I promised to keep Hugo’s family safe five years ago when he entrusted me to do the right thing with the man responsible for murdering his sister. I couldn’t do that andshowboat to the FBI how I can’t be touched. Hence, my request for Hunter to install a state-of-the-art surveillance system. It can’t be hacked, but it has no issues exploiting the people watching me. The quality of the images it downloads each morning into its self-made database is second to none. It will leave no uncertainty as to what Isabelle brushed off her cheek before recommencing her morning workout regime.
Hunter’s frantic taps on the keyboard slow when I move to his side of my desk. Hugo is in pursuit of Isabelle on foot, so she’ll make it back to the residence she’s been bunking at the past month without incident. I just need to control all aspects of my life more than I care to admit.
I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t a little unnerved when Hugo advised Isabelle was boarding with a soon-to-be-retired police officer. I have nothing against law enforcement officers, many of them are associates of mine, including Roger, but I find it a little strange Isabelle knows of Detective Regina Wamba. They have nothing in common and a massive gap in age and social influence. Up until last month, it appeared as if they were strangers.
Although their connection is odd, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve yet to find a single shred of evidence that Isabelle is anything close to customary. She frequents the same bakery multiple times a day, but she has no social media accounts, no criminal record, and no indication there’s a long-term or short-term suitor in her sights. It truly appears as if she moved in with Regina to map out her future one painstaking day at a time.
My thoughts are drawn from imagining Isabelle with an array of mangy cats when Hunter’s stomach gurgles. He’s crass, a little rough around the edges, and more times than not, loves grating my last nerve, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard his body respond negatively.
“What is it?”
He peers at me like he did when he siphoned my bank account of two million dollars directly in front of me, except this time, there’s no cockiness in his grin or smug gleam in his eyes.
He appears panicked.
It’s understandable when he swivels his laptop around to face me. Recently captured surveillance of Isabelle is on the screen. It’s frozen with her hand halfway across her cheek. Since the cameras perched around my businesses are the best money can’t buy, there’s no question as to what she removed from her face before she dashed away.
It was a tear.
It’s pretentious for me to say tears usually see me backing out of a prospective relationship long before words like matrimony and family, so I won’t. Furthermore, I’m not facing the same contrition today. Isabelle’s tear was a single, almost too transparent blob to notice, but the knowledge of its existence cuts through me like a knife. It has my cunningness misplaced as fast as it did when she hid from me in the washroom.
“Send everything you have on Isabelle to my Mac.” I already know her day-to-day movements, but I’d be a fool if I continue walking into this as blindly as I have the past month. “Then re-run her credentials through the system. There has to be something we’re missing. She’s been at her job for a month. Surely, they’ve lodged some sort of tax record by now.” I laugh. It leaks how poorly my qualm is slipping. “Even the most corrupt businessman keeps some type of paper trail.”
Hunter sits a little straighter when I move to the coat rack in the corner of the large space. It’s barely five in the morning, but it’s humid enough for sweat to dribble down my back when I switch out my business jacket for one more suitable for a morning jogger.
“I don’t think Keke’s is open at this time of the day,” Hunter remarks with a chuckle. “So you won’t need a disguise.”
I hit him with a stern glare, halving his breathy chuckles. “Unlike you, I don’t need to pay for women to occupy my bed.” I stop, struggle to hold in my smirk, then start again, “Or should I say, my outdoor deck?”
The chances of reeling in my smile are lost when shock registers on Hunter’s face. He shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s the reason I knoweverythingthat happens in my town—including the women he paraded in front of his neighbor with the hope she’d be so disgusted by his antics, she would shut down the crazy notions that have been filtering in his head since she arrived on the scene.
“Forward what you have on Isabelle before shifting your focus back to Delilah. I thought an increase in the offer would have seen her on the first flight back to New York. I forgot how ominous she is when she has her eye on something.” I freeze partway to my desk, shocked I hadn’t considered this earlier. “Dig deeper into the people surrounding her. She wouldn’t stay on as Rise Up’s publicist for no reason. Find out what it is.”
Stealing his chance to reply, I snag a baseball cap from my desk drawer, then exit my office. I look utterly ridiculous jogging through the packed streets of Ravenshoe in business pants that cost more than the average American makes in a month, so I’ll skip mentioning that I’m also wearing dress shoes. My sportscar is far too noisy for my surveillance to go unnoticed, so I’ll face the injustice of looking like a fool—although it will be nowhere near as stubborn as the glare I give Hugo when he spots my approach.
Up until last month, he was my head of operations. Now he shadows Isabelle’s every move. He should be thanking her strict exercise regime. It’s seen some of the weight on his midsection harden to muscle.
“I told him this was where you were heading.” He doesn’t need to say Hunter’s name for me to know whom he’s referencing. The gleaming glint in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. “I never thought I’d add creepy stalker to your list of credentials, Isaac, but here we are—”
The remainder of his reply stuffs into the back of his throat when I hit him with an unapologetic glare. I’m not here for a psych evaluation by the man I forced into counseling so he’d face the demons of his past head-on. I want to know why Isabelle was crying.
Sensing the reason for my infrequent bout of worry, Hugo twists back around to face the house where Isabelle is stretching her quads and triceps out front. We’re half a block back, so she won’t feel my presence no matter how great the tension bristles between us is. “She’s been a little off since yesterday morning.” His chin almost touches his chest when he peers at his feet. “Appears work-related.”
“Work?” My back molars smash together, irritated by the highness of my voice. Usually, my interrogations are much more controlled, but I’m off my game, distracted by the rarity I’m concerned about a stranger’s emotions. “What makes you say that?”
Hugo scrubs a tattooed hand over the stubble on his chin. His change-up in position has also altered his dress sense. Before Isabelle arrived, I hadn’t seen him out of a black business suit and crisp white shirt in years. His jogging shorts and plain white tee reminds me of the vast collection of tattoos he’s amassed the past four years. Although I don’t know the exact reason for their origin, I feel they’re as vital to him as me ensuring Nick’s contentment is always on the forefront of my mind.
If it weren’t for my baby brother being conceived in a test tube, I’d be dead. The same could be said for Hugo if anything were to happen to his family. He barely survived the loss of his sister and unborn nephew. I don’t see him coming out of a second ordeal unscathed.
“Just a feeling.” Hugo’s eyes snap to mine when a growl rumbles in my chest. I’m all about trusting my intuition, but I hate when my staff expects me to have faith in theirs. “You didn’t ask me to watch Izzy for no reason.”Izzy, so they’re friendly enough now to be on afirst-namebasis, are they?“You did it because I’m the only person you trust with her.” I don’t correct him since every word he speaks is true. “So, you need to trust me when I say she has a lot on her plate right now. Therefore, it isn’t the right time to show your stalker tenancies, Isaac.”
I shove my hands into my pockets before glaring at him with everything I have. It does nothing but increase the grin stretched across his face.Stupid bastard.Most men quiver in their boots when subjected to my glare. Hugo relishes every one I award him.
When I struggle to devise a reply to Hugo’s mocking grin, he fills in the silence with a suggestion I never thought he’d voice. “Step back just a wee bit, then she’ll have all the room she needs to make her move.” Before I can tell him that stepping back is the equivalent of giving up to a man as dominant as me, he puts things into perspective for me. “Sometimes you just need to step back to see where all the pieces fall. If they’re on your side of the fence, I’ll keep my relationship advice to myself from here on out. If they’re not…” His words trail off as a deep groove burrows between his thick brows.
After a few seconds of quiet deliberating, he shifts his blue eyes to me. “How about we cross that bridge if we come to it?”
Not speaking another word and pinching my chance to counter an objection, he heads to his vehicle parked a few spots up. His steps are as rickety as mine when I take his unpredictable advice. It’s rare for me to do, but since I trust he won’t lead me astray, I don’t have any other option.
