Page 42 of Quiet Protector
“Do you have the serial numbers for them?”
I nod. They were one of the many tidbits of evidence Phillipa, Harvey, and I processed while Isabelle was being entertained on Isaac’s yacht. No solid leads came from them. They were either privately purchased or not registered with the Bureau’s mainframe. “They’re no good. I ran them through our system twice. Nothing popped up.”
“That’s not what I asked, Brandon,” Alex snaps, frustrated. “I have access to channels you can’t access.” Apfftnoise vibrates my lips, but Alex pretends not to hear it. “The more people looking into Isabelle’s case, the better off she’ll be. I thought you cared for her, Brandon.”
“I do,” I admit, nodding. “Very much so.”Has the way I protected and looked out for her the past several months not proven that?
The harshness tainting Alex’s face softens when he requests, “Then give me what I need. It might not lessen the severity of your insubordination, but it will do more good than harm to Isabelle’s case.”
“Fine. I’ll give them to you.” Alex thinks my agreement is the end of our conversation. I have news for him. “On one condition.”
“You’re not in a position to make negotiations, Brandon.”
His attitude takes a step back when I reply, “Neither are you. Even if youwronglybelieved I just arrived, you can’t honestly believe I’m stupid enough not to smell the heady aroma of lust lingering in the air. You’re in the wrong as much as I am, Alex. You’re just too pigheaded to admit it.”
The anger reddening his face is so convincing, even Grayson reacts to it. I hear the passenger side door of my car crack open before the faintest scuffle of a pair of boots trickles into my ears. Alex hasn’t spotted his approach, though. His focus is too much on me to pay attention to anyone around us. “I amnotrogue.”
“Prove it. Release your bank records to the Bureau. Open the book you usually keep closed. Show them you’re not so gung-ho on taking down Isaac, you’re personally funding his demise.” With his shock higher than his urge to pummel some sense into me, I sidestep him before heading in the direction opposite the way Grayson is, ensuring I maintain his cover. “Once your bank records are uploaded, I’ll forward you the serial numbers from the bugs in Isabelle’s phone.”
I make it halfway around the block before Grayson pulls my car up beside me. “That was risky, punk.”
I slide into the passenger seat of my car. “You needed a way in.”
“He may not come through. You pissed him the fuck off. I’ve never seen his face as red as it was when you walked away.”
“He’ll come through,” I reply confidently, “He’s too desperate not to.” I know this because I too am willing to do anything for the woman I love. I’d even go as far as killing a man for her, so a little blackmail is barely a blip on the radar.
17
Brandon
Inever thought I’d miss Grayson’s annoying snicker in my ear, but right here, right now, I’d give anything to have it. Our team is ready, Isabelle’s extraction and departure from Ravenshoe occurred without incident, and Hugo—who I’m learning goes everywhere Isabelle goes—only wordlessly threatened me three times during our trip. Yet, one glance of Melody’s back as she leads Socks down the property line, and I’ve forgotten my name, my age, and every detail of our operation I read three times the past twenty-four hours to ensure it was retained.
This is the first time I’ve seen Melody in the flesh in over seven years.
Seven.
Years.
Liam trained me well, but not even the world’s most decorated gymnast could have prepared my stomach for the somersault of emotions that hit it when I spotted her. She isn’t supposed to be here. She was witnessed by my private investigator entering her workplace this morning, so why is she here?
If I were a man who believed in coincidences, I’d say this is fate. Since I’m more skeptical than a man swayed by influences outside of his power, I pretend my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour. Let me tell you, it’s a fucking hard feat.
Even Isabelle notices my struggles. She squeezes my hand before giving me a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this.”
Before I can respond, Hugo pulls my car in front of my family’s ranch wooden garage, and an entirely new set of emotions takes hold of my senses. The oak tree my father had cut down within weeks of Joey’s death has regrown. It’s nowhere near the size it once was, and it is set back too far from my window to be used as an entrance, but it’s still there, living and existing, unlike Joey.
When Hugo throws open the driver’s side door of my car, familiar, homey smells add to the wetness pricking my eyes. I have a handful of bad memories here, but I also have a heap of good ones. The creek that runs through the back of the property is where Joey and I use to collect baby crayfish. Melody and I didn’t just have a fort on her side of the fence, we also had one near the creek, and Liam taught us how to drive in a beat-up old Honda in the sloshy fields at the back of his paddock. It hurts coming here, but if I’m open to the idea, I think it could also be healing.
I wonder if that’s why Melody is here too?
It wasn’t just my life that crumbled here, so did hers.
A grin curls on my lips when Hugo protests to an aroma that instantly reminds me of home. “All I can smell is cow dung.”
Isabelle’s happiness is louder than mine. She has a reason to laugh. Hugo has plugged his nose like animal manure is more potent to his lungs than the pollution they suck in every day at Ravenshoe.
“Which bag is yours?” Isabelle eyes Hugo in confusion when he ruffles through the half-dozen bags she packed in search of mine. Her confusion is understandable. Only last night we discussed her staying at my family ranch. It isn’t the glorious farmhouse it once was, but the contractors my mom hired are slowly restoring it to its former glory, so it’s up to code for weekend visitors.
