Carlyle
Stretching my arms above my head, I arched back with a groan, and my spine popped as satisfaction surged through my veins. Shaking myself out, I rolled my head to crack my neck, and I didn’t dare beat down this wonderful feeling that warmed my chest. Grabbing the doorknob, I took a big, stabilizing breath before pushing the metal barrier open, and the metallic scent of blood hit me square in the face.
Isobel was tied to a chair, her nose and face crusted with blood down her slender neck, and I couldn’t help but grin when her head snapped up. Fiery, brown eyes met mine only to widen in surprise, and I leaned on the door frame to cross my arms in an effort to contain my amusement.
“You really fucked up this time, Isobel.” The panic on her pretty, birdlike features was intoxicating, framed by hair sticking to her cheeks with sweat and blood. Like this, she was almost bearable to look at, and I rubbed my chin thoughtfully as I scanned her. “Did you think I didn’t know what you were doing?”
Posing the vague question to see her reaction, I watched that panic darken, and she must’ve thought I was talking about whatever bullshit her brother spouted. Isobel sat up a little straighter in the metal chair, stuck out her chin, and took a breath in preparation, but I didn’t let her open her big ass mouth. Holding up a hand to silence her, I sauntered into the makeshift interrogation room to lean on the armrests and get close to her face.
“The only thing I want to hear coming out of that disgusting mouth of yours is the name of whoever you’re scheming with. I know it’s not Wren because he’s missing right now. I know it’s not your dumbfuck brother because he hates you almost as much as I find you repulsive. It’s definitely not your father— the senile piece of shit probably can’t remember who you are.” She had the audacity to look pained at my snipe, and I pushed myself up roughly to jostle her chair. “So, think carefully about what idiocy you’re going to spew out.”
Isobel was quiet, and I hoped, for once, she was using her brain. I had shit that needed answers. Of course, I could tell her that I’d let her go, but if she really trusted my word and spilled her guts . . .
Well, then what the fuck did I need her for? The answers to my questions would be simple. The only issue was that I was too far removed from the Italians to know much of the fundamentals.
“What’ll you do for me if I tell you?” Barking a hard laugh, I threw back my head, and Isobel glared at me from under her raven bangs. “You’re an insufferable bastard, Carlyle, but theonething you know is a business deal.”
Arching a brow quizzically, my mirth caught in my chest, and my hand shot out to wrap around her throat. Forcing Isobel’s head up, I leaned in until I could count each individual eyelash, and she gasped as her cold sweat slickened my palm.
“Is that how you want to start this, you stupid cunt? By insulting me?” Reaching for the gun tucked into its holster against my back, I pressed the barrel against her temple, and she whimpered a deliciously scared sound. “I don’t appreciate being insulted in my own home. I’ll give you the opportunity to retract that statement.”
Wide eyes wavered at my calm, and I put a little more pressure on her throat as irritation stained my tongue like acid.
“I saidapologize,you fucking bitch!” Roaring in her face got her out of her own head, and Isobel shakily whispered an apology before I released her jaw with a jerk. Putting my gun away, I wiped my hand on my pants with disgust curling my lip. “Now, if you want to make a deal, we can make a deal. What you get depends on what you give.”
“I want to leave here unharmed.” Pausing, as if she expected me to deny her, Isobel frowned with uncertainty wrinkling her slender brows. Waiting a few seconds, I hoisted myself onto the metal table up against the wall, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Fine. What dumbass plan have you been cooking up in that empty head of yours, and who’s your even more dumbass accomplices?” I swung my legs a little just to relieve some tension and watched Isobel expectantly. Did she really think I was going to let her just waltz out the gates and trudge back home? She certainly seemed to believe that if her sturdy expression was anything to go by. The longer the silence stretched, the more sure of her decision she seemed.
It was almost funny how stupid she was.After all, you never specified where or when ‘here’ was . . . and you’re not leaving this room.That was one of the first lessons my father taught me— if I was ever held hostage, assume they’re going to kill me and keep my mouth shut. Talking would just delay the inevitable.
“Wren’s not missing, he’s dead.” My brows twitched in surprise, and I jutted my chin out as Isobel hung her head. “I had him assassinated after he took that deal to trade his enterprise for horses. He ruined our plan.”
“That is really vague and unhelpful. What plan?” Frowning darkly at this surprising but boring twist, I cocked my head as I contemplated this turn of events. Wren sold his State-side girls for horses. It wasn’t a stupid deal to take on his part. My issue with it was him being fucked over by that desert snake so completely. It’s true he wasn’ttotallyuseless, as he still had the rest of the damn world, but . . . him being dead presented problems for me.
“We were gonna get someone under your skin— or one of your brothers— and blackmail you.” Trailing off, Isobel’s lips thinned, and I frowned under tightly knit brows as my mind chugged along like the Little Engine That Could. “Anyway, after Wren fucked it all up, I suggested to my dad to marry you, and my brother pushed it because he wanted to get me out of the way. When you said ‘no,’ I had to contact that bitch in Nevada, but she refused to even hear me out. I searched for a while, and I got word that some no-name from Dallas had access to some girls. By the time I went out there, they were gone, but I got assurances that they could be found.”
Dallas. Hiding how troubled that place was starting to make me, I inhaled deeply as Isobel paused. Her nasal voice rang in my ears, and I leaned back on my arms to drum my fingertips on the metal.
“Let me guess . . . it was a debtor or a debtor’s family member.” Turning back to Isobel, I frowned deeply as she nodded dumbly, and I slid off the table with a grunt. “Cool. Thanks for the chat.”
“Wait! Damnit, Carlyle!” Pausing at her frantic shriek, I almost winced as it bounced off the concrete walls, and she jerked her arms tied to the back of the chair. “You said you’d let me go!”
“You didn’t exactly give me anything to warrant your life, now did you?” Isobel started to pant, struggled to adjust the chair even as I turned my back on her, and I lifted my hand in a dismissive wave. “Let me know when you’ve got something important to say- if ever. I’m sure someone at some point will come down and give you some water.”
“Carlyle! Carlyle, wait! Please!” Even from outside the room, with the door shut, I could faintly hear Isobel screaming bloody fucking murder, and I ran my hands up my face with a groan.
“Valerie . . . Valerie . . . Valerie. What the fuck is your mother up to down there?” Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I dialed Esmarissa’s personal number, and she answered within the first ring. “Whatever you’re doing on Wednesday, cancel it. I’m coming to you.”
“I’m going to my boyfriend’s ex-brother-in-law’s wedding.” The bland response rolled my eyes, and I started down the hallway towards the elevator as a sigh floated through the speaker. “How’s next week? Tuesday?”
“Fine. Congratulations to your brother-in-law.” Hanging up, I tapped Vanessa’s speed dial, and her chipper voice gyrated harshly against my brain. “Send a wedding gift to Dean Warrhal. Something practical, like gift cards.”
“Do you want that bundled with a baby gift? Their second child is due in three months.” Grumbling an affirmative, I wondered how the fuck Vanessa stayed on top of every single person’s life that I’ve ever worked with. Women with an internet connection and a lot of time were terrifying. After all, she was a secretary that had no secretarial work— she was like the head maid of secretaries, doing nothing but gossiping while her assistant did all the work.Speaking of maids . . .
