Page 41 of Quiet Protector
“Maybe the extra funds for Dane’s girls aren’t coming from the direction you’re looking? Perhaps Alex got himself a sugar mommy?”
I meant my comment in jest, but Grayson doesn’t see it that way. His jaw is as tight as the expression on Regan’s face when she flees the back of the surveillance van that spent the last twenty minutes rocking along with the thrusts of Alex’s hips. It’s two in the morning, so I doubt Alex realized his quickie with Regan would be witnessed by two agents. Well, one, since I’m technically not an agent anymore. As per Alex’s demand, I emailed in my resignation earlier today. It scolded me more than I care to admit. The Bureau was my family, and now I have no one.
My thoughts return to the present when Grayson backhands my chest. “You better get a move on before we lose him again.” We spent the past two hours trawling the streets of Ravenshoe to find him. Although Alex’s response to believing I saw Regan naked should have placed her building on the top of our list, his undeniable dislike of our target had us visiting numerous nightclubs instead. It was a foolish mistake we’ll be unlikely to make again. Time isn’t on our side right now, so we can’t waste a single second.
With that in mind, I crank open the driver’s side door of my BMW. “Wish me luck.”
The brutal slam of the surveillance van door we’re parked a few spots up almost drowns out Grayson’s reply, “You won’t need it.”
The undeniable scent of sex lingers in the air when I bridge the gap between Alex and me. When he pivots around, spotting my approach, the smell augments from the fiery heat blistering through him.
“Your resignation was forwarded to the head of our department this morning. As of five this evening, you were no longer an agent on my team.”
When he attempts to skirt by me, I step into his path. “I stepped out of line.”
Alex’s shallow, painstaking chuckle booms through the crisp morning air. “You think? You not only risked my unit’s investigation, you might even do time. Do you realize that? One word, and your entire fucking career will circle the drain.” Shock registers on his features when I nod, but nothing can hold back his scorn. “If you don’t want that, I suggest you take a step back.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
When he steps up to me with his chest heaving, I maintain my ground, eager to show him I’ve been a vital part of his team. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve assisted other divisions with cases not linked with ours, and yes, I’ve placed personal investigations above Alex’s, but not once did I put his investigation at risk by doing that. If anything, I halved his workload while doubling mine.
After a three-minute-long intense standoff, Alex snatches the document responsible for our late-night exchange out of my hand. It isn’t the scheduled wire transfer receipts I had planned to show him. It’s a flight manifest Grayson’s team unearthed during our hunt for Alex. It’s proof Isaac isn’t just purchasing something from the Popovs, he’s in cahoots with them, so much so, he lodged a flight plan to Vegas for later today.
Alex shoves the freshly printed document back into my chest before sidestepping me. “Isaac takes trips like this all the time. He has a comped room at Caesars.”
He freezes mid-stride when I say, “Then why would he schedule the transfer of millions of dollars to an offshore account before his visit?” When he pivots back around to face me, his face giving nothing away, I dig a second piece of paper out of my pocket. “Over two hundred and fifty transactions verified to be distributed at the same time first thing tomorrow morning.” I hand him the document with less aggression than the annoyance heating my blood. “He kept the transfer amounts under $10,000 so as not to raise suspicion.”
Alex slants his head as his brow cocks. “Then how do you know about it?”
His suspicion is replaced with anger when I answer, “Once a device is introduced to the server, it’s never forgotten.”
“You used the intel you stole off Regan’s laptop to unearth this?” His voice is a roar that ripples through the almost isolated streets.
He fists the paper in a firm hold when I nod. “But only because I’m trying to help you.”
“You’re helping me?” Spit flies out of his mouth when his words are delivered with a disbelieving huff. “Or are you helping yourself?”
While returning his glare, I tug on the collar of my shirt to soak up his spit on my neck.
I’m truly lost as to where Alex is going with this, but I get a better idea when he stands so close to me, our chests compete for space with every breath we take. “I’ll hand it to you… you’re smart, have a way with computers, and the looks to fly under the radar for as long as you have, but there’s one skill you’re lacking that will ensure other agents constantly step over you.” He watches the bob of my Adam’s apple before continuing, “You can’t read people. You can’t tell the difference between a friendly glance and a lusty one when a woman is asking you on a second date, or if she’s sizing you up to see if you’re a serial killer. Even when the painstakingly obvious is staring you in the face, you’re too busy evaluating everything around it instead of the picture you should have been looking at the entire time.”
When the fuck did this turn into a lecture about my dating life? Furthermore, who is he to give me advice? He doesn’t know me. Nobody does.
My anger gets a second wind when Alex says, “You said on the courthouse stairs last week that the only difference between Isabelle and me was that I stupidly fell in love.” His eyes bounce between mine as his lips curl. “You know that isn’t true. Whether we agree with it or not, Isabelle loves Isaac.”
I scoff and shake my head at the same time. “She doesn’t know him—"
Before I can get out the rest of my sentence, Alex says, “I know, but neither do we. Not really. Isaac keeps everyone at arm’s length, even those closest to him, so how can we trust anything we’ve read? We were trained from the get-go to devise our own opinions, but no one has done that in Isaac’s case.”
Is he saying what I think he is? Does he believe Isaac isn’t the man his file portrays? If so, he needs to get his head checked because I just gave him proof Isaac isn’t just lying to Isabelle, he’s playing her for a fool.
My shock reaches an entirely new level when Alex says, “If you really care for Isabelle, help me help her.”
“How?” I ask, confused and somewhat concerned I’m dreaming.
“The bugs in Isabelle’s phone.”
He knows about them?
