Page 53 of Bitter Lies

“One more chance—which is one too many. If they fuck up again, I make no promises.” I end the call, cutting off Darius before he can warn me again—or fire me.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I spin to head back inside, passing Ryan along the way. I should hold my tongue. Let it go. But that’s not who I am.

I march right over to him to make sure he understands where I stand. “Mind telling me how the hell you let this happen? Your arse should’ve been parked right outside her door.”

Unimpressed, he blinks but refuses to explain.

“Fuck up again and you’ll answer to me.” I lean in, crowding his space, watching his jaw tighten as he holds his temper. “Unless you want to end up in the morgue.”

The fucker smirks, and I soon understand why. He shifts to the side, offering a slight bow, and opens the rear passenger door. “Miss.”

Isabel tries to slip past me, but I catch her arm before she can get in. “Where are you going?”

Halfway in, her gaze meets mine. Her puffy eyes are filled with heartbreaking sadness. “The hotel. I can’t go back to the penthouse until it’s been cleared. They’re admitting Grams. She has a concussion, and her memory is still off. I need a shower and clean clothes.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the day. “And I need to visit the morgue. Someone has to confirm it’s my grandfather they found.”

I nod and release her arm. As soon as she climbs in, I move fast, not giving anyone a chance to stop me. Nudging her in more, I shove through the opening before Ryan can close it and drop into the seat beside her.

“Get out!” With a sharp jerk, Ryan flings the door open, his fingers digging into my biceps. “No fucking way are you coming with us.”

He pulls. I hold. Training or not, I know how to shut him down long enough to get her to back me.

“Tell him I’m coming with you.” Our eyes lock, and if she weren’t in a vulnerable state, she’d fight me on this. “Tell him.”

Leaning around me, she addresses Ryan. “He’s tagging along.”

I take it one step further. “And they are to take you to my place, not some fucking hotel.”

This time, she hesitates.

“Tell him.” I drop my voice to a low, husky growl and watch her reaction. “My place.”

Rolling her bloodshot eyes, she repeats, “His place.”

“Miss, I don’t think⁠—”

I cut him off. “Your job isn’t to think. It’s to follow her orders and protect her. Back the fuck off before I break your wrist.”

Ryan releases my arm, his glare burning into me. He bites back the threat in his eyes—smart move—and slams the door, the sound echoing through the vehicle. Muttering under his breath to the female guard, he circles the car before roughly sliding into the driver’s seat.

When she climbs in, I recognize her brunette hair. “Can you give me the address, Mr. Bishop?”

I rattle it off and watch Sasha type it into the GPS. Once I’ve verified she’s entered it correctly, I close the partition.

Ryan’s eyes meet mine in the rearview, and he doesn’t hold back. The look he gives me says he disapproves, even if he keeps his mouth shut. Orders, I’d guess. Makes me want to see how far I can push him before he snaps.

“Don’t be a prick. He’s only doing his job.” Her head against my shoulder, Isabel’s body begins to shake.

No longer concerned about her inept guard and the war brewing between us, I turn and pull her into my arms. “Shhh, I’ve got you. Let it out.”

She does. Silently, she cries in my arms. Her head is tucked into my chest as I rub her back, doing my best to comfort her. And while I do, my anger grows at how this could’ve been prevented if her guards were better at their jobs.

Something doesn’t feel right about this.

And then a thought hits me that no one has brought up yet.

It’s unsettling.