“Tell Vladimir of my plans. If he approves, we will talk business after the auction.”
When I dig my hand into the breast pocket of my jacket to fish out a business card, my hand freezes partway in. The man at the end of the bar shoots his eyes away quickly, but he isn’t quite fast enough. He appears familiar but not enough for me to halt negotiations.
Before Albert can accept my business card, I snatch it back out of his reach. “But also ensure he is aware I do not appreciate unwarranted scrutiny. Businesses like this thrive off discretion. Judges don’t want Vladimir knowing their kinks any more than they do their wives. If you want this agreement to work, stay the fuck out of my backyard.”
I flick my business card to his side of the table, smirking when it scrapes the dark skin circling his eyes. The droplet of blood under his right eye adds to his murderous gleam, but my coolness to his wrath assures him I’m not the sock puppet he thought I was.
“Very well,” Albert replies after a short stretch of silence. “We will keep proceedings on the down-low as I am sure you will the pretty little princess you’re hoping to buy.”
He tosses down my whiskey like he can’t afford another twenty-seven-dollar nip before he stands to his feet. Three goons and a man hovering at the back of the restaurant copy him. The only people who remain in their seats are the man at the end of the bar and me. I can’t place his face, but I swear I’ve seen him before. He returns my stare for several long seconds before he eventually takes off on foot after Albert and his entourage.
“Make sure they head straight to the airport,” I request, conscious Hunter can hear me. “While you do that, I’m going home to shower. I feel dirty.” Isabelle’s babblings must be rubbing off on me as I was meant to keep my last sentence in my head.
Hunter doesn’t seem to mind. “You’re not the only one,” he replies before he promises to keep me up to date on the departure schedule of my unwanted guests.
I’ve just punched the final digit of the security code into the box outside of my home when my cell phone commences ringing. Assuming it is Hunter calling to update me, I hit the connect call button on the dashboard before commencing my glide down the long driveway.
When a gruff Russian voice sounds out of the speaker, I lock up the brakes so fast, tire marks scour my driveway. “If you want Callie, go to Ravenshoe Domestic Airport now.”
“Who is this?” I know it isn’t anyone from Vladimir’s inner circle because they’ve not once referred to Callie with a name. She is nothing but a sales docket number to them.
“Now, Isaac!”
Instead of racing out of the driveway like a madman when my caller hangs up, I take a moment to deliberate. Hasty decisions cause unforgiving mistakes but so can insolence. This situation isn’t prejudiced so it would be foolish of me to treat it as if it is.
With a curse word, I toss the gearshift into reverse, then tear out of my driveway without pausing to make sure the security gate closes behind me. I once again have a shadow, but this time, they saw me exit my home.
After taking a corner too fast to be safe, I jab my finger onto one of the numbers on my recently called list. Hugo answers two seconds later, but he doesn’t greet me as usual. “What the fuck is going on in Ravenshoe today? A dozen police cruisers parted the traffic like the red sea. They’re heading out your way.”
“I have no fucking clue.” I don’t take the time to relish his shocked gasp that I don’t know something. I’m too busy putting steps in place to ensure Isabelle isn’t caught in the net coming down hard and fast over Ravenshoe. “But I need you to take Isabelle to her apartment today.”
“Okay.” He sounds lost, and he does a poor job hiding the fact. “Why?”
“Because I fucking said so, that’s why!” Mindful I’m taking my anger out on the wrong person and intuitive as to why Hunter’s number is flashing across the scratched screen of my untraceable cell, I drag a hand over my hair that’s due for a trim before saying more politely, “I had a meeting with Vladimir’s number two today. It appears as if their exit plan was interrupted.”
“Shit,” Hugo murmurs under his breath.
“So until I know exactly what’s happening, I need you to keep Isabelle’s whereabouts under wraps.”
“But isn’t her name on the lease of her apartment?”
“Not anymore, it isn’t,” I answer. “It was the first document Regan fudged when Col’s interests became apparent.”
“Alright.” He still sounds unsure, but since he trusts me, he adds, “I’ll keep her under lock and key until you tell me otherwise.”
“Hugo.”
He exhales a sharp breath before he mutters, “Yeah?”
I swish my tongue around my mouth to ease out my next order. “Don’t let Isabelle onto what is happening. I don’t want her unnecessarily worried.”
“I won’t,” he breathes out with a relieved sigh. “I’ll tell her you’re indisposed or some shit. She loves me, so she’ll believe me.”
His sigh shifts to a breathy chuckle when I growl.
There’s only one man I want Isabelle to love.
That man isnotHugo.
