“Enrique trusts you, Isaac. Now you need to do the same.” She nudges her head to the screen of my laptop displaying Parker forwarded the footage I requested. It shows Enrique slipping into the back of a town car that’s reflecting the profile of an unknown blonde.
In shock, my eyes lock with Isabelle’s. “You’re not the least bit interested in discovering who she is?”
I take a step back when she says, “I already know who she is.”
A ghost of a smile cracks onto her lips. She’s loving my stumped composure. If I weren’t seeking questions to answers only she appears capable of giving, I’d give in to the temptation gripping every inch of me. I’ve always loved Isabelle’s lips, but when they’re carved into a smile, they make me a mere boy instead of a man.
She hits me with a wicked wink. “I’m not the daft wallflower you seem to think I am, Isaac.”
Teasingly, she rakes her nails across my torso before making her way to my laptop. After a few taps on the keyboard, she brings up an email dated an hour before she arrived home last night. It’s from Alex Rogers, her ex-supervisor.
“You spoke with Alex?” The shock in my voice reverberates through Isabelle.
She screws up her nose, somewhat baffled. “Not exactly. I called Regan. It’s practically the same thing.”
When I throw my head back and laugh, she squirms. I’m still cautious that the FBI’s investigation into me only ceased because of Regan. Alex is almost as alpha as me, but Regan is a perfect match. Since there can only be one hierarchy per relationship, you can guess who my money is on. Regan. So did Alex stop investigating me because he believes my hands are truly clean? Or was he willing to do anything to be a part of Regan’s life? My thoughts border precariously between both theories.
After a handful of clicks on the mousepad, Isabelle says, “Isaac, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Blaire Williams, now referred to as Mrs. Enrique Popov. Her name is on a leased apartment at a complex in west Ravenshoe. She’s been a kindergarten teacher the past two years, and up until a recent trip to Vegas for a Teacher of the Year award gala, was believed to be single.”
I arch a brow but remain quiet. Who am I to judge the swiftness of someone’s feelings? Isabelle knocked me on my ass within a second of my eyes landing on her, so who’s to say the same thing didn’t happen to Blaire.
I point to an underscored attachment in Blaire’s file. “What’s the case file attached to her dossier?”
With a grin that reveals why I fell for her so quickly, Isabelle takes a seat in my chair before pulling it in close to my desk. “This is where things get interesting. That’s a cold case from ten years ago. Blaire was the only witness to a brutal kidnapping. Katie…” She brings up a second file. “… was abducted on a relatively peaceful Sunday afternoon, and she hasn’t been seen since. The only witness to come forward about her abduction was her best friend, Blaire. In her statement, she identified the perps’ accents as Russian.”
My brows furrow. “Then she married a Russian on a whim almost ten years to the day of her friend’s abduction? That’s odd.” I’m not saying it’s right to deface an entire ethnicity by the deeds of one, but unfortunately, that usually happens more times than not.
“I thought the same thing, so I dug a little deeper.”
Isabelle brings up another file. This one is for a man with blond hair, glasses, and a battered face.
“Who’s that?”
“Timothy Jamison. He was nominated along with Blaire for Teacher of the Year. On paper, he appears to have the perfect life—a beautiful wife, three small children, and a house with a white picket fence.” I smirk at the gag she releases when she describes what most American’s believe is the ideal life. “In reality, he’s a monster comparable to Col Petretti and Vladimir Popov.”
I’m stunned she’d reference anyone to being similar to those two men, but when she brings up the photographic evidence of Timothy’s crimes, it makes sense. Only last week, he was charged with the rape and murder of thirteen women.
I prop my hip onto my desk before dropping my eyes to Isabelle. “Does the FBI believe he has any association with Katie’s abduction?”
Her shoulders slump as she sighs. “No. Unfortunately, there’s no link between him and Katie’s disappearance.”
Hearing a ‘but’ in the air, I verbalize it.
“But… their investigation into Timothy confirmed the rumblings in the barracks the past three months. Several mob entities are vying to get footholds into Hopeton… Russians included.” She sighs, not needing to hear my words to know of my suspicions. “It’s not Enrique, Isaac. He forwarded the information he unearthed onto the FBI. If it were him, why would he do that?”
Knowing Roger scanned my office for bugs earlier today allows me to talk freely. “Because extraditing him to Russia was an error on my behalf. It may have a no-extradition treaty, but it could have caused ties more fortified than blood relations.”
“Or…” She waits, loving that she’s the only woman I’ll ever wait for. “He returned to fortify ties no amount of money could ever sever.” She nudges her head to Blaire’s picture on the screen of my laptop. “Love knows no barriers, Isaac. Our relationship is living proof of this.”
4
Isabelle
Compromise can save a relationship
more than it can hurt it.
Ijust made a fatal error—one Isaac won’t let me off lightly for. The instant I switched our conversation from Enrique and Blaire to Isaac and me, I reopened an argument we’ve been having nonstop the past six months.
