“The images are grainy, but Brandon has a knack for cleaning them up.”
Grayson nods, agreeing with me. After removing the camera from my hand with more sincerity than he did my notepad, he hands it to Brandon. “Bring up the images on the drop screen.”
Like magic, a giant projector screen lowers from the ceiling. I’m so fresh at Ravenshoe PD, I didn’t even know they had a drop screen in the boardroom. It feels like I’ve stepped back in time when Brandon takes a seat behind a bank of monitors on our left. Within seconds of him plugging my camera into his computer, the images Ryan and I captured earlier today flick up on the projector screen.
With his arms folded in front of his thick chest and his brow quirked, Grayson directs Brandon on which images to peruse first. “Go straight to the photos of the housekeeper We’ll come back to the package and its driver later.”
I move in closer, eager to once again immerse myself into the world of the FBI. My trip down memory lane is nipped in the bud when Grayson spots my creeper stance. With a nudge of his head and a sneer replicating his brother’s in every way, he gives me my marching orders.
“I’ll be sure to have your camera returned before your next shift.”
When my eyes stray to Brandon, he mouths that he’ll call me later. With his promise not giving me an excuse to stay, I join Ryan in the corridor just as he finalizes his call.
“You do realize that’s one of the reasons the Bureau and local law enforcement officers never get along.” I nudge my head to his cell phone. “Snitching never ends well.”
“It does when you’re ratting out the troublemakers.” When he shifts on his feet to face the glass box Grayson, Brandon, and over thirty federal agents are camped in, I join him.
I anticipate his eyes to be fixed on Grayson, so you can imagine my surprise when they follow every move Brandon makes. The fury in his eyes shocks me. Bar the occasional crossing of paths in their careers, I wasn’t aware Ryan and Brandon knew one another. If the twitching of Ryan’s jaw is any indication to go by, their relationship is anything but friendly.
7
Isabelle
He owns my heart and body.
After thirty minutes of watching a world I was once a part of from the outside, Ryan nudges his head to the evidence and storage vault I stow my gun in every night. “Come on, I better get you home before Isaac sends out the search party.”
A ghost of a smile touches my lips. “If he hasn’t already.”
I meant my comment in jest, but it’s proven accurate when my gallop down the front stairs of Ravenshoe PD occurs with the opening of a back passenger side door. Isaac slips out of his town car, his commanding aura visible on his ridiculously handsome face.
Although this is the outcome I was hoping to achieve earlier this evening, I would have preferred it to occur without a ticking jaw and clenched fists. Isaac appears as angry as hell, yet my body still thrums in anticipation.Stupid, traitorous body.
“Will you be okay?” Ryan’s tone is more humorous than concerned.
Recalling us having a similar conversation many months ago, I twist my torso to face Ryan. “I can handle Isaac better than you think.”
With a wink like a woman not about to engage in World War III, I gallop down the stairs, my speed way too eager for my liking. I could use the excuse of an extra-long weekend as the reason for my fast strides, but we all know that would be a lie. I am forever lost to this man.
Like Isaac’s mood could lower any more, it drops off a cliff when Ryan responds to my prance-like trot with a wolf-whistle. His gall increases the firmness of Isaac’s jaw, while also encouraging bystanders to get in on the action.
“He’s playing—”
“Get in the car, Isabelle.”
I need to get my head checked because instead of being frustrated by Isaac’s clipped, brusque tone, I’m turned on by it.
“Before I take you over my knee in front of Ryan, thus not only showing him what will happen when he forces you to spy on me but to also expose how my voice alone has you following my every command… not a title nor a false sense of superiority.”
There he is, that dominant, alpha male god I provoke multiple times a week for my benefit. I should be quivering in my boots that he noticed my watchful stare today. Instead, I’m relieved his receptiveness of me was as strong as it’s always been.
Goosebumps follow the trail Isaac’s hand makes when he assists me into the back of his town car. After a final glare directed at Ryan, who’s standing at the top of the stairs, he slots in next to me before gesturing for Roger to go.
Excitement dashes through my veins when he raises the privacy partition. I still have fond memories of the last time he ‘punished’ me in this car. It started with a bang, slipped downhill awfully fast when he refused to let me touch him, but ended brilliantly with him making love to me.
Although I’d rather skip the painful part, sometimes the most glorious things can’t be achieved without an occasional hair-raising bump. My relationship with Isaac is living proof of this. We went through countless horrendous things but came out the other end stronger. That’s why I’m not worried right now. He may be angry, but that won’t be the only emotion he’ll express this evening.
“Remove your clothes, including your panties.”
