Unraveling an Enigma Read online

  The undeniable connection teeming between Isaac and me doesn’t render Alex speechless like me. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what evidence I have on you?”

  Isaac’s lips crimp before he shakes his head. “You don’t have any evidence on me as I always ensure my hands are thoroughly cleaned.”

  Even though Alex only groans for a nanosecond, it's long enough for Isaac to hear. He smiles, the twist of his lips cruel. When he heads for the door I'm standing next to, instinctively, my hand shoots out to seize his wrist. I have no clue what I'm planning to say. I just know I can't let him go without saying something.

  Before a syllable can escape my lips, I'm interrupted by Alex. “I strongly suggest you don’t leave town, Mr. Holt.”

  Anger beams out of Isaac, however, it has nothing on the hurt in his tone when he replies, “This is my town. If anyone is leaving, it won’t be me.”

  With that, he exits the interrogation room, not once glancing back at me.

  Chapter 3

  Isabelle

  Goosebumps form on my neck when a frigid breeze blasts through my jacket. After adjusting my satchel, I continue weaving through the dense foot traffic. Although the torrential downpour has thinned the usually jam-packed sidewalks, there are still a lot of people scampering by. Most, unlike me, packed an umbrella when rain was forecast this morning. Since my morning was spent in an Isaac Holt lust phase, the weather was the last thing on my mind when I left my apartment.

  Mere hours ago, Hugo advised me to wait under the awning of my building if it was raining. So much has happened since then. It honestly feels as if weeks have passed, not hours. When Isaac left without any formal charges being pressed, Alex was furious. He was the maddest I’d ever seen him. Although his anger was off-putting, nothing could leash my curiosity on discovering what was in the envelope. Alex was convinced he had a credible reason to arrest Isaac, and the evidence he had was sitting mere inches from me. The temptation was too great. I had to sneak a peek.

  The envelope was barely in my hot little hand for a second before Alex snatched it from my grasp, then stormed out of the interrogation room. With tension high, I spent the afternoon hiding in the supply closet. None of my fellow agents uttered a word to me, but their questioning looks were enough to have me laying low.

  Although my career should have been at the forefront of my mind, it wasn't. Isaac was. I tried his cell numerous times the past two hours. All attempts to reach him were thwarted. My calls went straight to voicemail, and my text messages were unanswered.

  Apparently delusional, I waited under the awning for Hugo for thirty minutes this evening before the fog in my head cleared. I’d become so accustomed to him collecting me every night, it became the norm, so it took longer than I’d care to admit for me to register that he’d no longer be picking me up.

  By the time I walk into my apartment building, I'm soaking wet from the tips of my hair to my nearly snap-frozen toes. I'm beyond freezing, but it’s nothing compared to the iciness surrounding my heart. In some ways, the downpour was a godsend. The people rushing past me to enjoy their weekend were unaware not all the dampness on my cheeks was rain. I held back my tears for as long as I could, but now that they’re flowing, I’ll have no chance in hell of reeling them back in.

  A fresh batch of tears stings my eyes when I stagger through the front door of my apartment. A man with an aura like Isaac permeates the air, clinging to the environment hours after he’s left. I can still smell him throughout my apartment.

  My hurried strides to the bathroom stop when I spot the rumpled sheets on my bed. Only twelve hours ago, I was in that bed telling Isaac I loved him. I do love him. I love him more than words will ever explain. That’s why I have to make this right. He needs to know I didn’t do anything wrong, and that I’ll support him through this.

  I rush into the bathroom to take one of the quickest showers I’ve ever had. When the scorching hot water hits my toes, they burn from the sudden change in temperature. Once I’m donning a fresh set of clothes and dry shoes, I sprint out of my apartment, grabbing my umbrella from the entryway closet on the way by. Because it's a Friday night, it takes a lot longer than usual to wrangle a cab.

  By the time the taxi pulls into the driveway at Isaac’s private residence, it's a little after nine o’clock.

  “Thank you.” I hand the driver my credit card to pay the exorbitant fare.

  Once he drives away, I jab my shaky finger into the intercom button on the wrought iron security box. Several long, tedious minutes pass with my call remaining unanswered. Assuming Isaac isn’t home, I head back to the road while yanking my cell out of my pocket. If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve asked the cab driver to wait. Alas, my mind is nothing but a blurred mess of confusion tonight.

  Another twenty minutes pass before headlights beam down the eerily black, isolated road. While sheltering my eyes from the blinding light, I pace toward the vehicle that has come to a stop at the entrance of the driveway. My quick strides halt when I realize it's Isaac’s black Mercedes-Benz town car, not the taxi I was expecting.

  Seconds feel like minutes when the driver’s side window slowly glides down. My normal heart rhythm returns when Hugo’s apprehensive eyes peek past the tint. “It’s not a good time, Izzy.”

  “I know, but I need to see him.” My voice is barely a whisper since it’s full of shame. “I have to explain—”

  “You have a lot of explaining to do, but believe me, now is not the time.”

  I take a step back, shocked. This is the first time Hugo has been anything but friendly. Although his angry tone stabs my heart with fresh wounds, nothing can leash my campaign. “Please, Hugo. I’ll get down on my hands and knees if I have to.”

  I’ll do anything to see Isaac again, to articulate my side of the story. Once Isaac realizes I was defending him, he might be open to the possibility of forgiving me. “I never meant to hurt him. That was never my intention. I love him, Hugo.”

  Hugo exhales harshly while scrubbing the scruff on his chin. After taking in my watering, pleading eyes, he punches the security code into the black box with force. My heart drums my ribcage more with every creak the gate makes as it slowly opens.

  Once the gate is opened, Hugo leans over to open the front passenger door. With my heart in my throat, I slide into his car without a peep oozing from my lips. The driveway leading to Isaac’s private property has always been impressive, but it feels so much longer when awkward tension is firing in the air. Although Hugo doesn’t say anything, the unease bouncing off him is disgusting. It stifles the air of oxygen, making not just my insides a mucky mess but my skin as well.

  When we come to a stop outside the front stairs, I curl my hand around the door latch. I'm just about to fling open my door when Hugo hits the central locking button, trapping me in the car. With furrowed brows, my eyes stray to him. Now is not the time for jokes.

  I realize I have the situation all wrong when he asks, “Are you carrying a weapon?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’d never… I don’t… I’m not here officially.”

  I'd never come to Isaac’s house on work-related matters. I'm only here for personal reasons.

  “I was asking for safety reasons, Izzy.” Hugo’s voice is raspy and jam-packed with emotion. “I’ve never seen Isaac like this before. I honestly don’t know how he’ll react when he sees you.”

  I grit my teeth, battling not to sob. I hate that they did this to him—I did this to him.

  I’m still lost as to everything that is happening, so I can imagine how bewildered Isaac is. It feels like I’m trapped in a horrible nightmare. I'd give anything to wake up and start this day anew. My rendition of Groundhog Day would be perfect right now.

  After reading the truth from my eyes, Hugo unlocks the doors. I suck in a big breath to calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach before clambering out of the car and climbing the stairs of Isaac’s residence.

  My eyes snap to Hugo whe
n we break through the large glass door. Torn cushions, ripped paintings, upended furniture, and broken ornaments cover nearly every surface from the entryway and living room. “What happened?”

  Hugo joins me at the side of the trashed living room. “The two hours they had Isaac in the interrogation room, they did an in-depth search of his property.” He shakes his head, his cheeks reddening. “No room was left untouched.”

  The photographs that once adorned Isaac’s mantel are scattered on the floor along with shattered glass, the frames broken from being handled so roughly. The insides of the sofa cushions have been yanked out, leaving white fluff strewn over the beautiful woolen rug Isaac made love to me on. Not even his expensive white leather sofas were spared. They have knife gashes down the middle of them, reducing them to trash instead of the priceless antiques they once were.

  Noticing the direction of my gaze, Hugo murmurs, “You never know what someone might be hiding inside a couch.”

  I pace out of the living room when a light switching on down the hallway attracts my attention. My heart beats triple-time when I walk the hallway Isaac has carried me down many times the past month. Every step I take adds to the queasiness swirling in my stomach. The beautiful paintings that once graced the walls have been removed. Some are untouched. Others are so severely damaged, they're beyond repair.

  When I round the corner, I halt, my heart squeezing. Isaac is in his office. He's still wearing the suit he was arrested in, but he’s removed his jacket, vest, and tie, and his crisp blue business shirt is rolled up to his elbows. I can only see the glass of whiskey in his hand since he’s facing the window that overlooks the manicured gardens below. His stature still commands attention, but his slumped shoulders and low-hanging head exposes his defeat.

  After rolling my shoulders, I enter his office, stepping over first-edition books and months of paperwork scattered across the floor. I’m barely halfway across the room when Isaac senses my presence. As he shifts on his feet to face me, the anxious expression on his face morphs to fury. He’s blackened with rage.

  Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he storms my way. My first thought is to flee, but as quickly as that idea transpired, it vanishes. Running won’t fix anything. I made a mistake, and I’m big enough to admit that.

  Hugo places himself between Isaac and me. “Give her a chance to explain.”

  My heart launches into my throat when Isaac shoves him aside. He sails across the room as if he is weightless, landing on his backside with an almighty thump. I scamper backward, only stopping when I’m pinned between Isaac’s imposing frame and the bookshelves lining his office. Although my body is shuddering with anxiety, excitement is still coursing through my veins. My inner vixen doesn’t care how angry Isaac is. All she cares about is his closeness.

  When Hugo leaps back onto his feet, I signal for him to stand down. I created this mess, so I need to fix it. Hugo stops his aggressive charge, but he watches us closely with his fists clenching open and closed. Isaac won’t hurt me, but I don’t see that being the same for anyone who dares to come between us.

  Isaac’s hot, heavy breaths blast my overheated cheeks with more warmth as he glares down at me in disdain. He must have consumed a substantial amount of alcohol since he left the Ravenshoe PD because not only is his breath riddled with whiskey, alcohol is seeping from his pores, suffocating his alluring scent.

  I swallow, hoping a bit of moisture will help free my words from my mouth. It does—somewhat. “I didn’t tell them anything—”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No.” I shake my head, nearly sending tears toppling down my cheeks. “I never shared anything about you. I’ll defend you before I ever prosecute you.”

  Isaac chuckles, a scary, menacing laugh. “You’ll defend me?” When I nod, he throws his hand around his barely recognizable office. “Is this defending me?”

  “This wasn’t me. I was at the police department with you the entire time. I never left your side. I didn’t even know they’d been granted a search warrant.”

  “Stop lying, Isabelle.” His roar startles me so much, my jump nearly spills the moisture pooling in my eyes. “Don’t you dare cry. You have no right to cry.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep my tears at bay. Isaac hates when I cry, and he doesn’t need more hurt added to the already bursting-at-the-seams pain in his beautiful eyes.

  Confident I have everything under control, Isaac continues to interrogate me. “No one knows this place exists except Hugo and you.” His narrowed gaze flicks to Hugo, who’s watching our exchange with cautious, wide eyes. “It isn’t even registered in my name because I wanted to ensure something like this would never happen. So, either you or Hugo told the authorities about it. Hugo has been with me for years. You’ve only been in the picture the past six months—around the same time my empire was placed under the spotlight.”

  “It wasn’t me.” My knees feel like they’re going to fall out from beneath me when he glares at me, but it doesn’t stop me saying, “Maybe the surveillance team followed you here one day, or…” I stop mid-sentence, incapable of finding a reasonable explanation as to how the authorities learned about his private residence. “I don’t know who it was, but it wasn’t me.”

  Isaac smirks a wickedly evil grin. It doesn’t make my knees pull together. If anything, it has the opposite effect. I’m more unnerved now than I was when I had my gun pressed against his chest.

  When he steps back, I gulp down a big breath, grateful I can fill my lungs with air again. It’s forced back out in a hurry when he slings his eyes to Hugo and says, “You're fired.”

  What? “Isaac, no. I’m not saying it was Hugo. I’m just saying it wasn’t me.”

  My pulse quickens from the sheer closeness of his handsome face when he turns back to face me. “You've declared it wasn’t you, so either Hugo told them I lived here, or the surveillance team followed him here. Unless you’re willing to recant your confession, Hugo is fired.”

  When my lips twitch, Hugo shakes his head, advising me not to fall into Isaac’s trap. Although I hate lying, I can’t let Hugo take the blame for this. With everything going on, Isaac needs someone like Hugo in his corner.

  Before I lose the nerve, I murmur, “It was me.”

  My eyes stray to the ground, needing to look at anything but Isaac. If he sees my eyes, he’ll know I’m lying. They’re the gateway to my soul.

  “Look at me, Isabelle.” The anger beaming out of him fans the hairs stuck to my temples when I keep my eyes planted on a pile of crumpled papers to the left of his desk. He’s furious I’m ignoring him, but not as much as I’m angry at myself when he sneers, “Get out of my house before I show you just how unlawful I can be.”

  He pulls away so viciously, hot air blasts my already overheated face. He strides to a bar on our right to refill his glass with whiskey. Once it sloshes over the rim, he returns to his original position by the window. I watch him in silence, begging for him to look back at me just once. He does no such thing. He's so angry he can't stand the sight of me. When an arm unexpectedly curls around my shoulders, I jump out of my skin. “Sorry.”

  Hugo spins me around before guiding me down the hallway we walked only minutes ago. It breaks my heart walking away from Isaac, but I’m not sure what else I can do. Today has been such a clusterfuck of emotions, I’m surprised I’m still standing.

  Halfway down the hall, glass being smashed sounds out of Isaac’s office. I stop dead in my tracks, a cold chill running down my spine. When I attempt to pivot around, Hugo maintains his firm clutch on my shoulders. “He needs time, Izzy. You both need time.”

  By the time we reach Isaac’s town car, shock has truly set in. My heart sits heavy in my stomach as everything around me blurs. During our drive back to Ravenshoe, I keep my gaze planted on the gloomy sky. There's not a single star in heaven tonight—even it can feel the darkness wreaking havoc with my stomach.

  After pulling into the curb at
the front of my apartment building, Hugo drifts his eyes to me. They’re full of apprehension and remorse. “You shouldn’t have lied.”

  “Who said I did?”

  He huffs. “Come on, don’t treat me like an idiot. I know you lied.” His tone is a cross between angry and confused. “I just don’t understand why. Isaac will never forgive you if he thinks you deceived him.”

  Tears burn my eyes. “I did deceive him. I may not have told the Bureau about his house, but I did deceive him. I’ve been lying to him for months.”

  Not allowing Hugo to deliver one of the many replies I see in his eyes, I scramble out of his car, then dash for my building as quickly as my quivering legs will take me.

  Chapter 4

  Isaac

  As I bend down to gather my shattered whiskey glass from the floor, my mind drifts back to my exchange with Isabelle. I’ll admit I handled the situation poorly, but I’ve been pushed to my absolute limits today. I’m also drunk, so the brunt of my fury was handed to a woman not deserving of all my anger. It is excusable, though. My home, my private residence, the one thing that’s solely for me, has been trashed beyond recognition.

  Artwork I collected over the years is damaged beyond repair, antique furniture was hacked with box cutters, and priceless ornaments are chipped and broken, but even more concerning than that is the damage they did to items with a high sentimental value. I can’t replace those things. They’re irreplaceable. They didn’t need to conduct their search the way they did. Whoever did this wanted my attention. They have it now. I won’t stop until I find out who did this as I refuse to be blindsided for the second time.