He returns my embrace long enough nearly every set of eyes in the room is on us. The only pair that isn’t belong to Ryan. He’s out in the corridor, on the phone. To who, I don’t know.
Realizing we have the watchful gawk of many, Brandon places me back onto my feet before flashing me his infamous lopsided grin. His hair is longer than I remember, and his face is a little plumper, but he looks well.
“I had a few matters to attend to.” He doesn’t mention any names, but his lack of blame exposes who he is referencing.
“I’m sorry for dropping you in all of that mess, Brandon. Alex shouldn’t have transferred you to another division.”
He watches me with cautious, shocked eyes. “Alex didn’t tell you why I was removed from his team?”
I shake my head. Confusion is seen all over my face. “No, but that isn’t unusual. Alex never tells me anything—”
“For good reason.”
I freeze when the voice interrupting us registers as familiar. When I sling my head in the direction it came from, the blond hair, sharp jaw that’s now hidden by a scruffy beard more times than not, and the icy blue eyes I’m anticipating reflect back at me. They just don’t belong to Alex. This man is either his twin or the FBI replaced Alex’s command at Ravenshoe with his doppelgänger.
Brandon guides me toward the man glaring at me in disdain. “Izzy, allow me to introduce you to Grayson Rogers, Alex’s older brother. He’s head of the division targeting Kirill Bobrov.”
I cringe, disappointed I once again failed to put my best foot forward when meeting an elusive member of the Rogers’ conglomerate.
After dragging my hand down my trousers to rid it of sweat, I offer it to Grayson. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grayson.”
“You can call me Agent Rogers.”
When he walks to a perp board several members of the Bureau are surrounding, I follow him—not minus a quick roll of my eyes. He must be like Alex was only twelve short months ago, in desperate need of a non-plastic crotch.
“You were the first unit assigned to Kirill Bobrov’s residence, yes?”
“That’s correct.”
Once the work side of my brain clicks on, I pull my notepad out of my pocket. Before I can decipher a single note, Grayson asks, “Was any movement recorded inside the house?”
“No—”
“Any deliveries? Food orders? Anything?”
If you’d give me a chance to speak, I’m sure I’d have something.“A package was delivered at—”
I hear Brandon’s back molars crunch when Grayson snatches my notepad out of my hand. “Did you get photos of the package?”
Although peeved at his rudeness, I lift my chin. “The label indicates the goods delivered were medical instruments. Gauze, tape, tweezers, scalpels…” My words trail off to silence when Grayson’s eyes snap to mine. They’re identical to Alex’s in every way, just one hundred times more furious. “Is there a significant meaning as to why these goods were delivered?”
I’m not daft. I’m aware purchasing medical equipment is more diverse than ordering a pizza. I’m just snooping for the information Grayson seems unwilling to give.
“Kirill Bobrov is a brutal, unhinged ogre who feeds off the pain of others. His wife is also six months pregnant.” He drops his eyes to mine. For how icy they are, they shouldn’t have the ability to burn me at the stake, but they do. “The child she’s carrying isn’t his.”
“Oh.”
This isn’t good. If Kirill responds in the manner Vladimir does when suspicious his whores are having an affair, the need for a scalpel makes sense.
“Has anyone tried to have his wife removed from the environment?”
“Yes,” Grayson answers my question, but his aura exposes he isn’t pleased about my interrogation. “Multiple times. None have yet been successful.”
With communication lines open, although barely, I continue updating him about our watch. “A housekeeper was also noted entering the premise.” After removing my notepad from Grayson’s hand, I scan my notes so I can ensure the description in my head partners with the ones jotted down. My head is still a little a hazy from my unexpected run-in with Isaac, and I’d hate to add more disdain to Grayson’s eyes. “She was mid-to-late fifties, had wiry brown hair pulled back in a bun, and was short, standing at approximately five feet tall.”
Grayson sucks in a sharp breath. Her features must sound familiar to him. “Did you capture any images of her during surveillance?”
Nodding, I move to secure the camera from Ryan’s hand. In the process, I discover who he’s talking to. It isn’t Isaac as suspected. It’s Alex, which, if I’m honest, could end just as painfully for me. If Ryan tells Alex Brandon is here, Alex will tell Regan, who, in turn, will call Isaac. Do you understand how this won’t end well for me? Isaac hates being informed of anything secondhand, much less when it involves a man I kissed.
