35. Isabel
Isabel
The longer she talks, the harder it becomes to sit here and take it in. Not just for me, but for everyone. Silence settles over the car when she stops, heavy enough that even the sound of breathing feels intrusive.
I have no words. They’ve been swallowed by the sorrow overtaking me.
Grams watched him die.
Witnessed her husband’s murder and had the presence of mind to act. To hide the gun, to protect what mattered, before everything slipped away again.
I’m not so sure I could’ve done that.
And here my grandmother’s mind, which has trouble recalling what year it is, somehow didn’t fail her when she needed it the most.
“Alma.” Aiden breaks the void, his voice steady where mine refuses to be. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. No one should have to go through something like that. I promise I will hunt down the men responsible and make them pay.”
“Thank you, dear.” The breath she lets out is long and tired. “Please take care of my sweet girl. I know that was hard for her to hear. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
It’s been a long fucking two weeks. A long day doesn’t even scratch the surface.
Exhaustion hangs in the air, but something else settles in deeper. The ugly truth of what comes next. When she wakes, there’s a strong chance she won’t remember what she told us.
And as wrong as it feels to think it, maybe that’s a kindness. Better in the long run if she doesn’t have to relive the moment he was taken from her. Even if that means I have to remind her every day he’s gone.
“Can I ask you one more thing before Misty helps you get ready for bed?” Aiden asks.
Dislike coils in my stomach, but she’s the only person who can help.
“I’ll do my best, but it’s getting hard to keep things straight. My head hurts.”
He nods and then throws a wink my way. “So, let me get this straight, I have to stroke that metal cock to get the walls inside your gallery to open? Seriously?”
For a split second, the weight in the car lifts.
Grandmother laughs, full and unfiltered, dragging the rest of us with her. “It’s just a good stiff knob, boy. I’m sure you’ve given yours a pull a time or two.”
“Goodnight, Alma,” Aiden growls.
But it’s not the same kind he does with me. This one is more playful and meant to help ease the tension hanging in the air.
The moment doesn’t last; it never does.
Pauly mumbles a few words before a door shuts and his voice comes over the line loud and clear. “Well, fuck me.”
Every muscle in my body tightens.
“Tell me that arsehole didn’t get his hands on that gun.” Aiden’s tone drops, all humor gone.
“Gun’s locked away tight. Still can’t figure out how she got in here. Door was secured, I made sure of it.”
“Wait!” My focus snaps back. “She was hiding in your makeshift office?”
“In the closet,” Pauly confirms. “Found her tucked deep into the back when I went to put the bag away. She looked like a frightened child. I’m not convinced she knew where she was or how she got here.”
“She did not, I’m sure.” I drag a hand over my face, as I try to process it all.
Speaking up from the front, Darius interrupts.
“I’m sending a team to help you. They will secure the firearm and any other evidence.
Crispin’s working with the pathologist, reexamining the body to make sure nothing gets shoved aside.
Feels like someone on the inside is tampering with things.
Not on my watch. Not with this case. It’s personal. ”
The conversation continues, but I block it out.
One detail refuses to let me go. The part where Grams mentioned the person helping Drake.
Bitterness builds slowly at first, then I reach that point where it boils over into a rage I can’t control.
How dare he?
The guilt I’d felt for blowing him off that night—gone. Burned out and replaced with something far more dangerous.
“You okay?” Aiden’s hand lands on my knee.
“Not really.” My jaw tightens as the words come out. “Did you catch who the guy with Drake was?”
Aiden’s frown deepens telling me he did.
The answer tastes sour. “My fucking ex-friend. The one I hooked up with years ago. We ended things because neither of us had time for more. Or… that’s what I told him.”
A humorless scoff follows. “Truth? He was a lousy lay. And way too obsessive after we fucked.”
“Can we not discuss that? I don’t want to hear about your extracurricular activities,” Antonio grumbles next to me. “You’re talking about the arse kisser, Quentin Drake?”
Esteban leans forward, clearly unimpressed. “He reminded me of Winnie’s sisters before they matured. Snobby. Only interested in what you could do for him.”
Aiden frowns, thinking it over, then he snaps his fingers. “The skinny, nerdy-looking knob. Kept pushing up his glasses like that made him look smarter. The way he looked at you made me want to snap him like a twig.”
That’s him.
Quentin was never impressive. On the thin side. No muscle, no presence. Forgettable. Nothing that made me look twice. The kind of man who mistook proximity for power. The opposite of Aiden. Not even in the same league.
The difference is almost laughable. Quentin couldn’t hold my attention, let alone keep it. And in bed? He was average at best. Something I tolerated more than enjoyed.
Now that I know what real chemistry feels like, what real control looks like, there’s no going back. Even if for some crazy reason Aiden and I don’t work out, Quentin wouldn’t cross my mind for a rebound.
Not after this. Not after what he’s done.
Lane reads what I assume is a text from his phone. “Pauly says Quentin is the son of Dr. Donna Hemsworth and Dr. Reginald Drake. Reg is the oldest of four. He has two sisters, Roslyn and Rebecca, and a brother who was disowned, Rodrick Bogdan Drake.”
“Explains why he’s just Drake.” Not a horrible name, but not one he’d want floating around his mafia circle. “Bet he got his arse handed to him growing up.”
“Funny you should say that.” Lane clicks his tongue.
“Rodrick was arrested at thirteen for beating two classmates nearly to death. One never fully recovered. Spent a good chunk of his teenage years cycling through young offenders. At eighteen, he was arrested for murder. Walked free after Trent Doyle secured his legal counsel. After that it’s a long list. Petty theft, armed robbery, assault, domestic violence. Chargers never stuck.”
A brief pause before he continues. “Family cut ties before he turned twenty-one. Revoking his trust fund.”
Aiden falls back in his seat, bored. “Heard it all before.”
“Good for you.” I kick him in the shin. “Some of us haven’t. Maybe you’ll learn something new if you just listen.”
His hand wraps around my ankle, a slow grin spreading. “Did you just kick me? You’re pushing it.”
“Please stop,” Lorenzo grunts next to him. “What games you two play in private, keep them there. Unless you want a beat down.”
“And who’s giving it to me?” Aiden tilts his head as if it’s a challenge.
“Me,” Lorenzo doesn’t even blink. His eyes are as lethal as I’ve ever seen him. He’s deadly serious.
“Lorenzo dabbles in MMA,” I add, unable to resist. “Sixteen years ago he kicked the shit out of Rueben Del Markov after he dishonored his wife.”
Still feels like it was only yesterday.
“No offense, Lenny,” I say to my brother, giving a quick glance to Aiden. “But my man is ex-special forces. Not the same easy target Rueben was.”
“Can we get back on track?” Antonio shakes his head. “What’s the plan? Because right now this feels like a mess.”
Silence answers him.
If no one else has a plan… I’ve got one. They won’t like it, but that’s too fucking bad.
“I think I have one.” A breath steadies my nerves before continuing. “Before one of you starts yelling, and tries to shut me down, hear me out.”
Every set of eyes is on me, even Edward’s. He’s watching and listening carefully from his spot behind the wheel.
“It’s time I reached out to my old friend Quentin—”
“Hell, no!” they shout in unison.