idea. When she spots it, she slaps my arm. “Too early?”
“Not at all,” I assure with a laugh. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”
Now she’s the one cringing. She’s clearly not a fan of mornings. “Seven works. I can do seven.” I tell my cheeks to get with the fucking program when they burn from her childish peck. I know it’s been a while, but still, blushing like a naïve virgin is fucked. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for this, Brandon.”
After dragging her hand down my arm, Isabelle heads back into her apartment. While jabbing the call button on the elevator, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket. I almost call Phillipa while waiting for the elevator to arrive at Isabelle’s floor but decide against it when a blinking red contraption at the end of the hall gains my attention.
My kiss with Isabelle weeks ago proves Isaac is watching her, but this watch feels different. It feels even murkier than a man with strong ties to the cartel. It feels like pure evil, and it has me saving my call until I’m in the safety of my car and many miles away from Isabelle’s apartment building.
“I thought we agreed not to amend your report until the night before the gala?” I say when Phillipa answers my call, not bothering to issue a greeting. “I can’t keep Isabelle safe from a distance.”
“I haven’t touched my report. I went to the gym, then recouped the calories at a bakery like I do every Friday afternoon. By continuing with our routines, we’ll appear less suspicious,” she quotes, snickering.
She’s annoyed I wouldn’t let her fill Grayson’s shoes. I don’t know why I refused her request. Perhaps because I’m a little uneased by Grayson’s rare silence, or perhaps it’s because I didn’t want another witness to my horrendous dating skills.
“What’s with the interrogation, BJ? Did you go off script?”
Yes. “No. Isabelle agreed to go to the gala with me.”
The traffic noise heard through the Bluetooth speakers on my steering wheel is as noisy as the line of vehicles I’m weaving through. “Then what’s the issue?” My hesitation annoys Phillipa as much as it does me. “If agreeing to remain in the graveyard the rest of my career isn’t enough to gain your trust, BJ, I don’t know what else I can do.”
“I trust you.” When nothing but silence resonates down the line, I reiterate, “I do, I just…” I’ve got nothing, so I go with honesty instead. “I spotted a surveillance van in the alleyway outside of Isabelle’s apartment. It has government-issued tags.”
“Did you jot them down?”
The high pitch of her tone switches to a giggle when I ask, “Do you know me at all?”
A car horn honks, and Phillipa curses before her noisy breaths overtake the revs of her motor. “Hit me with them.” Seven seconds after I recite her the tags, she says, “The van belongs to the Bureau.”
“Can you tell me who it’s assigned to?”
The whooshing that sounds down the line has me picturing Phillipa shaking her head. “But I can probably get you a department…” Her words trail off to a groan. “It’s someone from Internal Affairs.” After a few seconds of silence, she adds, “Perhaps we should call this off? Wait until IA isn’t hot on Isabelle’s tail.”
“We can’t, Phillipa. The partial match of an account from the receipts Julian forwarded us is the only proof we have that Castro’s crew is still in operation. Someone from his empire was at the same function Melody attended last week. If we wait too long, they’ll find the real Melody before we direct them toward the fake one.”
She sighs, unhappy with my statement but aware we don’t have a choice. Phillipa’s report put a price on Melody’s head. Time isn’t in our favor. “When I get back to my apartment, I’ll update Julian’s security team, so they know the threat is credible.”
After humming out an agreement, I say, “While you do that, I’ll pack an overnight bag.”
With how quiet Phillipa is, I hear her brain ticking over. “You’re going away?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now! Are you crazy? Our team consists of three people. We need all of them on the ground, conducting around-the-clock surveillance.”
I’d laugh at the high pitch of her tone if she didn’t sound so serious. “I’m not going on a weekend getaway. Isabelle wants to take a closer look at Megan Shroud.”
“Shroud? As in Carlyle Shroud?” Nothing but unhinged excitement rings in Phillipa’s tone. When I murmur in agreement, she