Epilogue
Isabel Osborne couldn’t have a more booked day. It was as if every single minute of it had been planned up front and each meeting overflowed over the other. And that didn’t include a very special call from an old friend. Making it fit with everything had been an exercise in upper management scheduling.
As she walked to meet Gabrielle Thorne, her best friend for years, Isabel tried not to remember the reasons why they had met. There was nothing good in that chapter of her life, except meeting the mighty blond warrior who allowed her to change the course of her life and build a small empire of her own.
It was Gabrielle who’d inspired her new career. Information. Not the dark, shady one used to get her out of trouble, but the one available to the world that could be twisted and colored to destroy people. Now the head of her own PR and crisis management firm, Isabel was a respected member of the Chicago business community, and her reputation and talent had expanded both on the East and West Coasts. An accomplishment she’d never thought possible. Not with her past.
A past that was never far away, and that could come and haunt her in a matter of seconds, but part of her was tired of always thinking about that. If ever it became the case, she would deal. After all she was a specialist in this kind of situation. Not that she wanted to test what she was capable of, but it would be the ultimate proof of her talent and resilience.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she spotted the bar where Gabrielle was supposed to meet her. She was starving, not remembering when was the last time she ate? Maybe it was when her assistant pushed a muffin into her hand, but she had no recollection of actually putting it in her mouth.
And besides her many duties, Isabel had worked hard on her research on what Gabrielle had requested. It was known that Isabel had a way of getting information, especially from the closed-off business community. Once you were in, it was like being part of a very exclusive club, one she intended to make the most of.
The small pub was bustling with the Friday night crowd, and as it was so close to the Loop, most of its customers still sported suits and ties. Trying to make her way inside, someone pinched her butt and Isabel snarled, turning and punching the asshole in the gut. It was a young professional already inebriated, but no way would she let that go. By the look of surprise and pain on his face, she was certain her point had been made.
“Izzy!” The familiar voice made her turn and over the crowd, she saw a blond head so similar to hers bouncing. Gabrielle!
With a big smile on her face, Isabel extricated herself from the mass of bodies before being engulfed in a big hug. The simple contact, that true friendship, the sincere sisterly love was exactly what she needed. When they both looked at each other, they started laughing.
“You look good, Gab. Married life agrees with you!”
Gabrielle swatted her playfully on the shoulder. “You say that because we look alike, and you want me to say that you’re beautiful.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. It was true that with their light blond hair and tall build, they looked alike, but it stopped there in her opinion. Where Gabrielle had an Amazonian beauty in her, more athletic with pale blue eyes, Isabel looked more like a baby-doll, all curves and softness with a pouty mouth and dark blue irises making them look almost black. But both women had a definite strength in them, and a wicked sense of humor, which made them fast friends from the moment they had met years ago.
“I’ve had people tell me I’m beautiful day in and day out for years, and it got me in heaps of shit… And I was being sincere. Sully is a lucky man. How is he? And Arthur?”
At the mention of her adopted son, Gabrielle brightened even more. “They’re both good. Sully just came back from a mission and has taken Arthur on a fishing trip. The house will smell like fish for weeks to come.”
Isabel laughed, but was bumped quite rudely by a man with two beer pitchers.
“Gab, you couldn’t have chosen another place? This pub is packed and noisy as hell.”
“Hiding in plain sight, and all that. Come to our booth, the guys are already there and you all need an update on what’s going on.”
It was true that Isabel wasn’t exactly sure why Gabrielle had requested her services and what her research entailed. But with the underlying tension in her friend, she suspected it was something serious.
Taking her hand, Gabrielle pulled her toward the back of the bar, where the noise dimmed a bit and the large circular booths offered better privacy. As they approached, a tall, bearded man got to his feet.
“Izzy, may I introduce you to Lazarus King, he’s the one needing your services.”
At the weird choice of words, Isabel shot a look at her friend who appeared as if she was enjoying their private joke too much. Lazarus King didn’t seem to understand the double entendre and offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Osborne.” The British accent rolled over her like honey, and that smile could send the entire female population of Chicago mad. However, there was something on his face that nagged her. As if she had seen him before.
“Do I know you? You look familiar.” Isabel was sifting through her memory and something told her that it was quite recent, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Smiling, Lazarus grinned. “Yeah, lately I had the same trouble. You’re probably referring to my brother, Archer Blackwood of Blackwood Energies.”
And it clicked in her mind. “Yes! The Adler Planetarium party. A little more than a year ago. I was there and met Blackwood. He’s a version of you, but without the beard.”
Gabrielle touched her arm. “And that is private information, Izzy. Don’t discuss it with anyone, please.” Another strange request, but she could wait and twist Gabrielle’s arm in private for more details.
“Before we start, I want to introduce you to two of his other brothers. Aleksei Voronov.” The man near the outside of the booth was handsome in his own right, but with his shaggy dark hair and greatly tattooed skin, it imposed an air of danger. What intrigued her was the suit he was sporting. Smiling, she offered her hand. His touch was warm, but his palm rugged.
“Mr. Voronov.”
“Miss Osborne. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
