Page 16 of Quiet Protector
She glances over her shoulder to check we’re still alone before nodding. “With the last two witnesses believed to have been contained and Kirill returning to Russia, things went dormant for years.”
“Then Crombie’s deal ruffled feathers.”
Although I’m not asking a question, Phillipa answers me as if I am. “Yes. You weren’t the only one suspicious about his early release. Henry started asking questions, and for some reason, his were answered more readily than mine.”
“He also has a scary amount of access to government buildings in New York. Although Crombie wasn’t technically a threat to Melody anymore, he was one of a rare few who knew Melody wasn’t dead, so it makes sense for Henry to cut off that loose thread.”
Phillipa remains as quiet as a church mouse, but I don’t need her to speak to know she too believes Henry organized Crombie’s death. Her eyes are very telling. The investigation of Crombie’s death taught her the consequences of throwing someone into the deep end without first assessing all the evidence presented. She doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
I use her silence to decompartmentalize all the information we’ve unearthed jointly and separately the past week. Although it appears obvious who I should be devoting my attention on, there are too many teams in game mode right now to solely focus on one. I can’t change what happened to Joey, but I can stop the same thing happening to Melody.
If Melody is being sheltered under Henry’s umbrella, she’s virtually untouchable. An army of men couldn’t protect her better than Henry’s enemies knowing the consequences they’ll face if they touch her, but I don’t want to hand responsibility for her safety over to Henry. He may be related to her by blood, but Liam removed her and Wren from that environment for a reason. If he didn’t believe Henry’s reputation could keep them safe, why should I?
I shouldn’t, and that’s why I’m not going to.
Phillipa’s chest stops showcasing her breaths when I say, “I need you to amend the transcript from your interview with Melody to include the photographic evidence you missed.”
“What photographic evidence? I didn’t take any.” Her eyes pop open as the left side of her brain clicks on. “And aren’t you concerned that will cause more conflict for Melody? As much as I love the Bureau and one hundred percent believe it does more good than bad, there’s more going on here than we realize. What I had to give up to get access to these files is proof of that, not to mention being placed on suspension only hours after submitting my initial report.” When I peer at her in confusion, uneased by the last half of her comment, she discloses, “My father only agreed to give me these files after I said I’d remain with IA for the rest of my career. If I’m chasing rogue agents, I’m not dodging bullets.”
Her lips curve into a faint grin when I murmur, “Allegedly.”
“Allegedly,” Phillipa parrots as her smile picks up.
Her eyes float from her balled hands to my face when I ask, “Do you think his opinion would change if you took down the twelfth man on the FBI’s most-wanted list?”
I smile when she replies, “Rimi Castro hasn’t been seen since the foiled sting at his compound last year.” An average agent wouldn’t have known who I was referencing without first checking the FBI’s database. Phillipa knew immediately, meaning she doesn’t belong in IA for the next thirty-plus years. She should be on the field—with me.
“He could be tempted out of hibernation for the right reason.” The fact Phillipa doesn’t jump in like she usually does, exposes her confusion. Hoping to ease it, I say, “Kirill Bobrov returned to the US stronger than he was when he left. He has amassed an impressive amount of wealth, grew his army by over a thousand men, and is wiser than he was seven years ago. That amount of growth gains him the admired eye of many, including his enemies.”
When I hand Phillipa a flight manifest for a private charter from Taos, New Mexico to Fraser, Colorado, she reads between the lines. “Castro killed his brother, so why would Kirill side with him?”
I mentioned hearing bluebirds in the background of my call with Grayson two weeks ago when numerous attempts to reach him earlier this week failed to yield results. We pinpointed his last communication to be around the Colorado ranges, but we couldn’t gain an exact location. Castro’s operation has always been in the New Mexico region. The money his illegal activities pumped into the community means they’d be more than willing to shelter him and his men until the heat died down.
The flight manifest could be a coincidence, but I stopped believing in those a very long time ago. Furthermore, the Castros were utilizing Russian weapons during our raid, so I’m beginning to suspect Kirill’s decision to return to the US wasn’t made because he missed baseball. The Bobrovs and Castros are forming an alliance. I’m certain of it.
When Phillipa hands the manifest back to me, she arches her brow, reminding me I failed to answer her question. “We know Castro murdered Kirill’s brother, but Kirill doesn’t know that. Milo was killed on Gottle turf. Who’s to say Castro didn’t do that to play both Henry and Kirill?”
Her eyes bulge as her mouth falls open. “And Henry killing Crombie played right into Castro’s hand. With Crombie dead, Castro thinks his secret is safe.” The width of her pupils double. “Then, I logged a report full of misconceptions.” She slaps herself on the forehead. “Stupid, stupid woman.”
“Although I want to agree with you, your jump of the gun will help bring Castro out of hiding.” She peers up at me with wide, uneased eyes when I say, “He’s hunting Melody with decade-old photos. He’ll have a better chance of finding her when you amend your report.”
Phillipa’s smirk matches mine when she mutters, “You want to slot an agent’s photo in Melody’s place?” When I jerk up my chin, smiling, she adds, “Do you have someone in mind?”
My grin doubles. “I do, and I think she’ll be perfect for the role.”
7
Brandon
My stomach flips when I raise my hand to knock on Isabelle’s apartment door. I’m not nervous because I don’t have Grayson jabbering in my ear this time around to conceal my nerves, it’s because Isabelle wasn’t the agent I was referencing this morning. I was hoping Phillipa would fulfill the role, forgetting her earlier mention that she went undercover as Crombie’s girlfriend with the hope of securing more information on Rimi Castro. Although she never directly met with Castro, he’d know who she is. He’s as bad as Isaac about keeping tabs on any females in his crew’s lives.
When Phillipa suggested bringing Isabelle into our ruse, I was dead set against it. She already has Theresa riding her ass, so the last thing I want to do is pull her into a shitstorm. Regretfully, after hours of consideration, we couldn’t come up with another candidate. We can’t trust anyone in Phillipa’s team as it’s clear she has a leak, and my connection to the failed Castro sting last year would have me yanked off this case the instant we disclosed our plans to the leader of my division.
That’s why we’ve decided to go it alone. Phillipa’s partner, Arrow Moses, will be in charge of comms, and Phillipa and I will run recon. As much as I want to advise Isabelle of our plans, Phillipa talked me out of it. Until we can prove there are no links between Isaac and the Castros, we have to keep quiet because, for all we know, the down payment Isaac made to the Popovs last week could have been for anything, so we can’t take any additional risks. Isabelle is an agent, she topped her classes, outranked every agent during marksmanship training, and is on suspension. Phillipa is right. She’s the perfect choice.
I just need my stomach to get on board with our plans.
The jittery response of my stomach weakens when Isabelle swings open her apartment door. She’s dressed casually like me and smiling brightly. I wait for her to stop soaking in my designer outfit before pulling out a bouquet of yellow roses from behind my back. I hadn’t planned to arrive with anything when Phillipa and I stepped through our plan of attack, but the florist on the corner of Hyde called to me when I exited my vehicle. I’ve never officially dated, so I need all the help I can get to convince Isabelle to slip out of Isaac’s grip for just a day.
