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Don lowers the window beside him and spits out his gum onto the street. He closes the window and then turns to me as if mulling over what I’ve just said. “Look at you. You think that’s valuable information? Huh? Even beggars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame know the Hartleys are working with the Air Force!”
“I’m telling you what I know.”
“I want his card.”
“I haven’t seen it on him.”
“Isabelle.” Don clenches my jaw. His anger collects at his fingertips, and they tremble against my bone. “Clayton Hartley is never without his card.”
I fight the force, telling the Reaper, “Have you been in bed with him? I’ve never seen it!”
He studies my expression. “Perhaps he hasn’t trusted you yet.”
“Look, the tour will happen in a couple of days. Royalty is coming to Hartley Marine, and Clayton is taking me.”
“Excellent. Now, surely, in his office, the card will be on him.”
“Yeah. Can I go now?”
He grabs my wrist. “Not so fast. Do you know? I just made a substantial donation to support Social Services. One day, if I told them that the boy I’ve loved as my own son has been under the care of his abusive, murderer mother, they would believe me.”
“Fuck you, Don!”
“Some details may be vague or contestable, but the stake’s too high—they’ll look the other way.” His satisfied laugh slaps me.
“I will get that card for you, Don.”
“Good. Because now you know I have my fingers in more than one pie.” He pulls me by the throat, drawing me close to his face. His beastliness eclipses my vision.
“Then you’d better take it easy on those, or you might have a heart attack.”
He scorns, “Funny. But you won’t be laughing when things that you’ll never imagine could happen start raining down on you.”
“I’ve never fucked Hartley in his office,” I flap. “I’m sure it’ll be a mind-blowing experience for him.”
He caresses my cheek. “You’re a fast learner.”
“I’ll get his card for you.”
“I don’t doubt it. When you do, call this number.” He sends me a text message. “I won’t need the card for even more than an hour.”
I bore into him, my teeth gritting behind my closed mouth. “Now let me go.”
He unlocks the door, but he holds on to me. “I’ll set you and Raffi free. But right now, you’re on a short leash.”
24
ISABELLE
On a short leash—I certainly am. The man who arrives at my gate reminds me of it.
I stride toward his car before he has a chance to turn the engine off.
“You wanna take someone? Take me!” I present my wrists as if there was a pair of handcuffs waiting for me.
Don’s bodyguard remains quiet. Even behind his sunglasses, I know he’s not after me.
“He’s not here,” I snigger. Pippa had taken Raffi with her early this morning, even though my invitation to Hartley Marine was still hours away. I don’t think the man anticipated that.
