the girl. In the meantime, I’ve dispatched someone to Tempest Cove to retrieve her once we hear back.”
“And you’ve not heard back from him yet?”
“No. Not yet. I suspect he’s meeting with her, as we speak.”
Meeting with her. In contact with her. I’ll kill the prick myself. “And you don’t happen to know where?”
“No. Unfortunately, I don’t.”
Rubbing a hand down my face, I inwardly groan. “Thank you for the update, Friedrich. I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Of course.”
I hang up the phone and dial Rand’s phone number, not even giving him the opportunity to greet me when he answers. “I need Mr. Goodman’s contact number. Now.”
“Yes, of course. Would you like me to get in touch with him?”
“No! I need the number now!”
As he rattles it off, I jot it down onto a sheet of paper from my desk, and as soon as I have it, I click out of the call.
I dial the number.
It rings and rings.
No answer.
I dial it again.
It rings and rings.
“Fuck!” Adrenaline courses through me, and I shoot out of my chair, scrolling through the apps on my phone. I click on the tracker app linked to Isa’s bracelet that I handed off to the investigator at the end of our meeting. The blinking dot skates along State Rd. like the asshole is in transit.
At the ding of the elevator, I lift my attention to Rand, who shuffles across the room, into my office. “You sounded distressed, Master. Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not fucking okay.” From my desk drawer, I lift the gun stored there and pop the magazine to find it packed with bullets. Stuffing the weapon into my pants, I swipe up my phone from the desk, watching his eyes widen. “Friedrich called. They’ve taken an interest in Isa.”
“Whatever for?”
“She’s apparently my sister-in-law. Go fucking figure.” I round the desk and stride toward the elevator. “How did our contact miss that little detail?”
“Her birth certificate didn’t list a father,” he says after me, when I pass. “Master, I’ll have Makaio fetch the car.”
“He’s welcome to follow me, but I need something faster.”
Chapter 61
Isadora
An earthy scent pervades my senses, until I can practically taste it on my tongue, as I blink out of the black void. A hard thump rattles me awake, and I open my eyes to the surrounding darkness of trees, beyond the halo that shines down from a floodlight overhead, the grit of dirt pressing into my cheek.
Confusion hangs like a thick cloud inside my head that’s throbbing with an intense ache. I squint my eyes against the pain and attempt to raise my hand, which doesn’t move. Stretched behind my back, both arms are bound together by a band of rope, or something, that bites into my wrists. Moving my legs proves equally impossible, and I stare down myself to find white nylon cord tied around my ankles.
Panic settles over me, my muscles cold and stiff.
Another thump reaches my ear from behind, and I twist over top of my bound arms to find Boyd slamming a shovel into the ground, the mound of dirt beside him telling of a hole he’s dug.
A scream cracks through my chest, and I squirm and tug at my arms to get loose. “Somebody! Somebody, help me!”
In the pause, Boyd raises the dirt-filled shovel on a grunt and tosses it onto the mound. “Scream as much as you want. No one can hear you out here.”
Another scream tears out of me, louder than before. And another. I scream for what feels like minutes, until my voice is hoarse and a cough sputters in my throat.
“Told you. No one can hear you.”
Still caught up in a spell, I turn into the ground, gasping for a breath. “Why … are you … doing this?”
He jabs the shovel into the earth and, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, wipes his arm across his forehead. “Tell me, Isa. Do you know anything about politics?” he asks, striding toward the trunk of his car. Popping it open, he peers inside for a moment, and swings his gaze toward me, as if he expects me to answer.
Instead, I remain silent.
“It’s the most intense game I’ve ever played in my life. A dirty match between you and the public. Every move dictates whether you ultimately win, or lose, and there is no room for error, because let’s face it, people are fucking unforgiving pricks.” He reaches into the trunk and hauls the private investigator up onto the edge of it. The sight of