I laugh. It is as bitter as the sludge that’s been sitting in my chest since Dane passed. “Jealous? Of what? Everything you’ve ever accomplished was achieved illegally from money tainted with blood. I'd rather be poor than live with low morals like you.”
My jaw tightens when Isabelle snaps, “Alex, that’s enough.”
She’s defending him.Him. A criminal. A man who’ll order the death of her fellow agents without a single consideration of the repercussions. She shouldn’t be defending him any more eagerly than Regan does. What is it with women not being able to see who he truly is? He’s a criminal—plain and fucking simple.
My anger boils over when Isaac snarls, “You’re not jealous of my accomplishments, my power, or my wealth. You’re jealous because Regan chose me over you.”
I suck in furious breaths, doing anything to quell the anger scorching my veins to black ash. I want to beat him, maim him, or better yet, kill him, but I am a man of the law; my personal desires can’t enter the equation. I have to take him down the right way, to show I am a better man than him. It might take me a month, a year, or a decade, but the delay won’t water down the sweetness when he’s finally behind bars. I’ll relish it for years to come.
With his gaze not as arrogant and his stance not as strong, Isaac mutters, “If you believe her decision was based on anything but professional obligation and friendship, then it means you're even more foolish than I first thought.”
I take a step back, stunned. That is not what I expected him to say. Does it weaken my anger? Yes, somewhat. Does it diminish my desire to arrest him? No, not at all.
But more than anything, it makes me miss a brief conversation he has with Ryan before he instructs Isabelle to enter the living room with a pretty Asian female with an old doctor’s bag in her hand.
Once Isabelle jumps to his demand, Isaac returns his focus to Ryan and me. “Did you arrest the second assailant who kidnapped Isabelle?”
Since I am unaware of Ryan’s investigation, I leave Isaac’s question for him to answer. “Yes, the information supplied by Enrique before Isabelle met with him was extremely accurate. We netted his assailant and another four members of his crew earlier this morning.”
“Do you have any leads in the disappearance of Enrique?” Isaac tries to keep his tone impassive. He does a shit job of it.
“No,” I rejoin the conversation since the fog in my head is lifting. “But rumors are that Vladimir was grooming him to take over the family business, so I wouldn’t be surprised to discover this is the work of Vladimir’s crew. We put a ban on all travel, but by the time it was processed through all the appropriate channels, Enrique was long gone.”
Isaac’s smirk answers the interrogation in my tone. He had something to do with Enrique’s disappearance. I’m certain of it.
Spotting my suspicious glance, Isaac tries to shift the direction of our conversation. “Have you questioned the police officers in regards to who framed Isabelle for Megan’s murder?”
Ryan grimaces. “No, they were admitted to Mercer Hospital for dehydration, exposure, and for psychiatric evaluation. Until they're given the all clear, the union reps won’t let me close to them.”
My annoyance returns stronger than ever. Much to the disgust of my ego, I was denied the same opportunity this morning.
“You have your suspicions on who it is?” Isaac asks Ryan, his tone hopeful.
Ryan shocks me by answering, “I have my theories; I just need proof.”
We discussed our plan of attack on the way here. He agreed to keep his cards close to his chest until Isaac gave us the information we needed. This was not our plan.
When Ryan peers at me, requesting leniency, I shrug. I’m not happy about the detour, but from the intel I uncovered from Ryan the past two days, he and Isaac have history. If it’s history that will help me close my case, I’m open to an occasional curve in the road.
After dipping his chin in thanks, Ryan returns his focus to Isaac. “One of the captives was Rodney Parvok.”
The reddening of Isaac’s cheeks matches mine, and his stance is just as frustrated.
His anger becomes paramount when Ryan quickly fills in, “The other was Chase Springfield.”
“What more proof do you need than that?” Isaac’s tone is dangerously low. “Theresa’s minion and her cousin were the two men who brutalized Isabelle during her arrest. Enrique said he learned of the plot to kidnap Isabelle from them, and that he only kept them alive because they had useful information on who framed Isabelle. I think it is pretty obvious who set her up for murder.”
Although I agree with him, the law doesn’t work that way. “Anything Enrique said to Isabelle is hearsay. It will never hold up in a courtroom.”
“I don’t give a fuck what will hold up in court.” His words are so heated, they sizzle in the air. “If you stopped wasting police resources pursuing a spiteful grudge against me, you wouldn’t need to worry about hearsay. You could have squeezed the info from the source. Instead, you’re walking around with your head stuck up your ass because your ego got bruised by a woman wayout of your league to begin with.”
I get he’s angry, and I’m an easy target for him to lash out at, but that doesn’t mean I’ll take his shit lying down. I didn’t let my best friend’s girl disrespect me even when everything she said was true, so you can sure as hell be guaranteed I won’t let the fucker responsible for his death speak to me in such a way.
Glaring at him, I bridge the gap between us, warning him to calm down before I assist him in gaining a better attitude.
When he sniffs, purposely baiting me, the thread I mentioned earlier shreds beyond repair. Fuck protocols and rules. Fuck him. It’s time for this fucker to get a taste of his own medicine.
I’m two seconds from wiping the cocky grin from Isaac’s face with my fists when Ryan steps between us. “You really think coming to blows will help Isabelle?” Although he doesn’t mention Regan, he doesn’t need to. His eyes reveal his comment was for me as much as it was Isaac.
