Joe was Martin’s minion. His stench followed her from New York. She watched him walk around the living room, scanning the white walls, glancing down the sides of the furniture. He made her skin crawl. Interestingly enough, he came from Detroit. Zagotta never took claim to Joe. Isla didn’t blame him — who would? — but she didn’t trust what Zagotta said either.
“What do I owe the displeasure of this visit?”
“Have you watched the news this morning?” he asked in a bubbly tone.
“I’ve been busy, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me all about it.”
“Familiar with the phrase ‘an eye for an eye’?”
“Philosophy this early gives me heartburn. Spit it out.”
He stuck out his dimpled chin. “Get Mia out, and Crosby gets her daddy back. Simple and easy.”
“No.”
“Perf—what? No?”
“No.” Isla crossed the living room and reached into a large ceramic vase. “I have a better idea.” As she pulled out a stacked and wrapped pile of cash, Joe’s close-set eyes widened. “Let’s play secret double agent.”
Joe wasn’t any different from any other warm-blooded creature. He was a man; therefore, the majority of his thinking came from his dick-brain. Joe craved respect. He regarded himself a ladies’ man, but the only ladies he attracted charged by the hour. The thought repulsed Isla, but Joe wanted money more. With enough, power followed. Snitches loved kickbacks.
“You’re underutilized, Joe, and poorly paid.”
He cocked his head to the side. “How much?”
“Five.”
“Hefty price for a little intel.”
“No.” Isla tossed him the money. “One now, the rest when you set up a meeting with Vinny.”
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t lie. I’ll find out the truth.”
“Aren’t you the fancy tech girl? Can’t you contact him?”
Isla crossed her arms over her chest. “I could, but Martin is watching me. He’d never suspect you and me working together. Come on, Joe. Straddling territories and bosses. You’re an evil genius or an absolute moron. Either way, you’re my in.”
Joe stared at the cash, stroking it with his thumb. Isla had a catch, but he was mesmerized by the money and didn’t even bother asking her for it. He was a moron, but an agreeable moron. Isla escorted him to the front door.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” Joe said but stopped. He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just to let you know, your husband was spotted at The Ives Inn with a young woman, quite beautiful. Did I mention young?”
Raided of sensibility, she bared her teeth. “For how long?”
“Two nights.”
Fire swept over her skin. She shoved Joe out and secured the house. Her head throbbed. Isla stomped back into the bedroom and swiped her phone from atop of the dresser. She tapped her contact list and thumbed a text message to Reed.
Isla: I know you’re back in town and not alone. We need to talk. Now.
Stripping from her wrinkled clothes, Isla walked into her closet and pulled a soft blue tee from the hanger. Even if Reed didn’t respond, she was going to Ives. If he weren’t there, she’d track him down. Isla yanked her favorite ankle jeans from the dresser drawer. Who did he think he was? Lecture her about cheating, and he’s the one screwing around. Joe was thrilled to share the little tidbit with her. She didn’t have time to deal with Reed acting like a petulant child. She had to get Crosby’s dad out of jail. Isla had lives to ruin, and now her husband was at the top of her list.
With a mouthful of bobby pins, Isla gathered her hair into a loose ponytail and slid the pins near the elastic band. Her phone vibrated.
Reed: I can’t fulfill your request at this time.
Isla: Are you going to do this?
Reed: I am.
She growled. Her thumbs pounded the glass screen.
Isla: I’m on my way to Ives. You ducking better be there.
“Damnit.”
Isla: Fucking. Fucking better be there.
Isla fumed; she didn’t wait for his response. She stomped down the stairs. Martin seemed to believe Reed would love the breaking news along with his eggs and black coffee. What was hidden beneath those words? Everything that was said within the families had another meaning.
“If he’s behind this, so help me . . .,” she jabbered and grabbed her leather backpack.