Page 98 of Cole

I sank into my desk chair and latched onto every word on the page. The details of the shipment, the guns trading hands, and the shoot-out that followed. Every single detail. Sure, she didn’t mention the Hounds by name, but it was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots. A pseudonym was used for the leader of the operation. Colin Blakely. Fucking perfect.

“Where is she now?” I barked at Derek.

He jumped. “I-I don’t know, I mean, she ran off.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “She ran off?” I stood up, kicking my chair and sending it crashing into the wall. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your job is to make sure she doesn’t run off anywhere.”

I grabbed him by his cut and hauled him forward. “When I ask you where my woman is, you better always have an answer. Where. Is. She?”

A knock sounded at the door, soft and timid. I knew it was her in an instant.

I stared Derek down a little longer, letting him see the madness in my eyes, before pushing him away.

“Wait outside. Tail her when she leaves. Do it fucking right this time.”

“Yes, Boss,” Derek said, and stumbled out of the room, leaving the door open. Isabelle was framed in the doorway. Fuck, she was beautiful, and I’d missed her.

“Cole,” Isabelle said. Her voice was rough, like she’d been crying.

I sat down in my office chair, trying my best to keep my temper under control. Was I disappointed about the article? Fuck yeah. Did it change the way I felt about this woman?

No. It was too late. Nothing could.

Isabelle came into the room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Ms. Lancaster. Front page.”

“Cole, I never wrote this. I have no idea who did,” she said, starting forward. She had another copy of the paper in her hand. Was she going to show me it herself? Adorable. The way she trusted me made my heart hammer in my chest.

“Really? Whoever did seemed to have a lot of information about that night at the shipyard, and I don’t think Maddox or Gage’ writing skills are up to par.”

Isabelle scoffed. “Don’t get me started on the writing skills. A preschooler could have done a better job.” She tossed the paper on the desk.

I stared at her a beat. “Are you pissed off that the article isn’t better written?”

She shrugged. “It’s got my name on it. Of course, I wish it was better written.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

“What? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for my big break, and someone stole it from me!”

“Then I guess we’re both fucked. You’re professionally embarrassed and I’m… going to jail, maybe.”

She paled. “No one could build a case out of this. There’s nothing real in there. It’s just conjecture⁠—”

I shook my head slowly. “No, it’s not. There’s a lot of real shit in there. Enough to really put me away.” I pushed myself out of my chair. In the drawer, the burner rang. I unlocked the drawer and pulled it out, answering with my eyes on Isabelle.

“Bailey. It’s all a go. We’ve waited too long, things have progressed⁠—”

“I’m aware,” I snapped.

“No, I don’t think you are. Don’t say anything when questioned. I’ll get someone down there to you.”

“Got it,” I said shortly. “I trust you.” I hung up and put the burner back into the drawer before locking it back up again.

“Who was that?” Isabelle asked as I crossed the room to her.

“No one for you to worry about,” I told her, and pulled her into my arms. She sank into my embrace, and I’d be damned if it wasn’t the best feeling I’d ever experienced.