Chapter 33
thirty-three
COLE
The auto shop was comfortingly familiar after last night’s stay in Isabelle’s dorm.
I didn’t like sleeping anywhere except my own bed.
Maybe Issy was right, I really was getting old.
Despite enjoying waking up jammed together, sleeping in her dorm room wasn’t going to work for me, long term, and I was the kind of man who planned to sleep with my woman every night.
Maybe her father being a fucking asshole was good timing, in the end.
I’d take over her tuition payments, get rid of the dorm room, and move her into the cabin sooner rather than later.
That way, I could take her to class and pick her up, and I’d know she was safe at all times.
Unless there was some compelling reason why she wanted to stay in her dorm for the rest of the semester, in which case, RIP to my back.
The day was a blur of work I’d been slacking off on.
I focused as well as I could, considering it felt like an axe was swinging back and forth above my head.
I was hyperaware of every sound, waiting for the phone in my drawer to ring.
Waiting for the mole in the MC to make their move.
Waiting for Teddy from the Iron Vultures to come out of hiding and for shit to hit the fan.
Finally, I headed into the bar.
The place hummed with the usual noise, but I blocked it out, especially Kiki’s annoying laughter as she hung on some guy’s arm in the corner. Her eyes flicked to me far too often for her flirting to be anything real, but the guy was eating it up. She was always pretending.
Maddox slid onto the stool beside me at the end of the bar, which I was grateful for. He knew how to keep company without filling the silence. The smoke from his cigarette curled in the air around us, and Ronnie filled my glass without me having to ask.
The door swung open, letting in a blast of cool air that pushed out the cigarette smoke that had pooled at the ceiling.
A man stepped in with his shoulders hunched, his eyes searching the room before they landed on me.
It was Derek Lane. He was one of mine, and the very last man I wanted to see unaccompanied.
He was my eyes on campus. My eyes on Isabelle.
He was the man I trusted to keep Isabelle safe when I couldn’t be there to do it.
If he was here, in person, it meant there was a problem.
My stomach tightened, and I stood to face him.
The way he moved was noticeably different.
He was stiff, nervously fidgeting with the key to his bike, and avoiding the gaze of other people. The knot in my gut twisted sharper.
“Lane,” I said, gesturing with a nod of my head to the corner booth.
“We should talk somewhere private,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, my voice coming out sharp and clipped. “Is she…?”
Derek put his hands up, as if to stop my racing thoughts. “She’s fine, but there is something I need to tell you.”
Relief hit my lungs, but the knot in my gut twisted harder at Derek’s nervousness.
“Spit it out,” I snapped at him.
“Not here,” he said, glancing around the bar.
Nothing good ever came after words like that.
“My office,” I said, keeping my voice low, and turning to lead the way.
The office door shut behind us with a sharp thud. I couldn’t bring myself to sit in my desk chair, so I leaned against the wall instead. “All right. What is it that you couldn’t tell me in the bar?”
Derek hesitated. He was a solid man and older than me by only a few years, but he was as steady as they came. I’d trusted him ever since he’d taken a knife to the forearm for me without blinking. But right now, he looked like a dog who was scared for his owner to find the shit on their new rug.
“What happened?” I pressed, my patience razor thin. “If this is about Isabelle, then you need to spit it out.”
“It is,” he said quickly, as if thankful for a jumping-off point.
Ice filled my veins. “What about Isabelle?”
Derek looked as though he was trying to find the words before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a newspaper that had been folded several times. He held out the small square to me.
I took it from his hand and unfolded the pages. The headline made me grit my teeth in frustration. Fuck.
“When?” I asked. “When was this published?”
Derek shifted uncomfortably, still standing in the middle of the room. “It ran in the school’s newspaper this morning. It’s all over campus. They have the article posted on the website. People are starting to talk.”
I sank into my desk chair and latched onto every word on the page.
The details of the shipment, the guns trading hands, and the shoot-out that followed.
Every single detail. Sure, she didn’t mention the Hounds by name, but it was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots.
A pseudonym was used for the leader of the operation. Colin Blakely. Fucking perfect.
“Where is she now?” I barked at Derek.
He jumped. “I-I don’t know, I mean, she ran off.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “She ran off?” I stood up, kicking my chair and sending it crashing into the wall. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your job is to make sure she doesn’t run off anywhere.”
I grabbed him by his cut and hauled him forward. “When I ask you where my woman is, you better always have an answer. Where. Is. She?”
A knock sounded at the door, soft and timid. I knew it was her in an instant.
I stared Derek down a little longer, letting him see the madness in my eyes, before pushing him away.
“Wait outside. Tail her when she leaves. Do it fucking right this time.”
“Yes, Boss,” Derek said, and stumbled out of the room, leaving the door open. Isabelle was framed in the doorway. Fuck, she was beautiful, and I’d missed her.
“Cole,” Isabelle said. Her voice was rough, like she’d been crying.
I sat down in my office chair, trying my best to keep my temper under control. Was I disappointed about the article? Fuck yeah. Did it change the way I felt about this woman?
No. It was too late. Nothing could.
Isabelle came into the room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.
“I hear congratulations are in order, Ms. Lancaster. Front page.”
“Cole, I never wrote this. I have no idea who did,” she said, starting forward. She had another copy of the paper in her hand. Was she going to show me it herself? Adorable. The way she trusted me made my heart hammer in my chest.
“Really? Whoever did seemed to have a lot of information about that night at the shipyard, and I don’t think Maddox or Gage’ writing skills are up to par.”
Isabelle scoffed. “Don’t get me started on the writing skills. A preschooler could have done a better job.” She tossed the paper on the desk.
I stared at her a beat. “Are you pissed off that the article isn’t better written?”
She shrugged. “It’s got my name on it. Of course, I wish it was better written.”
I threw my head back and laughed.
“What? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for my big break, and someone stole it from me!”
“Then I guess we’re both fucked. You’re professionally embarrassed and I’m… going to jail, maybe.”
She paled. “No one could build a case out of this. There’s nothing real in there. It’s just conjecture—”
I shook my head slowly. “No, it’s not. There’s a lot of real shit in there. Enough to really put me away.” I pushed myself out of my chair. In the drawer, the burner rang. I unlocked the drawer and pulled it out, answering with my eyes on Isabelle.
“Bailey. It’s all a go. We’ve waited too long, things have progressed—”
“I’m aware,” I snapped.
“No, I don’t think you are. Don’t say anything when questioned. I’ll get someone down there to you.”
“Got it,” I said shortly. “I trust you.” I hung up and put the burner back into the drawer before locking it back up again.
“Who was that?” Isabelle asked as I crossed the room to her.
“No one for you to worry about,” I told her, and pulled her into my arms. She sank into my embrace, and I’d be damned if it wasn’t the best feeling I’d ever experienced.
“I didn’t write that article,” she muttered against my chest.
“I know, Goldilocks. Unless you’ve improved your sneaking skills about a thousand percent, I know you didn’t.”
She pulled back and looked up at me, her expression incredulous but hopeful.
“You believe me?”
I nodded, savoring the look on her face.
“Of course, I do. I’ll do you one better, baby,” I murmured, winding a hand into her hair and tilting her head back. She watched me trustingly.
“I wouldn’t care if you had written it.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“If I thought you’d written it, I’d be pissed… but it wouldn’t change anything.”
She looked so confused. Had no one ever loved this girl unconditionally? Considering she had two living parents, that was just fucked up.
“You’re mine, Issy. I told you that. It’s not something that can be taken back.”
“Cole,” she whispered, her eyes shining like she might be about to cry, and I couldn’t have that.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Isabelle, and I’m not a man who’ll fall more than once. It’s not in me. You are it for me.”
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips.
“You’re my journey’s end.”
Her hand tightened on my wrist, holding my palm against her cheek. I pulled back. She was about to speak. She opened her mouth to say something… but I never got to hear it.
Just then, shouts erupted outside of the office. So, the cops had gotten off their asses and decided to do some work for once? Wonders never ceased.
Isabelle spun around, looking at the door.
“Oh my god, it’s because of the story,” she murmured, looking horrified.
I shrugged, heading to my desk to grab my cut. I wanted to look presentable for my perp walk.
“I guess the cops should do some kind of work in this town from time to time,” I sighed, pulling my cut on.
“You’re not worried about it?” Isabelle fretted.
“I know how to cover my tracks. Besides, this whole setup and lifestyle,” I gestured around at the office, leaning a hip against my desk, “the guns, the danger… it doesn’t suit a family man.”
“A family man?” Isabelle repeated, giving me a look like I was crazy. “As romantic as you’re being right now, is it the right time?”
I just chuckled. “No time like the present, and I might not have the chance later. Just know,” I straightened up, “I do want more. What you said before, about wanting a better life… more… I do want it. I want it all, and I want it with you.”
She watched me with tear-filled eyes. I reached out and brushed one from her cheek.
“Don’t cry, baby. They don’t have shit on me. Don’t sweat it. Just think about you and me, a cabin in the woods, and the rest of our fucking lives.”
Bangs sounded at the door.
“Cole Bailey. Open up. We have a warrant for your arrest,” a loud voice called through the wood.
Isabelle’s hands screwed up into fists. She wasn’t used to this. She was no criminal. She was a good, good girl, and she was all mine.
I unlocked the door and police immediately burst in.
I raised my hands to show I wasn’t resisting, but regardless, they handled me like I was a ticking time bomb.
They cuffed me, wrenching my hands behind my back.
Isabelle never took her eyes from mine as Ronnie came in and huddled close to her, taking her hand.
“Cole Bailey, we are arresting you—” the arresting officer swore as he nearly tripped over a pile of boxes in the corner of the office.
I waited to hear what shit they were trying to pin on me after that article. It wouldn’t stick, there was no way, but the cops loved their performative BS.
He recovered and straightened up.
“We’re arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Grant Elwick. You have the right to remain silent…”
Wait. What the fuck?