Retribution: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Secrets & Lies Book 3) by Lauren Landish Page B
Authors: Lauren Landish
Ads: Link
from NOPD already have the feds involved, and they've got files on Isis, they probably already know who she is and everything down to her favorite color for Jimmy Choos.”
“Last I knew, Isis Bardot's never been fingerprinted or anything approaching normal identification,” I reply, tapping my lips with my index finger. “She's even more of a ghost than Katrina. Fake IDs, all of it. Twenty years ago she had passports from half a dozen countries. Nowadays, I am betting it's even more. Hell, I don't even know for sure if her real name is Isis Bardot or not. When we were active in Kurdistan, the locals from Aisha's village did recognize her, and she's certainly related to Aisha, but as for the Bardot part, or the part about how she ended up being only a half-sister, well... I just don't know.”
Jackson hums. “How did that happen, anyway? Dad fucked around on mom?”
I shake my head, standing up. “According to Isis, it was actually that she and Aisha shared a mother. She was just a Kurdish woman who was working on the air base, working while her husband and daughter were living in Kurdistan, and they had an affair. She got pregnant, but her father kept her safe until after Isis was born. Being a married woman who had an affair, her mother abandoned her to her father, going back to her Kurdish family afterward. It wasn't until after she was back in Kurdistan that she revealed the truth to her husband. He accepted Isis as his daughter for a while, but soon sent her to live with her real father permanently. It could be true, it could be bullshit. I don't know. Doesn't really matter anyway.”
Jackson hums, nodding. “True. So where are you going now?”
“Now?” I ask, looking around the big main room. “I think I will check our wood supply, then get some exercise. Tell your wife that I’m not ready for our little sparring match, but soon. How is she looking?”
Jackson chuckles and shakes his head. “I've already got a hundred dollar bet with Carson that Katrina hands you your ass.”
I chuckle and pat Jackson on the shoulder. “Good to know. If Katrina can be ready around four thirty, I would appreciate it.”
After getting exercise via splitting logs for forty-five minutes, I shower and change clothes, trying to get my mind right. I know what my duty is. I need to stay here and protect this family, to protect my family. But with every e-mail, every death, I feel a pull to go back to New Orleans, to try and bring Isis down. I may be playing right into her game, she's got to be trying to set me up with her messages, but they're still worming their way inside my mind.
It's not the sexual overtones. While Isis was a past lover, there's nothing emotionally there for her, there never was. She reminded me of Aisha too much. I know I called her Aisha in bed so often that any other woman would have been pissed off. Not Isis, because when I was calling her Aisha, those were the days I gave her more of myself than normal.
So there's nothing emotionally there for Isis herself. If I have any conflicting emotions, it's because I know I love Melissa, but there's still the ghost of Aisha in my mind, and having Isis involved now is stirring that ghost I thought was long-buried.
My talk with Katrina is short, we've both been thinking of the same thing, and I agree that next time she has an online chat with Darcy, I should be there to feed her as much information as I can. Her husband's a good cop, and Jeff could use the information to help the NOPD with their hunt for Isis. Already the NOPD has made the connections between the five deaths in that they all worked for or were associates of Peter DeLaCoeur, so they're keeping their eyes on him. But there isn't much they can do, he's got an alibi for everything, and until they get their hands on Isis there's no way they can tie him to any sniper or killer.
After dinner, I go out into the courtyard of the compound, watching the moon. It's very clear tonight, clear and cold,
“Last I knew, Isis Bardot's never been fingerprinted or anything approaching normal identification,” I reply, tapping my lips with my index finger. “She's even more of a ghost than Katrina. Fake IDs, all of it. Twenty years ago she had passports from half a dozen countries. Nowadays, I am betting it's even more. Hell, I don't even know for sure if her real name is Isis Bardot or not. When we were active in Kurdistan, the locals from Aisha's village did recognize her, and she's certainly related to Aisha, but as for the Bardot part, or the part about how she ended up being only a half-sister, well... I just don't know.”
Jackson hums. “How did that happen, anyway? Dad fucked around on mom?”
I shake my head, standing up. “According to Isis, it was actually that she and Aisha shared a mother. She was just a Kurdish woman who was working on the air base, working while her husband and daughter were living in Kurdistan, and they had an affair. She got pregnant, but her father kept her safe until after Isis was born. Being a married woman who had an affair, her mother abandoned her to her father, going back to her Kurdish family afterward. It wasn't until after she was back in Kurdistan that she revealed the truth to her husband. He accepted Isis as his daughter for a while, but soon sent her to live with her real father permanently. It could be true, it could be bullshit. I don't know. Doesn't really matter anyway.”
Jackson hums, nodding. “True. So where are you going now?”
“Now?” I ask, looking around the big main room. “I think I will check our wood supply, then get some exercise. Tell your wife that I’m not ready for our little sparring match, but soon. How is she looking?”
Jackson chuckles and shakes his head. “I've already got a hundred dollar bet with Carson that Katrina hands you your ass.”
I chuckle and pat Jackson on the shoulder. “Good to know. If Katrina can be ready around four thirty, I would appreciate it.”
After getting exercise via splitting logs for forty-five minutes, I shower and change clothes, trying to get my mind right. I know what my duty is. I need to stay here and protect this family, to protect my family. But with every e-mail, every death, I feel a pull to go back to New Orleans, to try and bring Isis down. I may be playing right into her game, she's got to be trying to set me up with her messages, but they're still worming their way inside my mind.
It's not the sexual overtones. While Isis was a past lover, there's nothing emotionally there for her, there never was. She reminded me of Aisha too much. I know I called her Aisha in bed so often that any other woman would have been pissed off. Not Isis, because when I was calling her Aisha, those were the days I gave her more of myself than normal.
So there's nothing emotionally there for Isis herself. If I have any conflicting emotions, it's because I know I love Melissa, but there's still the ghost of Aisha in my mind, and having Isis involved now is stirring that ghost I thought was long-buried.
My talk with Katrina is short, we've both been thinking of the same thing, and I agree that next time she has an online chat with Darcy, I should be there to feed her as much information as I can. Her husband's a good cop, and Jeff could use the information to help the NOPD with their hunt for Isis. Already the NOPD has made the connections between the five deaths in that they all worked for or were associates of Peter DeLaCoeur, so they're keeping their eyes on him. But there isn't much they can do, he's got an alibi for everything, and until they get their hands on Isis there's no way they can tie him to any sniper or killer.
After dinner, I go out into the courtyard of the compound, watching the moon. It's very clear tonight, clear and cold,
Similar Books
