Page 17 of Quiet Protector
“Brandon, you shouldn’t have.” Isabelle’s eyes shine as brightly as the crystal vase the roses are in when she accepts them from my grasp.
“I thought they’d brighten your day.”
I pat myself on the back when she leans in to place a kiss on my cheek, then I grimace when my cheeks inflame partway through her friendly gesture. I’m not aroused from her childish peck. I am being burned at the stake by Hugo, who’s standing behind Isabelle’s shoulder, glaring at me. I told Isabelle to fly under the radar. She can’t do that and associate with a man whose movements have been as ghostly as Castro’s the past five years.
My lips purse when Isabelle gives Hugo a warning look in the process of placing her gift onto the entryway table. She twists and turns the vase a handful of times before offering to take my jacket. Eager to establish whose side she’s on, I join her in the coat closet. The tight quarters increase Isabelle’s florally scent while also doubling the odd heat bouncing between us. She must be struggling this week as her responses are usually cooler than they are.
“Isn’t he Isaac’s bodyguard?” I stumble over my last word. Even reading the transcripts from Hugo’s court case hasn’t unearthed who Hugo really is.
He’s as enigmatic as Isaac.
Isabelle shrugs. “He isn’t Isaac’s bodyguard. He’s more anassociateof his.” Smiling, she crosses the room before offering up an introduction. “Hugo, this is myfriend, Brandon.” I don’t miss the way she emphasizes ‘friend’ any more than Hugo. “Brandon, this is my…friend, Hugo.”
While smirking at Hugo’s frustration about being placed on the same team as me, I join them in the middle of Isabelle’s living room. “It’s nice to meet you.”
When I offer him my hand in greeting, Hugo accepts it, although hesitantly. “Pleasure.” His ability to lie is as bad as his acting skills. He’s not happy about my visit, not in the slightest, but for some reason, he doesn’t believe he can express that to Isabelle, proving they’re more work colleagues than friends.
That pleases me more than it should.
Nothing against Hugo, from what I’ve read, he was fucked over by my father as well as I was, but you can’t excuse a lifetime of mistakes on one person. If you could, I would have stopped feeling guilt a long time ago.
My eyes stray to Isabelle when she mumbles, “When did I become Ms. Popular?”
Guilt floods her attractive features as quickly as amusement does when she catches Hugo’s and my gawp. I don’t know why Hugo is gawking at her. I’m staring because I am glad sleeping with the enemy hasn’t changed her quirks. She was busted talking out loud many times her first six months on the job, but this is the first one I’ve heard since she was seen going home with Isaac.
Over our prolonged stares, Isabelle splays her hands across her cocked hip and arches a brow. “All right, spill, what are you two up to?”
It’s the fight of my life not to roll my eyes like a child when Hugo mutters, “I’ve got nothing better to do with my time anymore, so I may as well hang out with you.”
Although I’m confused by his statement, Isabelle has no trouble reciting it. As the guilt in her eyes augments, she shifts on her feet to face me. For a woman facing ten to twenty years for conspiracy in aiding and abetting a criminal by supplying him with official government documents, she looks remarkably smug.
Preferring to hold our conversation in private, I nudge my head to her apartment door. “I need to talk to you. In private.”
Before Hugo can voice any of the disdain in his eyes, Isabelle clasps my hand in hers before making a beeline for the hallway. Hugo doesn't follow us, but I have my suspicions he’s eager for some privacy. His eyes darted to a stack of boxes the instant Isabelle turned her back on him.
Once I’m confident I have my script in order, I raise my eyes to Isabelle’s. “I need a favor.”
I’m taken back when she answers, “Anything, Brandon.”
I had hoped my friendship would be reciprocated one day, and today is as good a day as any. She didn’t hesitate, not in the slightest, so it makes what I’m about to say ten times easier. “Thank you, Izzy.”
What?Every man knows you always begin a negotiation with a compliment. Only once you’ve smothered them in gooey goodness do you hit them with the big stuff. “I need a date.” When Isabelle balks, I talk faster. “My mom is chairman of a charity that holds an annual gala. I tried to get out of it, but she won’t accept any of the excuses I’m giving.” When her facial expression gives no indication she’s sympathetic to my plea, I veer my ruse in a direction even I hadn’t considered. “I don’t want to go alone because Melody will be there.” The uneased mask on Isabelle’s face slips away in an instant, assuring me I’m on the right path. “I am so desperate for a date, I'm not below getting on my knees and begging. Please, Izzy. I'll do anything, anything at all if you'll fake liking me for one night.”
The wish to find a shallow ditch to bury myself in weakens when Isabelle mutters, “I do like you, Brandon.” Gratitude for charming, boyish features fills me when she adds, “So I'm sure it won't be hard pretending I'm your date for a night.”
My cheeks groan in protest from their sudden movements when a blistering smile stretches across my face. “Thank you, Izzy, thank you.”
My grin sags when she mutters, “You’re welcome… but now,Ineed a favor.”
Although hesitant, I agree to her request as quickly as she did mine. My favor comes with dangerous consequences, so it’s only fair I give up just as much.
My heart beats out a thunderous tune when Isabelle discloses, “I’ve been looking a little deeper at Megan Shroud.” I then realize I have no reason to panic when she garbles, “There are a lot of holes in her file I could fill in by driving out to her hometown to check things out.” She licks her dry lips before adding, “The thing is, I don’t have a car, so can I please borrow yours?”
I almost dip my chin, but the quickest idea pops into my head, stopping me. “It hasn’t recovered from the last time you drove it.” I wink and smile when she pouts. “But I’m more than happy to drive you there.”
“Really?” She shouldn’t be as stunned as she is. Not only will this give me a chance to look a little deeper into Carlyle Shroud’s purchase twenty-nine years ago, but the guilt that’s been eating me alive the past four hours may slacken.
“I still have nightmares from when you went to her hotel room alone. I refuse to make the same mistake twice.” I’m not lying. Letting Isabelle go to Megan’s hotel room alone was a stupid thing for me to do. I should have gone with her. Alas, I’m too nosy for my own good. “I have the weekend off, so why not go on an adventure?”
