He was indicted on a second-degree rape charge from almost ten years ago. He was twenty-one at the time, and his victim was only eighteen. Her name is also recognizable. It’s Brandon’s high-school sweetheart, Melody Gregg. Although the incident occurred almost a decade ago, charges were only raised earlier this year. Even with the evidence being stale, it was credible. Regrettably, the person accused of rape went unpunished for a second time.
“Madden was exonerated twice? How? The evidence against him couldn’t be more damning.”
I find the answers I’m seeking when I click on the link at the bottom of the article. Vincent McGee is no longer a defense attorney. He’s the governor of a very powerful state, and his eldest son, Madden McGee, is hoping to follow in his footsteps. He just entered the dodgy world of politics at the tender age of thirty-one.
“Melody’s claims were swept under the rug, so they wouldn’t taint the upcoming elections?”
When Isaac nods, I scrape my fingers through my hair, frustrated. I’ve always trusted the law—it’s the reason I was adamant my bloodline wouldn’t stop me from pursuing my dreams, but things like this annoy the living hell out of me. Gemma and Melody did the right thing. They sought assistance from people sworn to protect them, and look what happened? They were left without justice and branded liars.
After a big exhale to free the annoyance in my stomach, I lock my eyes with Isaac. “This sucks, and it’s unjust, but it doesn’t sway my opinion on Brandon. We know as well as anyone you can’t judge someone based on their relations.”
I want Isaac to agree with me, to prove my intuition wasn’t wrong when I befriended Brandon, but for the second time today, I’m left disappointed. “Brandon was the key witness in Melody’s case. He gave evidence on behalf of the defense.”
9
Isaac
Being truthful is a loving act.
Isabelle peers up at me with her big chocolate eyes out in full force. She hates being proven wrong just as much as I dislike being strong-armed. I would have preferred to be wrong than have her intuition proven as faulty. Isabelle is a spiritual person. She trusts her gut. She often says it was what guided her relationship with me, so this is a bitter pill for her to swallow.
There are still many secrets Hunter has yet to unearth about Brandon, but with each week that passes, he’s slowly discovering Brandon isn’t quite as shiny as his boy-next-door appearance conveys. People are always wary of the smaller guy in the group. He might not pack the hardest punch, but they’re usually the most conniving.
Isabelle’s hands dart out to clutch my arm when the jet hits a pocket of turbulence just as it reaches its desired ascent. She’s as scared now as she was when we flew toMummon Kotimonths ago, but she’s putting on a brave front for Callie, who stirred due to the unexpected shudders. It only takes handing her back her precious bunny for her breathing to settle and her eyes to taper.
Isabelle’s panic is more perverse.
I’d love to soothe her how I usually do—in the bedroom at the back of the jet—but she lied the last time we were in this very plane. She said she wasn’t a screamer. I proved her wrong time and time again.
When the shakes of turbulence decline, Isabelle’s nails stop piercing through the material of my suit. She’s still a diamond in the rough who doesn’t need polished nails, weekly hair appointments, and designer clothing costing more than a standard police officer’s salary, so my arm is minus the scratches she drags down my back in the middle of ecstasy.
Regrettably, clipped nails can’t save the disaster that’s about to unfold. When Isabelle’s hands lunged out, she bumped the tablet, sending it back to the original file I showed her. Except now, it isn’t open on Hugo’s details. It’s open at the section revealing why I kept Hugo hidden for five years.
“Isaac… why do you have this?” Isabelle’s wide eyes stray to Hawke for the quickest second before they return to me. They’re glistening with tears. “Why do you have a file on his wife’s murderer?”
When she hands me the tablet, I’m tempted to shut down the interrogation in her voice with the edge of authority I regularly utilize on my staff. The only reason I don’t is because of what she said earlier. We’re a unit, one joined team. There is meant to be no secrets between us, and even though this is one I had long before I knew of her existence, she is my soon-to-be wife, my other half, so she deserves to know the truth.
The scent of Isabelle’s arousal filters through my nose when I unlatch her seat belt and pluck her from her seat. Her assumption that I’m about to settle our conversation as I always do has my blood turning black. I have a reputation fierce enough no man has had the gall to go against me, yet it’s the struggle of my life to keep my mind focused right now. It’s my job to fulfill Isabelle’s every whim. Right now, I’m not doing that.
After a quick glance at Catherine to ensure she’s watching Callie, I lift Isabelle into my arms and walk the short steps needed to reach the bedroom at the back of the jet. Memories of our first time together trickle into my mind as I kick the door closed before securing the lock into place. I could use Isabelle’s natural submissiveness to my advantage. I could keep it from her to save face, but the quickest glance into her eyes when I place her onto the bed reminds me I have nothing to be ashamed of. She and Callie have exposed me as a mere man instead of an enigma, but I’m fiercer and more impenetrable because of that. They reminded me strength does not come from winning, but from the challenges you face to get to the top.
On a day five and a half years ago, I felt weak, lost, and was seeking vengeance on the wrong person.
The familiar scent of soot and sweat streamed through my nose when I pushed open an unoiled basement door of a house in the middle of Rochdale, New York. It was the smell of a man on the brink, one hell-bent on seeking justice no matter what the cost.
I didn’t think Ava would point me in the right direction. She eventually did. I found Hugo in a place I never anticipated, but undertaking in an event I foresaw long before he did. He was angry and grieving and about to make a mistake he could never take back.
The world is full of hurters and healers. Hugo is a healer, so he shouldn’t have been torturing a man in the basement any more than his criminal record shouldn’t have been sullied by a rape charge. I couldn’t change the outcome of an event occurring before my time, but I could fix this.
Hugo’s gun swung my way when I took the final step down the creaky stairwell. “You need to leave.” His words were as low and desolate as the monster in his eyes when he redirected his gun back to the man chained to the boiler in the basement of his sister’s home. “This is between Roberto and me, not you.”
“You're my family, Hugo. What happens to you affects me.”
His nostrils flared as he glared into the eyes of the man who snuffed not just the life in his sister’s eyes, but his entire family as well. “He killed my family. He tore them apart.”
“No.” I kept my tone stern and unwavering, assuring he knew I was not leaving untilIgot the outcome I came there to achieve. “He didn’t kill your family, but you will if you don’t leave now.”
His head cranked my way faster than the bullet he was hoping to pop between Roberto’s eyes. He stared at me. He was impassive and hard for me to read, barely half the man I knew only weeks ago, but I also knew what he was thinking. He thought this would ease his family’s pain, that by killing Roberto, he’d somehow shorten the unimaginable grief they were enduring.
