The Wedding: Enigma, #17

by Shandi Boyes

  I take a step back in shock when Enrique says, “Katie Byrne.”

  “The girl who was abducted over a decade ago?” This question is from Ryan, not me, although you wouldn’t know with how high his tone is.

  Enrique acts as if he isn’t in the room with us, but thankfully, that doesn’t stop him talking. “I’ve been following a paper trail the past month. Katie was abducted from Windsor Street at 5:59 in the evening.” He speaks as if he’s talking more from experience than second-hand reports. “Her abduction was reported within minutes of it occurring. An amber alert was sent out with partial plates, yet she was never found.”

  When he stands, Ryan’s hand hovers over his gun. I don’t blame Ryan for being cautious. Enrique is tall, wide, and has a commanding aura that could rival Isaac’s, but I still signal for Ryan to stand down. If my assumptions are right, Enrique is just like Isaac. He doesn’t need a weapon to protect himself. If he wanted to take Ryan down, he’d already be down by now, so he has no reason to be cautious.

  “There were three known Russian entities in the vicinity at the time of her abduction.” The map of Ravenshoe on the wall is outdated, but the towns surrounding it are still oddly similar. I guess that occurs when you don’t have a man like Isaac developing it. “Two were raided shortly after the amber alert was issued. One had a three-hour window to have her extracted.”

  “Extracted?” I join Enrique near the map. My thighs are still shaky, but it’s more from adrenaline than fear. “They took her out of the country?”

  Enrique notches up his chin. “The Petrovs have been in the traffic conglomerate for decades, but unlike their competitors, they offer an all-inclusive package.”

  “All-inclusive?” Once again, this question is from Ryan, not me.

  Enrique pivots around to face him. The shock in his tone is enough to have him acknowledging his presence for the first time. “They break their slaves until they don’t act, move, or speak without first asking permission. Once they conform, they sell them to clients needing more than a whore to warm their sheets.” He points to an airstrip that was decommissioned years ago. I know of its existence as Isaac has been considering it as a location for a new commercially-run airstrip. “The Petrovs had a cargo shipment flown out of Hopeton only two hours after Katie was abducted. Customs in Moscow cited a blank inventory.”

  Ryan makes a pfft noise. “That’s not unusual. Officials are paid well to turn a blind eye.”

  Enrique twists his lips, somewhat agreeing with Ryan’s assumption. “I thought the same thing until I discovered who the initial shipment was invoiced to. The Yurys don’t respond kindly to delayed shipments.”

  My throat becomes dry. Even non-Russian affiliates know who the Yurys are. They’re one of the most feared Russian entities in the world, some would say on par with the Popovs.

  “If this is true, why would Kirill bring Katie back here?” Unease jangles off my vocal cords. “Surely, he’d be paranoid someone would recognize her.”

  “It’s a game for him. He wants Katie to be recognized, to prove not even her roots will have her disobeying him.” Enrique hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “He also wants to toy with him.”

  When I crank my neck in the direction he’s pointing, my heart lurches into my throat. Not only is Grayson standing in the corridor glaring at me, so is Isaac.

  21

  Isabelle

  Trust is a dangerous but worthwhile game.

  * * *

  Isaac’s steps are so furiously fast, I have to jog to keep up with him. Grayson allowed him to sit in on an interrogation he had no right to be a part of. He even allowed him to speak to Enrique alone, but he’s still fuming mad. Enrique wasn’t arrested by Ravenshoe PD for no reason. He went this route because he knew the officers on the beat wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut about the victorious arrest.

  Word would spread that he had been detained, meaning it wouldn’t just reach my ears, it would spread to the Bureau’s as well. Enrique’s last contact had run dry, so he sought water from a new well—one he knew would serve him well since he knew the identity of an agent they had undercover, an agent who just happened to have the same blood as them.

  Erik Monstrateo pleaded for Enrique not to go down this path, but with his desperation at an all-time high, Enrique ignored his advice. To free his wife from the dark and dangerous world of the Bratva, he made a deal with the devil, and he’s been paying for it ever since.

  Enrique has proven time and time again that Vladimir’s crimes far exceed anything the Bureau has ever seen, yet it still isn’t enough for the Bureau to take his claims that Katie’s life is in jeopardy seriously. Grayson is listening. Alex is halfway over the fence, but the big bureaucrats at the top of the food chain aren’t budging on their stance that Katie’s life isn’t more valuable than the many they could save if they sit on their hands and watch.

  That’s where I came in. Enrique advised Kirill had placed an advertisement for a nanny slash housekeeper to assist his wife in the months before and after the birth of their first child. It wasn’t a standard advertisement you’d find in the classified section of a newspaper. He wants a woman broken as effectively as his wife. One that wouldn’t ask any questions no matter the scenario. The ability to speak Russian was appreciated, and she had to be newly broken.

  My Russian is poor, but my birthright makes me an ideal candidate. The Popovs are known for their disinclination for strong-willed women. If Vladimir can’t break them, he sends them to someone who can. I was sold, and as far as anyone in the underworld is concerned, I was to be tortured into submission.

  The instant I suggested applying for the position, Isaac commenced removing me from Ravenshoe PD against my wishes. He has shown me I’m a strong, determined woman, but he’s not giving me a chance to prove it.

  “I won’t be in any danger. If I’m shortlisted, Kirill will conduct his interviews in a public location. He’d never risk taking a stranger to his home, so what’s the worst that could happen?”

  When Isaac continues dragging me down the corridor, not the least bit confronted by the number of gawks we’re getting from my fellow officers, I dig in my heels, endeavoring to slow him down. That would be a heap easier to do if he weren’t so strong and the flooring wasn’t done in glossy tiles.

  “Isaac, please.”

  “No, Isabelle.” His furious tone shouldn’t quicken my pulse, especially under the circumstances, but it does. “This is not up for discussion. You are not putting yourself directly in front of a man as vile as Kirill Bobrov.”

  The panic in his eyes almost chokes me, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “What if Katie was me? What if that’s how my life ended up if my uncle hadn’t bought me? Doesn’t she deserve to have someone more than Enrique on her side?”

  That stops his feet, finally. “Enrique didn’t come here seeking Ravenshoe PD’s help, Isabelle.” He points down the hall we just walked as if Enrique’s dark gaze is one of the many we have locked on us. “He came here because he knew you wouldn’t be able to say no. That you’d sympathize with Katie because you forever wonder what your life would have become if Tobias hadn’t bought you. He wants to use you as a pawn, Isabelle. I’m not going to let him. You may have Popov blood in your veins, but you have my last name.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like a possession all the while acting like you’re stopping someone from doing the same thing. I know why Enrique is here, Isaac. I know why he broke his taillight at the time he did, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing my job.”

  Tears glisten in my eyes when I switch tactics. “And don’t act like you weren’t also imagining Callie every time you looked at Katie’s photos. Her eyes may not be the color of mine, but they’re just as hollow and bleak as Callie’s where when she first arrived in Ravenshoe.”

  “Isabelle…” The groan of my name was neither in anger or agreement. He’s pained, which, if I’m being honest, is more concerning. “He could hurt y
ou.”

  I shake my head without a second thought. “No. You would never allow that to happen.”

  “This isn’t my operation. This isn’t my crew.”

  Isaac’s reply pops a brilliant idea into my head. “If it were, would you be open to the idea of me helping to unearth Kirill’s real residence?” When he peers at me with scrunched brows, I try to settle his confusion. “Although Kirill’s name is on the lease of his St. Peter’s property, no one has been seen entering or exiting the past week, raising suspicion that it isn’t his actual residence. He’s using it as a front to deceive law enforcement officials.”

  Isaac makes a face like he understands exactly what I’m talking about. If he didn’t utilize his ‘fuck pad,’ I would have believed he had done the same thing to keep his private residence under wraps. Unfortunately, his apartment on Hyde was more than an elaborate ruse.

  “If Kirill agrees to meet with me in a public location, I could place a wireless tracker on him.”

  Isaac’s commanding stature says he isn’t pleased with my attempts to bargain with him, but he’s not totally opposed to the idea. “And that’s it? You’re done with this case?”

  Now I’m the one pulling the faces. “I’d like to be there when they extract Katie—”

  “No.” Isaac commences dragging me down the corridor. “You almost had me on my crew in my location, but I’m not willing to bend this far. I agreed for you to pursue your career because it was being done at Ravenshoe PD under Ryan’s watch. This extends past the parameter I cast for you.”

  Anger works itself up from my gut to my mouth before it’s purged with snapped words. “The parameter you cast? I’m a detective, Isaac—”

  “In a town I own! Nothing will happen to you here without me knowing about it first.”

  I’d laugh if he weren’t serious. He truly thinks he’s one step ahead of everyone.

  He probably is.

  Desperate to help in some way, I give in to Isaac’s demeaning, dominating personality. “Fine.” My arm almost pops out of its socket when I remove it from Isaac’s rigid grip. “I won’t be a part of the sting if our ruse to unearth Kirill’s real location works.”

  He looks smug. He shouldn’t. My agreement is going to cost him dearly.

  “But…” I leave him hanging to build the suspense. “I want you to double your annual donation to Ravenshoe PD this year.”

  “Done.”

  “I’m not finished yet.” Although pleased by his generosity, I’m still irked by his earlier comment about having me contained in an Isaac-approved radius. “You need to cast your net further. Trust is about more than love, Isaac. It’s trusting me to take care of myself. Trusting I would never put you in the situation Ophelia did.” It’s low of me to bring Ophelia into our conversation, but I’m that desperate. “And trusting the intuition that’s defended you time and time again when things looked horrific is right again this time around.”

  I step closer to him, craving his closeness while also wishing I could erase the worry I placed in his eyes. “I told you from the beginning Enrique wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. You didn’t believe me. Even now, while he’s risking his freedom for a woman he’s never met, you’re still looking at him like he’s the enemy.”

  Anger works up from his stomach to his face. “Because he drugged and kidnapped you—”

  “And kept Callie and Katarina safe until her sale could be processed.”

  The furious tick impinging Isaac’s jaw exposes he isn’t happy I’m fighting back, in public of all places, but since I’m clothed, there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

  “I don’t negotiate when it comes to your safety,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

  “You don’t negotiate with members of your staff. Lucky for me, I’m not one of them. I am your wife.” I wiggle my ring finger in the air, sending rainbow hues dancing across his rigidly stern face. “Which frees me to say I’m going to be a part of this operation no matter what. So either jump on board and direct this train in the right direction or watch from the sidelines and pray it doesn’t derail.”

  With that, I pivot on my heels and stalk down the corridor.

  Shockingly, Isaac lets me go.

  22

  Isabelle

  Friends can become strangers too.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, I’m being wired up for a one-on-one interview with Kirill by Brandon, of all people. Isaac’s bend in the rules hasn’t come cheaply. His sexual proficiencies have always been outstanding, but they excelled to never-before-reached levels the past two weeks.

  Instead of punishing me for being disobedient, Isaac took it out on my body, the object usually responsible for my submissiveness. He fucked me hard—multiple times. His determination to break me revealed I’ve grown stronger in some ways and weaker in others.

  Physically, I’m at a summit I’ve never reached before, but the weaker side of me—the emotional part that can’t separate work from my personal life—is dragging down its tougher counterpart.

  Like many law enforcement officers’ spouses, Isaac is struggling with the concept that I can be both a wife and a law enforcer. He’s always been protective of me, sometimes to the point where it’s suffocating.

  It hurts that he doesn’t trust my ability to protect myself, even though I also understand. It’s his instinct to protect those he cares about. I love him for that, but my god, it’s exhausting. It robs me of the ability to think for myself and to make clear, confident decisions.

  I’m so exhausted, I’ve placed Brandon’s snappy attitude on the backburner the past two hours. I thought he was frustrated because he’s also concerned I’m putting myself in Kirill’s radar, but the number of times he’s sneered at me while glancing down at my wedding ring exposes that isn’t the case. His features are as hard as Isaac’s were when I said we had to delay publicly announcing our wedding until after I’ve met with Kirill. My muscles ached for days after that confession.

  “Have you been hanging out with the Rogers too long? Do you need an emergency crotch transplant?” I anticipate getting at least a smirk for my witty comment, but I get nothing close to that. “What’s the go, Brandon? You’ve changed so much, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

  “You have to know someone before you can fake an interest in a change in their personality.” He finishes fiddling with a button camera on my blouse before checking with a second agent if it’s receiving a signal, acting as if his murmured comment didn’t slice through the thin thread holding me together.

  “I know you…” My words trail off when I realize my error. “I knew you. Once.”

  Brandon’s laugh is vindictive and underhanded—nothing like the man I once knew. “You’re so blinded by the narcissistic asshole you married, you wouldn’t know an honest, reliable person if they were standing right in front of you.” His words sting more than any slap ever could. They bruise my ego and flush my face with anger, but they won’t stop me from retaliating.

  “The man I love isn’t close to the person you’re portraying.” Although my words are only whispered roars, they still gain us the eyes of the agents surrounding us.

  “Excessive need for admiration. Disregard for others’ feelings, incapable of handling criticism, and a sense of entitlement.” Brandon ticks off each item with his fingers. “If Isaac Holt isn’t a narcissist, you’re not just the bimbo Alex brought in to net Isaac, you are a bimbo.”

  It’s the fight of my life not to slap him across the face. The only reason I don’t is because I guarantee my hand wouldn’t be the only one his face would feel today. Alex is glaring at him as fiercely as Isaac does any time they’re in the same room.

  If rumors are true, the fistfight Grayson and Alex got into two weeks ago wasn’t just from Grayson’s failure to advise Alex Enrique had been an informant for the Bureau the past six years. It was also from requesting Brandon to join his division, citing his computer skills as the reason for overturning
Alex’s recommendation for Brandon to be discharged from the Bureau.

  Obviously, the last few months have been tough on Brandon, but not all the burden should be placed on my shoulders. Some of it belongs on his.

  “You have no right to act all high and mighty. You defended the man who raped your high school sweetheart all to save your family’s prestigious reputation.” I articulate my last two words with a sneer Clara would be proud of.

  “I did that for Melody.”

  I roll my eyes, my immaturity feeding off my tiredness. “Oh, please. You were a key witness for the defense—”

  “Because it was the only way I could get on the stand! It was the only way I could support Melody!” His roar startles my heart out of my chest, but not as much as what he says next. “Why do you think she prosecuted Madden after all this time? Do you think she woke up a decade later with the sudden urge to seek justice? I helped her get there. I supported her through it. Just like I lost my family during the process. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, Izzy? Because you’re so fucking blind to anyone who isn’t Isaac Holt, you can’t see two feet in front of you.”

  I try to speak, to deny his claims, but I can’t. Everything he said is true. I am blinded by Isaac. When he’s in my presence, time stands still. Minutes could be hours, and I wouldn’t know because time doesn’t exist when we’re together. It’s just him and me.

  But, in saying that, Isaac doesn’t deserve Brandon’s anger. If he’s angry I fell in love with someone who isn’t him, that’s an issue he needs to work through.

  When I say that to Brandon, his laugh is the cruelest I’ve heard. “Of course, the blame for Isaac’s neurotic, narcissistic tenancies would have to be reflected at me because, god forbid, the wonder that is Isaac Holt wouldn’t have any idiosyncrasies that couldn’t be palmed off to an unsuspecting target.”