Devil's Redemption (Devil's Pawn Duet 2)

“What do you think she did? Cause his heart attack?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Oh my God, you do. Are you being serious?” I push off his lap and stand.

“There are ways. You’re too innocent to comprehend those ways, Isabelle.”

“Do you mean too stupid?”

“I mean what I said. Innocent. You’re good. She’s not.” He stops, shakes his head. “I always say the wrong thing, don’t I?”

I don’t say anything.

He stands up. “I don’t want you hurt. That’s what this comes down to.”

“I won’t be hurt. You’ll protect me. Just don’t do it by locking me up and throwing away the key.”

“I’m trying.” He draws in a deep breath and exhales. “I had a call from Hildebrand’s secretary a few minutes ago.”

“The Councilor?”

He nods. “Seems your cousin has some information she came across while clearing out Carlton’s desk. She’s just a fountain of insights these days, isn’t she?”

“What information?” I ask, ignoring the dig.

“We’ll need to go to the compound to hear it.”

“We?”

“You and me. He wants us both there.”

“Or you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Your safety is my priority.”

“How exactly do you think I’d be unsafe?”

“Like I said, Isabelle, I don’t trust her. She wants something.”

“What could she want?”

“In this case I can take a guess.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“I requested a second autopsy.”

I’m confused.

“She’ll want to block it. That’s the reason for this coincidental timing of the revelation she’s about to spring on us.”

“Why do you want a second autopsy? What did the first one prove?”

“Heart attack.”

I throw my hands into the air. “What do you think a second one will reveal exactly? He had a heart attack. There were witnesses. A coroner said so.”

He stands, checks his watch. “We’re expected within the hour.”

“I guess the conversation’s over then. Because you get to decide when our conversations are over. This isn’t a partnership. This is a dictatorship.”

He cocks his head. “Who told you it was a partnership?”

“You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?” I turn to walk away but he grabs my arm.

“I’m trying, Isabelle.”

“Try harder!”

His hand squeezes and I see the effort it takes him to ease up. But he does. And forces a tight breath. “She’ll ask that my autopsy request be denied. Mark my words.”

“And then you’ll win?”

“No, Isabelle. I lost a long time ago. There is no winning when you’re playing this sort of game. There’s remembering the dead. There’s avenging them.”

“What about the living? What happens to the living?” My eyes fill up with tears.

He lets me go, turns away and wraps his hand around the back of his neck. He’s under pressure. And he’s losing control.

“Jericho,” I say, touching a hand to his shoulder. But before I can continue, he turns to me.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

Again, the conversation is over. “Not yet.”

“You’ll eat while I shower and change.” He walks to the door, opens it, and waits for me.

I follow, stop in front of him. “What are you thinking happened to Carlton, Jericho? Why a second autopsy really? Tell me. Trust me enough to tell me.”

“Heart attacks can be induced. Unless you know to look for the signs, you’ll miss them. The Society has a dark history with poisons and your cousin is full of surprises these days.”

35

Jericho

Isabelle is quiet but anxious on the drive to the compound. I’d prefer not to take her. Honestly, I’d like nothing better than to do what she said. Lock her up in the house until this threat passes. Because Julia Bishop is a threat. Perhaps a bigger one than I at first imagined. But Isabelle won’t believe me and with Carlton Bishop’s death, she has that much more sympathy for her cousin.

We arrive at the compound and are escorted to Hildebrand’s office where Julia Bishop is already sitting, dressed in black from head to toe. A pantsuit this time that must have been tailor-made to her body. When she sees Isabelle, she rushes to her. The way the two embrace I wonder if Isabelle has heard a word I’ve said.

Hildebrand stands behind his desk and one of his men closes the office door.

“Are you doing okay?” Isabelle asks Julia who looks the part of grieving lover when I see her face. Less makeup. Eyes puffy. “How is Matty?”

“We’ll be fine. It was a shock and I wish it didn’t happen the way it did but…” she trails off, shrugging her shoulders.

“You two were together?”

“He didn’t want to tell anyone. Not even you. I’m sorry I kept it from you. It was just, well, you know how people would be.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t.”

“Because you’re good,” Julia says, pulling back, glancing at me beyond Isabelle’s shoulder. “How are you?” she tilts her head, touches a subtle hand to Isabelle’s stomach.

“I’m fine,” Isabelle says, uncomfortable as she glances at me. My eyes are narrowed on Julia’s hand. “The baby’s fine,” she adds. The comment seems out of place. An odd thing to say.