Page 24 of Quiet Protector
“Do you want me to call in backup?”
“No!” Grayson shouts over the frantic tap of his feet. “I’ve got this. Just do me a favor.”
“Anything,” I reply without pause for thought.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when he says, “Call your girl. This shit has gone on for long enough.” We could be in the process of being probed by aliens, and he’d still find time to rib me about reaching out to Melody. He’s done it for seven years now. I guess it’s hard to give up familiarities.
When Grayson disconnects our call, I sit on the edge of my bed for a few minutes. The urge to call Melody is somewhat overwhelming, but it’s late, and I’m fucking zonked. I wouldn’t hesitate if she had returned my text. The fact she hasn’t advises me she’s either sleeping or wants to be left alone. Neither thought appeases my edginess, but instead of switching off for the night and starting fresh in the morning, I tiptoe toward something that could end as awkwardly as I start it.
Me:What are you wearing?
Phillipa answers my text a few seconds later.
Phillipa:I’d rather show you than explain.
* * *
I stop chuckling about something Phillipa says when the door of my hotel room shoots open. With the reception as bad as I anticipated, we switched from texting to a phone conversation around thirty minutes ago. I won’t lie, it was a little awkward the first few minutes, but once we discovered we have more in common than just work, the conversation flowed more smoothly.
Although I don’t see that still being the case when the barrel of Hugo’s gun swings my way. “I’ll call you back,” I stammer into the phone, shocked at the fury on Hugo’s face.
I doubt we’ll ever be classed as friends, but I thought my understanding today when he requested to call in Isaac’s security team before the Bureau would have given me some leniency in our clashing personalities. Clearly, my attempt to flirt with Phillipa wasn’t the only foolish thing I’ve done today.
Hugo adjusts the scope of his aim when Isabelle places herself between us. With her chest balancing against his, she stares straight into his eyes. “I trust Brandon, he wouldn’t do this. He is my friend. He’s been helping me.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, completely lost. We ate dinner together only an hour ago. Hugo was fine then, so what the fuck flipped his switch?
“Why don’t you tell us,Blondie?” Hugo spits out my nickname as if it burned his tongue during delivery.
When Isabelle pivots around to face me, flashing a warning look to Hugo on the way, the heat on her cheeks augments. She’s embarrassed by Hugo’s line of questioning, but her eyes are brimming with suspicion.
I discover the reason for her confusion when she divulges, “They found a listening device in my cell phone.”
I soundlessly scoff, unsurprised. Theresa likes to play dirty.
I’m about to ask what Theresa’s game plan has to do with me just as the truth smacks into me. “I didn’t plant the bug. It wasn’t me. Izzy, you know me, I’ve been helping you.”
My eyes snap to Hugo when he growls, “You’re the only one who’s been with Izzy since I removed the last bug yesterday morning.”
Before I can deny his accusation, Isabelle pipes up. “No, he wasn’t.” When she shifts on her feet to face Hugo, her strides are unstable. “Theresa Veneto and a male agent came to my apartment yesterday afternoon. She showed me photos of Col Petretti’s right-hand man in a hospital bed. She said he was beaten the weekend Isaac and I went to Club 57. She was trying to coerce me into unwillingly incriminating Isaac.”
My hand creeps for my revolver when a third male joins us. “That’s bullshit. For one, if Isaac had tracked him down that night, he wouldn’t have left him breathing. And two, Col would never file a police report on an assault, let alone have an FBI agent consider it. He would have swept it under the rug like he always does.” A bearded man with sleeves full of tattoos walks into my room like he owns the place. He wordlessly suggests for Hugo to lower his gun by giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze before moving to stand in front of me. When I see nothing but aggression pumping out of him, it’s the fight of my life not to smile. It doesn’t matter how many notches you have on your belt, intimidation is always the best form of flattery. “Who are you?”
“Brandon James.” When I offer him my hand to shake, my lips curl into a smirk. Just like my boyish face and wonky grin hide my smarts, so does his bearded face and tattooed body. I’ve just met my match. This bearded stranger just doesn’t want to acknowledge it right now.
“What’s your real name?” He folds his arms in front of his chest as the arrogance in his eyes doubles. “Because I searched Brandon James after yourdatewith Izzy a couple of months ago, nothing came up.”
“Just like your search on Izzy failed to yield any real results?” When shock registers on his face, a voice in my head whispers,Checkmate, motherfucker.“I buried Izzy’s private life as much as I did mine.” My eyes drift to Isabelle, who’s watching me in shocked awe. “I knew they’d be looking.” Nothing is private these days. Some men do background searches before exchanging numbers, and I’m not going to mention the lengths some women go to for a suitable match, or we’ll be here all night.
With Isabelle’s anxiety as high as her brow, her reply comes out in a squeak. “Isaac already knows.”
“I’m not talking about Isaac. I’m talking about the Bureau.” Realizing now is as good a time as any to update her on what I discovered earlier today, I move to the document I printed out before reading my private investigator’s email. “You’re not the only one who’s been doing some research the past few days.”
When I hand her proof that Alex is being as unscrupulous as Isaac, hopeful it will have her paying careful attention to everyone around her, she speed-reads the article. “The Bureau paid for me to fly business class?”
I shake my head. “Not the Bureau, Izzy. Alex signed off on it.”
Isabelle’s growl rumbles through my chest. “That son of a bitch. Why would he do that?”
