The Final Chapter: Enigma, #4 Page 3

  The weight on my chest increases. I said earlier I'd do anything to keep Isabelle safe, so shouldn’t that include acquiring the assistance of my arch-nemesis if it guarantees she's returned to me uninjured?

  I drift my eyes to Regan. “Regan is here. I’ll call him.”

  Brandon exhales a large puff of air.

  “Brandon.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for your help. Please keep me updated on Hugo.” My words come out scratchy and strained.

  “I will.”

  When he disconnects our call, my eyes lift to Regan. Her face is pale, and her eyes are plagued with red rims. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait?” My tone is clipped as fear takes hold. “They’ve taken Isabelle.”

  Regan clutches her neck before briskly nodding.

  “I need you to call Alex and request his assistance.”

  Her pupils widen as she swallows harshly.

  “Brandon said you’re the best person to ask for his help. I don’t know what your history is with him, and at the moment, I don’t fucking care. My only concern is getting Isabelle home, so I need you to do this for me, Regan.” My tone is stern but still apologetic for the fretfulness slipped over her usual take-no- shit-from-no-one face.

  She licks her lips. “Okay.”

  She removes her cell phone from the pocket of her shimmery black trousers as I hit the speed dial for Jae. Several heart-clenching seconds pass before she answers. “Hey, doll face, how are you?”

  My lips twitch as they suppress a smirk from her playful quip. Jae has always called me ‘doll face’ as she swears I'm the spitting image of a male model she lusted over when she was a teenager. His face was plastered on the cover of an Australian magazine called Dolly, hence the doll reference.

  “Hugo’s been shot.”

  Regan and Hunter’s eyes snap to mine in sync.

  “The paramedics have been instructed to take him to your hospital. His ETA should be around…” I stop talking and check my watch. It’s late afternoon, so rush hour is at its peak. “Ten minutes… maybe fifteen.”

  “Do you have any further details. Injuries? Where he was shot?”

  “I relayed to you everything I know.”

  She sighs. “I’ll get the OR prepped and on standby,” she advises as the sound of her tiny feet padding along a tiled floor come down the line.

  I gulp in a big breath. “Jae, Hugo is like family to me—”

  “I know, Isaac. He’ll have the best surgeons in the country looking after him. He’ll be well taken care of.”

  “Thank you.” I disconnect our call and place my phone into my pocket, hiding my shaking hands. When I spot Regan’s tear-filled eyes, my anger gets the better of me. “Not now, Regan. We need to keep it together until we bring Isabelle home. Jae will look after Hugo.”

  Her lips quiver as she nods.

  “Did you get ahold of Alex?”

  She shakes her head. “He isn’t answering his phone, but I know where to find him.”

  Five minutes later, Hunter and I follow Regan into the building Hugo used to collect Isabelle from every evening. The hum of activity simmers to a flurry of whispers and gawking stares when I step inside the foyer. The agents’ shock at seeing the man they have been surveilling from a distance up close and personal is marked all over their faces.

  Regan shimmies her shoulders and exhales sharply before she walks toward a glass office in the corner of the room. Alex is standing with his back turned to us, peering out a large window behind his desk. When he senses the awkwardness suffocating the air, he swivels around. His lips curl into a wide, egotistical smile when he notices Regan sauntering toward him, but it switches to a snarl when he spots Hunter and me.

  Regan walks into his office, not waiting to be invited in. “Alex Rogers, this is Isaac Holt and Hunter Kane,” she introduces, gesturing her hand between Alex, Hunter, and me.

  Alex’s top lip twitches as he glares at Regan. “I thought you didn’t know Isaac Holt.”

  Regan scoffs. “I said I didn’t know him sexually.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “You, like always, chose only to hear the words you want to hear.”

  Any reply Alex is formulating is cut off by my furious glare. “You can finish your lovers’ quarrel later. We have more pressing issues to address.” I shift my gaze to Alex. “Isabelle was kidnapped this afternoon.” He stiffens, and his eyes widen, but he remains quiet. “We have an image of the assailant, but we’ve been unable to identify him using the police facial recognition software.” He doesn’t appear the slightest bit fazed by my admission that we're utilizing police resources illegally. “Brandon suggested I contact you. He said you have access to better facial recognition scanning software.”

  Alex curses under his breath as he runs his hand over his head. “For Isabelle, I’ll call it a truce, but once she's safe, all bets are off.”

  Confusion crosses his features when I thrust my hand out in offering. “Deal.”

  After we seal our agreement with a handshake, Alex gestures his head to his desk. “There's a secure port behind the filing cabinet.”

  Hunter nods and places his laptop on the desk a mere second before his brows scrunch. “If I connect to the FBI’s server, it could leave your security vulnerable to infiltration. If they get in, I may never get them back out.”

  I shrug. “Let them have it. I have nothing to hide.” I ensured anything incriminating on my servers were wiped clean the morning after my arrest.

  Regan touches my forearm. “What about Hugo?”

  Shit! I’ve been guarding Hugo’s secret for years, but if the FBI gains access to his personal records, I will no longer be able to guarantee his safety. He’d be once again defenseless to the wolves gunning for his blood.

  Regan crosses her arms in front of her chest before turning her gaze to Alex. “Promise me your department will not access anything on Isaac’s servers today, and I’ll forgive you for exploiting me.”

  Alex balks. “I didn’t exploit you, Regan.”

  Tears glisten in Regan’s eyes, but she maintains a confident composure. As Alex’s narrowed gaze shifts between Regan and me, he runs his hand over his head, something he always seems to do when nervous. After several painful seconds, he drifts his eyes to Hunter. “Send the photo to the email address on the card.” He hands him an officially embossed FBI business card. “The FBI servers automatically upload all content on any devices plugged into their mainframe, so I’ll use my computer to access the image.”

  Hunter snags the card out of his hand and fires up his laptop.

  “Thank you,” Regan whispers faintly.

  In the corner of my eye, I see Alex step closer to her. His face is hard-lined, but his eyes are shimmering with silent apologies. Regan shakes her head and paces to the other side of the room, her thighs shaking with every step. When she uses me as a protective shield between them, the twitch in Alex’s top lip amplifies before he storms around his desk to sit in a large leather chair.

  “Done,” Hunter informs us, straying his eyes from his laptop to Alex.

  My heart beats in an unnatural rhythm when I take in the time on the antique clock on the wall. Isabelle was taken nearly an hour ago. “We need to hurry before it’s too late.”

  “Move.” Hunter nudges Alex in the shoulder. “Your two-finger typing is too fucking slow. We’ll be here all night at this rate.”

  Alex snarls but moves out of the chair as requested. Hunter’s fingers wildly fly over the keyboard. His face is scrunched up, and his lips are pursed, but he's in his element. There's no better hacker or computer programmer in the world than the man seated in front of me.

  Hunter’s eyes shoot to me. “You need to donate some money to the local police department so they can get this software installed.”

  I smirk and nod. In my current state, I'd agree to anything.

  Hunter’s eyes return to mine when my untraceable cell rings in my pocket. I flip open the screen a
nd press my phone to my ear.

  “Col is moving.” Tallis’s usually thick timbre is barely audible. “He requested for his driver to take him to a warehouse on the corner of Henter and Joyce at—”

  “Harbortown.”

  “Yes. I have to go.” He disconnects our call as a thick Italian accent sounds down the line.

  I gesture with my head for Hunter to join me at the side of the room. He scoots past Alex and stands in front of me, scrubbing his thick beard.

  “I know where he’s taken Isabelle.”

  His brows scrunch. “Where?”

  “The warehouse at Harbortown.” I don’t need to say any more. From the way his pupils widen, I know he understands.

  “I’ll call in Roger and Peters.” He glances down at his watch. “I could get a few more guys there, but they're an hour away.”

  “No men. He’ll kill Isabelle before they even step foot inside the warehouse,” I respond, fear heard in my voice. “Call Tallis and advise him it’s time to move. If he doesn’t answer, send some guys in and get him out.”

  Hunter nods. Tallis is a man I put inside Col’s operation two years ago. That saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ was the premise for me putting Tallis undercover. I knew one day Col’s quest for revenge would inevitably happen. I just never figured I'd have someone significant in my life he could seek his vengeance on instead of me.

  As Alex’s blue eyes flick between Regan, Hunter, and me, he yanks open the top drawer of his desk and removes his FBI-issued revolver and spare chamber. After snagging his jacket off the coat rack in his office, he moves to stand between Hunter and me. “Isabelle is still an FBI agent. We protect our own.” His tone indicates his statement isn’t up for discussion. “I know this man. I know how he operates. I’ve been working on his case since I was a rookie.”

  “Then you know Col orchestrated this because he wants me, so if anyone but me enters that warehouse, he will kill Isabelle.”

  The pain in my chest amplifies.

  “I know that,” Alex interrupts. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have backup waiting in the wings in case things don’t go according to plan.”

  I stare into his eyes, contemplating a response. I’ve always been a man who takes care of myself. I have a dedicated team of security, but they're to ensure my staff and family are safe while keeping my empire away from the prying eyes of strangers, but this is different. Typically, I'm only protecting myself, whereas now, I also have Isabelle to protect.

  Col never goes anywhere without his heavily-weaponed right-hand man, let alone the fact he may still have Isabelle’s two kidnappers to aid in seeking his revenge. I know Henry and his team have pledged their support, but by the time they make it here, it may be too late.

  But can I do this? Can I trust putting Isabelle’s safety into the hands of another man?

  Can I relinquish my vital necessity to protect her to another?

  Although my ego takes a hit admitting it, yes, I can. I’ll use every tactic I can to ensure Isabelle is safe, even using the antagonist standing across from me.

  “He has Isabelle at a warehouse in Harbortown. You can follow me there.”

  I may accept Alex’s assistance, but that doesn’t mean I'm a foolish man. I can’t guarantee he wouldn’t arrest me the instant I advised him of Isabelle’s location. By requiring him to follow me, it means I'll still be the first man on site.

  I shift my focus to Hunter. “Get Tallis out and call Ryan. Tell him we're going back to where it all began.”

  Alex follows me out of his office, barking orders at a handful of agents milling around the confined space. I don’t hear any of the words he's saying. My sole focus is on reaching Isabelle before Col hurts her.

  Just as my foot enters my Bugatti, I glance at Alex. “Get in. This will be quicker than the piece of shit you’ve been tailing me in the past few weeks.”

  He stiffens, surprised I knew he was tailing me. I’ve known for weeks, but I figured if he wanted to waste his personal time surveilling me, he could because the more attention he focuses on me, the less heat on Hugo and my team.

  After dipping his chin in farewell to Regan, Alex slides into the passenger seat of my car. Nothing but the smell of burning rubber lingers in the air from my heavy compression on the accelerator.

  It’s time to lay my cards on the table.

  Line up all my ducks in a row.

  It’s time to play my most lethal hand.

  Chapter 4

  Isabelle

  This time, when I blink my eyes, the sun is no longer shining through any cracks in the black plastic. No skyline is visible. My head is thumping ten times worse, and the urge to vomit is so overwhelming, I dry-heave through the thick material stuffed in my mouth. I attempt to move my arms, wanting to rub away my blurred vision, but my efforts are futile since my wrists are tied behind my back.

  Dropping my blurred vision to the polished concrete ground, I discover my ankles are bound with the rope I tripped over earlier in the office. After blinking numerous times, my dry eyes scan the area. I’m no longer in an office but in an industrial-looking building, similar to the warehouse Isaac owns in Hopeton. There’s a black boxing ring with stadium chairs surrounding three sides of it. It appears to be a professional fighting club, except there's no sponsorship promotional material or signage like you’d usually see in a professional fight circuit.

  Dread washes over me. This must be Col Petretti’s underground fighting circle.

  I soundlessly squeal when something cool brushes my shoulder. My pupils widen when my eyes lock in on a gentleman standing next to me. Even though my vision remains clouded, there's no mistaking he’s the man I saw at the gala two weeks ago. The same man I swore to Isaac wouldn’t harm me as I trusted my intuition.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  He crouches down in front of me. “If you squeal, the gag will have to go back in.” His tone is firm but not threatening. “Got it?”

  Unable to speak through a severe case of cotton-mouth, I nod. My tongue darts out to lick my parched lips the instant the gag is removed. While I bring some fluid to my throat with quick swallows, he is unscrewing the cap of a water bottle. Once the lid has been removed, he lifts it to my mouth and tilts it back. An appreciative gasp expels from my lips. The refreshing coolness of the water trickling down my scorching dry throat is a godsend.

  “Slow down, your gulps or your swirling stomach won’t hold in the water. You don’t want to vomit while having a gag in your mouth, or you’ll run the risk of choking.” Although his voice is super throaty, his words are more soothing than intimidating.

  Once half of the bottle has mollified the dryness impinging my throat, I pull away.

  “Enough?”

  When I nod, he screws the lid back on, then stores the bottle next to my shoeless feet.

  I flinch when his hand returns to my face. “I won’t hurt you.”

  He wipes away the water that spilled from my mouth during my greedy gulps. When he’s finished, he dabs his thumb under my eyes that are likely stained with black mascara streaks.

  “Please let me go,” I beg, realizing his actions are exposing a side most men have but refuse to acknowledge—their nurturing instincts.

  After removing the marks under my eyes, his dark, dangerous gaze locks with mine. “I can’t let you go. Without you, I won’t get any of the answers I’ve been searching for.”

  “I can’t help answer any of your questions. I don’t know anything.”

  When he moves to a table at my side, his large frame becomes fully exposed. Compared to the last time I saw him, he's more casually dressed, wearing dark denim jeans and a long-sleeve Henley shirt that showcases his well-formed, muscular physique. My breath snags when my eyes zoom in on a semi-automatic weapon and a Glock sitting on top of the table he's standing next to.

  “You’re not the one answering my questions, Isabelle.” He snatches the semi-automatic weapon off the tab
le and houses it in the back of his jeans. “He will be.”

  Anxiety makes itself known with my gut, but before a word can spill from my mouth, a heavily accented voice sounds from across the room.

  My assailant rushes toward me to stuff the gag back into my mouth. “Be quiet and follow my lead. Doing that is the only way you're assured of leaving this building still breathing.”

  Not waiting for me to reply, my attacker stands behind me as the shuffling of his feet drum along with my pulse.

  “He is to stay outside. The deal was only you. Him being here was not the terms of the negotiation we agreed upon,” says the kidnapper. “If you wish to cancel our agreement, I’ll move Isabelle on to the next highest bidder. A woman of her caliber is highly sought after in this industry.”

  Fear straightens my spine as my frenzied eyes dart side to side, frantically trying to see who has once again purchased me. Due to my poor position, all I can see is the shadow of three men reflecting off the office window.

  “Mario, wait outside,” instructs a deep, accented voice.

  An uncomfortable length of silence passes, the only noise heard is the wild beat of my heart and someone’s stomping steps.

  I snap my eyes shut and suck in a big breath, vainly trying to quell the anxiety thickening my veins. When I flutter them back open, my breath snags and my pupils dilate. There, standing before me is one of the men I fear the most.

  Col Petretti.

  “Hello again, angel.”

  My teeth grit the material in my mouth when he squats down in front of me to glide his hand down my face. If my feet and hands weren’t bound, I would kick and fight with all my might to get away from one of the most ruthless men I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But since I'm tied to a chair, I angrily snarl at him instead before cranking my head to the side, denying his touch.

  “Such a spark of feistiness,” he remarks with a broad grin carved on his abhorrent face. “Just like your mother.”

  My breathing stills as my eyes snap back to his. I’m unaware he knew my mother. His grin grows conceited when he notices my confused expression. He grips my chin painfully before lifting my head into the air. His beastly eyes roam over me like he's studying the clarity of a rare black diamond instead of a tear-stained face.