Page 25 of Quiet Protector
I want to replybecause that’s what all condescending, narcissistic men do, but instead, I shrug. I’m standing across from two of Isaac’s goons. Only an idiot would break cover now. Furthermore, this inches me one step closer to becoming a part of Isaac’s team. Money can’t buy this spot, but fake loyalty sure as fuck can.
11
Brandon
“Have you worked with Isaac long?”
Hunter slides open the back of his surveillance van before climbing in to gather the equipment needed to do a 3D scan of Megan’s bedroom. Other than handing over the serial numbers of the listening devices found in Isabelle’s apartment at Isaac’s request last night, he hasn’t spoken a word to me. He’s not happy I’m here, but since he does whatever Isaac tells him to do, he’s stuck with me.
“Want me to get a head start on logistics?” When I crack open one of his many laptops, Hunter slams down the screen, yanks it out of my grasp, then jerks his head to the open front door of the Shroud’s family ranch, wordlessly telling me to fuck off. I could let him off easy, but where’s the fun in that? “What processor are you using? Those things look chunky. You could cut down weight by—”
“They’re chunky for a reason.” I slant my head to hide my smile, stoked I forced him to talk. “Just like my foot… so it causes more damage when it’s rammed up the asses of annoying fuckfaces who can’t take the hint to fuck off when they’re not wanted.”
“Jeez. Did someone forget to eat their Wheaties this morning?”
He steps out of the van to meet me chest to chest. Since he’s a good three to four inches taller than me, I have to look up to see his glare when he says, “I know what you’re doing. I read your game plan from a mile out and followed the breadcrumbs you left while trying to conceal your tracks, so quit the fucking games and bow out of the fight before I tell Isabelle the real reason you changed your last name to James, Brandon McGee.” The way he overemphasizes my last name makes me hate it even more. Not even my mom goes by it anymore, that’s how bad the bile is anytime we’re forced to use it.
Even with the horrid taste in my mouth thickening my tongue, I remember my objective. “I’m just trying to help.”
I realize I’ve been swinging my bat the wrong way when Hunter snarls. “You’re trying to get into Izzy’s panties, which will never happen, so why not give up now and fuck off back to wherever you came from.”
After slamming his van door shut, he makes a conscious effort to prove it’s locked before he gallops up the rickety stairwell with a tripod and 3D camera thrust under his arm.
I take a quick breather to strategize my next move before following after him. I’ve only just gained Isaac’s trust, so bowing out now isn’t an option. I’ve got to up my game. Not just for me but Isabelle as well. She hung herself out to dry for me last night when she told Isaac she trusts me, so the least I can do is make sure she isn’t falling for a guy set out to destroy her.
When my return to Megan’s room has me stumbling onto Isaac taking a call in the hallway, I slow my strides before yanking my cell phone out of my pocket. Hoping to catch portions of his conversation, I dial my voicemail before leaving myself a message. The worst thing an agent can do when faking a call is not to dial a number. Trust me, you’re guaranteed to get an unexpected call the instant you commence your ruse. It happened to Grayson more than twice when he was a rookie. Tobias never let him live it down.
I take on a second approach to my ruse when thoughts of Tobias’s training processes drift into my mind. He was often accused of having an unscrupulous friendship with Henry Gottle, yet I never judged him on it, so why am I not giving Isaac the same leeway? If he believes I’m his friend, and he’s given me his trust, that has to be more beneficial than hiding in the shadows waiting for him to stumble, right?
Right.
This time, I dial a real number.
Phillipa answers quickly. “Good morning.”
My brow cocks. “Morning? It’s almost ten.”
I hear her stretch in her yawn. “Cut me some slack. I had a late one, so I slept in.”
Even with my chest swelling with smugness, I’m not taking any credit for the huskiness of her words. We talked until the wee hours of this morning, but that was more to drown out the noises I didn’t want to hear two rooms over than anything else. We behaved—for the most part.
I can’t say the same for Isabelle and Isaac. If I had any doubt they hadn’t acted on the bristling chemistry that bounced between them last night, I don’t anymore.
Disturbed by the waywardness of my thoughts the past week, I squish my phone closer to my ear before asking, “Can you give me the deets on Carlyle Shroud? Something fishy is still going on here, but it feels murkier than just a kidnap-for-sale arrangement.”
“Justa kidnap-for-sale arrangement? Jesus, Brandon, you’ve been in the field too long. Time for desk duty.”
I physically gag. “I’d rather die than work behind a desk. The months I spent at HQ between placements were bad enough.”
Phillipa’s laugh does weird things to my cock, but since I’m trying to pretend it isn’t hardening in the middle of the day like a freak, I shift my focus elsewhere. “Did Grayson log movement sheets last night?”
“Yeah,” Phillipa replies between keystrokes. “He also requested additional comms for the event he referenced last night.”
“Was permission granted?”
I smile in gratitude when she says, “It was when I pushed through his request. You’re right, BJ, sometimes flexing a bit of muscle does more good than bad.” She breathes slowly out before asking, “Got a pen?”
I yank a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of my suit jacket before telling her to go ahead.
