by Shandi Boyes
Furthermore, I have an unimaginable amount of guilt to make up for after arresting him. I need more than two lifetimes to fix the mistakes I made.
With that in mind, I yank my cell phone out of my pocket. My lips furl when I see the image Catherine forwarded me earlier. Callie is fast asleep on her bedroom floor. Today was her second week of preschool. She’s clearly finding it as exhausting as my first month back on the job.
Ravenshoe PD works on a rotating five-day roster. I work five twelve-hour shifts before having five days off. It sounds ideal until you realize how long twelve-hour days are. Our days off aren’t guaranteed, either. If a big case comes in, we’re expected to delay our days off until things cool down. It could be worse. I could be back on Alex’s schedule, which was pretty much no days off for almost two months.
Feeling much better, I return Catherine’s message before sending one to Isaac.
Me: Me and you, brunch after the wedding. We have our own event to plan.
Isaac has been pestering me the past month for an official date, so you can imagine my shock when he returns a simple, one-worded text.
Isaac: Noted.
There must be more going on with him than he’s letting on. First, not noticing my spying eye. Now, a lack of excitement at the prospect of us hammering down a date for us to wed.
Recalling our promise to forever be honest with each other, I send him another text.
Me: Is everything okay?
His reply arrives rather quickly. He was either in the process of typing it when mine arrived or he intuited what I was going to ask.
Isaac: It will be. Are you on your way home?
I nod as if he can see me.
Me: Yes. I just need to log my gun into storage first.
Because I don’t want Callie raised around guns, I clock off at headquarters at the end of every shift, then my gun can be stored in a guarded vault, thus not only making it safer for Callie, but it will stop me being wrongly accused of murder—again.
I’m so determined for Callie not to grow up in the environment Isaac freed her from, Roger no longer enters Isaac’s residence if he’s carrying a weapon. Glitter LOL dolls, stuffed animals, and her beloved bunny should be the only things she views as toys, not Glocks, semi-automatics, and paper silhouettes with bullet holes. I will forever love my Uncle Tobias, but I often wonder how different my life would have been if he occasionally sat on the floor and played dolls with me like Isaac does with Callie.
My eyes drop to my phone when it vibrates
Isaac: Okay. I will see you soon.
I lose the chance to reply when Ryan pulls his unmarked patrol car into the underground parking lot of Ravenshoe PD. The usually desolate area is bursting at the seam with vehicles—FBI vehicles.
Suspicion runs rife in Ryan’s tone when he asks, “What do you think this is all about?”
As my eyes drift to his, my shoulder notches up. “I don’t know. But if this is Alex, this isn’t a good sign. He hates bringing in outside agents in general, and even when forced, he doesn’t come in this heavy.”
A vein in Ryan’s neck works at a million miles an hour. After a short deliberation with himself, he asks, “Since it’s your first month on the job, I’ll leave the decision up to you. Are we clocking in or clocking out?”
My first thought is out. I promised Callie I’d be home in time for dinner, and I’m super eager to start my five days off with her, Isaac, and our friends to celebrate Hugo’s wedding, but there’s a niggling feeling in my gut telling me it would be the wrong thing to do.
Enrique left me a coded message only last month, Alex requested Ravenshoe PD’s help to monitor a man we know is Russian, and Isaac’s town is being swarmed by the federal agents he only got off his tail months ago. Even exhausted, I owe it to Isaac to discover what’s occurring in the town he’s endeavoring to turn into a metropolis.
With my confidence high, I say, “In.”
Ryan’s smile exposes I answered as he had hoped. “Hopefully, it isn’t as bad as it seems.” Although that’s the second time he’s used that statement this afternoon, it feels less confident this time around.
A foreign feeling overtakes me when we enter the hub of Ravenshoe PD. For months, I was on the other side of the pissing contest. This is the first time I’ll be the one accusing the Bureau of overstepping an unmarked line in the sand.
My awkwardness doesn’t linger for long. That has more to do with the beaming hazel eyes peering at me from inside the conference room than anything.
“Brandon!”
I haven’t seen or heard from him in months. After sharing the news of Ophelia’s resurrection, it was as if he disappeared off the face of the earth. I searched for him, but he was hidden as well as he hid my credentials when I started at the Bureau.
Before I have time to consider what Isaac’s response will be to me throwing myself into the arms of another man, I sling my arms around Brandon’s neck and hug him fiercely. He didn’t disappear as I thought.
“Where have you been? I was worried I’d never see you again.”
He returns my embrace long enough nearly every set of eyes in the room is on us. The only pair that isn’t belong to Ryan. He’s out in the corridor, on the phone. To who, I don’t know.
Realizing we have the watchful gawk of many, Brandon places me back onto my feet before flashing me his infamous lopsided grin. His hair is longer than I remember, and his face is a little plumper, but he looks well.
“I had a few matters to attend to.” He doesn’t mention any names, but his lack of blame exposes who he is referencing.
“I’m sorry for dropping you in all of that mess, Brandon. Alex shouldn’t have transferred you to another division.”
He watches me with cautious, shocked eyes. “Alex didn’t tell you why I was removed from his team?”
I shake my head. Confusion is seen all over my face. “No, but that isn’t unusual. Alex never tells me anything—”
“For good reason.”
I freeze when the voice interrupting us registers as familiar. When I sling my head in the direction it came from, the blond hair, sharp jaw that’s now hidden by a scruffy beard more times than not, and the icy blue eyes I’m anticipating reflect back at me. They just don’t belong to Alex. This man is either his twin or the FBI replaced Alex’s command at Ravenshoe with his doppelgänger.
Brandon guides me toward the man glaring at me in disdain. “Izzy, allow me to introduce you to Grayson Rogers, Alex’s older brother. He’s head of the division targeting Kirill Bobrov.”
I cringe, disappointed I once again failed to put my best foot forward when meeting an elusive member of the Rogers’ conglomerate.
After dragging my hand down my trousers to rid it of sweat, I offer it to Grayson. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grayson.”
“You can call me Agent Rogers.”
When he walks to a perp board several members of the Bureau are surrounding, I follow him—not minus a quick roll of my eyes. He must be like Alex was only twelve short months ago, in desperate need of a non-plastic crotch.
“You were the first unit assigned to Kirill Bobrov’s residence, yes?”
“That’s correct.”
Once the work side of my brain clicks on, I pull my notepad out of my pocket. Before I can decipher a single note, Grayson asks, “Was any movement recorded inside the house?”
“No—”
“Any deliveries? Food orders? Anything?”
If you’d give me a chance to speak, I’m sure I’d have something. “A package was delivered at—”
I hear Brandon’s back molars crunch when Grayson snatches my notepad out of my hand. “Did you get photos of the package?”
Although peeved at his rudeness, I lift my chin. “The label indicates the goods delivered were medical instruments. Gauze, tape, tweezers, scalpels…” My words trail off to silence when Grayson’s eyes snap to mine. They’re identical to Alex’s in every way, just one hundred times mor
e furious. “Is there a significant meaning as to why these goods were delivered?”
I’m not daft. I’m aware purchasing medical equipment is more diverse than ordering a pizza. I’m just snooping for the information Grayson seems unwilling to give.
“Kirill Bobrov is a brutal, unhinged ogre who feeds off the pain of others. His wife is also six months pregnant.” He drops his eyes to mine. For how icy they are, they shouldn’t have the ability to burn me at the stake, but they do. “The child she’s carrying isn’t his.”
“Oh.”
This isn’t good. If Kirill responds in the manner Vladimir does when suspicious his whores are having an affair, the need for a scalpel makes sense.
“Has anyone tried to have his wife removed from the environment?”
“Yes,” Grayson answers my question, but his aura exposes he isn’t pleased about my interrogation. “Multiple times. None have yet been successful.”
With communication lines open, although barely, I continue updating him about our watch. “A housekeeper was also noted entering the premise.” After removing my notepad from Grayson’s hand, I scan my notes so I can ensure the description in my head partners with the ones jotted down. My head is still a little a hazy from my unexpected run-in with Isaac, and I’d hate to add more disdain to Grayson’s eyes. “She was mid-to-late fifties, had wiry brown hair pulled back in a bun, and was short, standing at approximately five feet tall.”
Grayson sucks in a sharp breath. Her features must sound familiar to him. “Did you capture any images of her during surveillance?”
Nodding, I move to secure the camera from Ryan’s hand. In the process, I discover who he’s talking to. It isn’t Isaac as suspected. It’s Alex, which, if I’m honest, could end just as painfully for me. If Ryan tells Alex Brandon is here, Alex will tell Regan, who, in turn, will call Isaac. Do you understand how this won’t end well for me? Isaac hates being informed of anything secondhand, much less when it involves a man I kissed.
“The images are grainy, but Brandon has a knack for cleaning them up.”
Grayson nods, agreeing with me. After removing the camera from my hand with more sincerity than he did my notepad, he hands it to Brandon. “Bring up the images on the drop screen.”
Like magic, a giant projector screen lowers from the ceiling. I’m so fresh at Ravenshoe PD, I didn’t even know they had a drop screen in the boardroom. It feels like I’ve stepped back in time when Brandon takes a seat behind a bank of monitors on our left. Within seconds of him plugging my camera into his computer, the images Ryan and I captured earlier today flick up on the projector screen.
With his arms folded in front of his thick chest and his brow quirked, Grayson directs Brandon on which images to peruse first. “Go straight to the photos of the housekeeper We’ll come back to the package and its driver later.”
I move in closer, eager to once again immerse myself into the world of the FBI. My trip down memory lane is nipped in the bud when Grayson spots my creeper stance. With a nudge of his head and a sneer replicating his brother’s in every way, he gives me my marching orders.
“I’ll be sure to have your camera returned before your next shift.”
When my eyes stray to Brandon, he mouths that he’ll call me later. With his promise not giving me an excuse to stay, I join Ryan in the corridor just as he finalizes his call.
“You do realize that’s one of the reasons the Bureau and local law enforcement officers never get along.” I nudge my head to his cell phone. “Snitching never ends well.”
“It does when you’re ratting out the troublemakers.” When he shifts on his feet to face the glass box Grayson, Brandon, and over thirty federal agents are camped in, I join him.
I anticipate his eyes to be fixed on Grayson, so you can imagine my surprise when they follow every move Brandon makes. The fury in his eyes shocks me. Bar the occasional crossing of paths in their careers, I wasn’t aware Ryan and Brandon knew one another. If the twitching of Ryan’s jaw is any indication to go by, their relationship is anything but friendly.
7
Isabelle
He owns my heart and body.
* * *
After thirty minutes of watching a world I was once a part of from the outside, Ryan nudges his head to the evidence and storage vault I stow my gun in every night. “Come on, I better get you home before Isaac sends out the search party.”
A ghost of a smile touches my lips. “If he hasn’t already.”
I meant my comment in jest, but it’s proven accurate when my gallop down the front stairs of Ravenshoe PD occurs with the opening of a back passenger side door. Isaac slips out of his town car, his commanding aura visible on his ridiculously handsome face.
Although this is the outcome I was hoping to achieve earlier this evening, I would have preferred it to occur without a ticking jaw and clenched fists. Isaac appears as angry as hell, yet my body still thrums in anticipation. Stupid, traitorous body.
“Will you be okay?” Ryan’s tone is more humorous than concerned.
Recalling us having a similar conversation many months ago, I twist my torso to face Ryan. “I can handle Isaac better than you think.”
With a wink like a woman not about to engage in World War III, I gallop down the stairs, my speed way too eager for my liking. I could use the excuse of an extra-long weekend as the reason for my fast strides, but we all know that would be a lie. I am forever lost to this man.
Like Isaac’s mood could lower any more, it drops off a cliff when Ryan responds to my prance-like trot with a wolf-whistle. His gall increases the firmness of Isaac’s jaw, while also encouraging bystanders to get in on the action.
“He’s playing—”
“Get in the car, Isabelle.”
I need to get my head checked because instead of being frustrated by Isaac’s clipped, brusque tone, I’m turned on by it.
“Before I take you over my knee in front of Ryan, thus not only showing him what will happen when he forces you to spy on me but to also expose how my voice alone has you following my every command… not a title nor a false sense of superiority.”
There he is, that dominant, alpha male god I provoke multiple times a week for my benefit. I should be quivering in my boots that he noticed my watchful stare today. Instead, I’m relieved his receptiveness of me was as strong as it’s always been.
Goosebumps follow the trail Isaac’s hand makes when he assists me into the back of his town car. After a final glare directed at Ryan, who’s standing at the top of the stairs, he slots in next to me before gesturing for Roger to go.
Excitement dashes through my veins when he raises the privacy partition. I still have fond memories of the last time he ‘punished’ me in this car. It started with a bang, slipped downhill awfully fast when he refused to let me touch him, but ended brilliantly with him making love to me.
Although I’d rather skip the painful part, sometimes the most glorious things can’t be achieved without an occasional hair-raising bump. My relationship with Isaac is living proof of this. We went through countless horrendous things but came out the other end stronger. That’s why I’m not worried right now. He may be angry, but that won’t be the only emotion he’ll express this evening.
“Remove your clothes, including your panties.”
As heat blemishes my cheeks, I lock my eyes with Isaac’s. “Do I really need to be naked for every conversation we have?”
I imagine precum beading on the crest of his cock when a sultry smirk etches onto his mouth. “Yes, because you don’t give an inch unless I’m inside you.”
Wetness would dampen my panties if I weren’t in the process of tugging them and my trousers down my thighs. Everything is in the background of my mind, my needs forever outweighing my moral compass when it comes to this man. I can’t get enough of him. I’ll never get enough.
Excitement darts down my spine when the lowering of Isaac’s zipper is quickly chased by him pulling me toward him by a white-knuc
kled hold of my shirt, and even quicker than that, the crown of his cock is piercing through the folds of my aching sex.
He hasn’t entered me yet. He’s just letting me know he’s thick and heavy beneath me. To an outsider, his actions would appear as aggressive, but my submissive side relishes how unhinged he gets when he wants me. My inner vixen and I love being dominated by him.
“This is the only time you’re exposed, unguarded, and raw, Isabelle. Where you’re the most open and honest.”
Buttons being popped open boom over my pulse shrilling in my ears, then, not even thirty seconds later, my breasts are exposed from him tugging down the cups of my bra. Once he has one of my bouncing globes in his big, manly hand, he raises his eyes to me.
“Tell me why you were spying on me today.”
I lick my dry lips, my mouth parched from his arrowing toward the budded peak sitting high on my exposed breast. “I wasn’t spying,” I call out with a cry, loving the sting of his teeth sinking into my areola. “I was monitoring a target a few houses down when I spotted Roger.” His tongue circles my nipple, pleased enough by the honesty in my tone to soothe the burn his bite made. “He was reading a newspaper. We all know what that means.”
My sentences are broken up by the big breaths I suck in to stop my mind spiraling out of control. Isaac’s prowess has always been wondrous, but it’s even more profound when we’re in small confines, such as a car in the middle of peak-hour traffic.
“What did you hear?”
I try to act nonchalant. “Hear?”
My lie is awarded in a way that shouldn’t be brilliant but is. He bites me again, but not on my nipple this time. On the lips he warned he’d bite from the day we met. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it sends a clear warning to my lusty head that he isn’t playing.
“Lie to me again, and I’ll have Roger take us to Hyde instead of our home.”
