displays it hasn’t been opened in over a week. Although the documents they were hacking are accessible to the public, who’s to say that’s all they were searching for?
After a few seconds of silent contemplation, I devise a plan of attack. “Parker, I have to go. I forgot about an important meeting Isaac is having with Vladimir at Taste. I’m late.”
Parker tries to rebut, but I disconnect our call, cutting him off.
My heart hammers into my ribcage when I snag my coat and my purse. I’m out my front door in an instant, my wish to bust the man spying on me stronger than the worry I’m not putting my best foot forward.
After I agree to a payment of one hundred dollars, I arrive at Taste within a record-breaking three minutes. “Keep the meter running, and I’ll tip you another $100.”
The cab driver’s eyes flare before he nods. In good faith, I hand him the first half of my fare before slipping out of his cab. I want to believe he’d stay without the pledge of extra money, but my trust is extremely low today.
The hostess of Taste greets me with a smile before ushering me to the table Isaac and I regularly share. Although I keep my head low, I still gain the inquisitive gaze of numerous men. . . and a handful of women. This isn’t unusual.
Halfway to my table, my steps slow, closely followed by the beat of my heart. There’s a man seated at the table Alex always dined at. A bulky laptop bag takes up a large chunk of his tabletop, and the three seats surrounding him are empty. A newspaper covers most of his face, and a cap shelters his eyes, but nothing can hide the wisps of blond hair furling around his ears, much less the sweat dotting his cheeks.He must have rushed here as quickly as me.
Although I can’t one hundred percent testify the man is Alex, I storm across the room before my brain can cite an objection. This isn’t the first or second time he’s invaded my privacy. This is the third!
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But there is no fucking chance you’ll fool me a third time,” I grind through gritted teeth before ripping the newspaper out of his grasp.
I take a step back, stunned when the eyes peering back at me don’t reflect the color of the ocean. They’re brown and green and brimming with treachery.
“Regan, what are you doing here? Is Izzy with you?” Brandon scans the restaurant, hoping his eagerness to locate Isabelle will excuse the deep descent of his Adam’s apple.
His acting skills are top shelf. It’s just a pity my bullshit radar is even more developed. Brandon leaps to his feet when I yank his laptop out of his bag and crack open the screen. “Let’s see how you like having your privacy invaded.”
The sweat beading on his forehead lessens when his computer requests a lock code. Recalling the ga-ga faces he makes anytime Isabelle is in his presence, I type in the six digits of her birthday.Bingo.
A vicious growl vibrates my lips when the first thing I notice is a screenshot of the invoice I saw hacked from my computer mere minutes ago.
“That’s not what it looks like.” Brandon slams down his laptop screen, startling the elderly couple seated next to him. “I was researching business opportunities. Those files are assessable to anyone with the knowledge of how to find them.”
I twist my lips, acting coy. “True, but I wonder what Isabelle’s take on it will be?”
Brandon’s gasp ceases halfway up his windpipe when I shove his laptop into his chest before hightailing it out of the restaurant.
He snaps at my heels two seconds later. “I’m trying to protect her.”
I have a thousand replies, but none I’m willing to waste on him. I know for a fact he no longer works for the Bureau, so any spying he’s doing isn’t just immoral, it’s illegal.
“She has no clue who Isaac really is. He’s keeping things from her.” He races in front of me, blocking my access to the idling cab. “Look, I’ll prove it. He’s been making secret payments to a woman in Arlington the past six years.”
Even knowing Isaac keeps nothing from me, I snatch the document from Brandon’s hand, his galvanized tone too strong to brush off.
“See, one hundred thousand dollars a month for over six years.” He points to synchronized transfers on the fifteenth of every month.
