Chapter 6: unexpected visitor
~A week later~
"Everything looks stable for now, Mrs. Carter," the doctor said. His shoes clicked across the floor as he shut her file with a snap. "The clouding hasn’t spread since last month, but don’t skip the drops. I’ll see you in four weeks."
Isabella barely heard him. She just nodded, her fingers gripping the handle of her cane until her knuckles turned white. The metal examination chair was freezing against Isabella’s thighs.
’Stable huh...’
It didn’t mean anything for her eyes to be stable when the rest of her life was falling apart.
It had been a full week since the opera.
Seven days since she had shoved that folded piece of paper into Aaron Kazarov’s hand.
Every single morning she woke up with her heart pounding, waiting for a sign, a weird phone call, or a note left with the servants. Nothing.
The silence was driving her crazy, keeping her stomach tied in a permanent knot. She was running out of time and the mark behind her ears served as a reminder.
If Aaron didn’t answer, she was stuck in that house with a husband who was waiting for the right time to get rid of her.
The heavy clinic door opened, and Luke’s massive shape filled the frame. "Ready to go, madam?"
"Yes, Luke," she said quietly.
He took her elbow, his grip firm as he led her out to the car. Isabella slid into the passenger seat, and the heavy door shut with a dull thud that sounded exactly like a jail cell locking up.
Luke got in, turned the key, and the car rolled smoothly out of the parking lot.
Usually, Isabella would try to talk to him... ask about his family or the weather just to act like the sweet, clueless housewife she was supposed to be.
Today, the weight in her chest was too heavy for small talk. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window, staring blankly at the passing streaks of shadows outside.
Up front, Luke adjusted the rearview mirror.
His eyes stayed on her reflection for a second, watching her tight mouth and the way her fingers kept twitching against her dress.
"Something bothering you today, Mrs. Carter?" Luke asked. His voice was flat, but he was watching her close. "You’ve been quiet since we left the clinic."
Isabella flinched a little but forced a weak smile toward the front seat. "Just tired, Luke. The doctor said the eye strain might be giving me these headaches. Can we stop at the bakery on the way back? I want something sweet."
"Yes ma’am," Luke said, turning the wheel.
They drove for another ten minutes, the sound of traffic getting louder as they hit the main avenue. Then the car slowed to a crawl, the brakes giving a soft squeak before coming to a dead stop.
Luke frowned, leaning over the steering wheel. The road ahead wasn’t jammed with an accident, but traffic was forced into a single lane by bright orange cones.
A bunch of police cars were parked along the curb, their lights flashing silently against the gray buildings. Cops in dark uniforms were walking between the cars, talking into radios.
"Looks like a checkpoint," Luke muttered, his hand dropping to the gear shift.
Isabella turned her head toward him, her eyebrows bunching up. "A checkpoint? Why?"
"Probably a politician moving through or routine security," Luke said, keeping his eyes on the cars ahead.
The cops weren’t checking everyone. They were picking cars at random, letting a family SUV pass through while pulling a dark sedan over to the curb.
When they hit the front of the line, a tall cop stepped out into the lane, raising his hand to stop them.
He walked up to the driver’s side, looking through the windows before his eyes locked onto Luke’s stiff posture, the security earpiece in his ear, and the bulge of the holster under his jacket.
"Afternoon, sir," the cop said. "Licensed security?"
Luke nodded, keeping his hands flat on the wheel where they could be seen. "Yes, officer. Personal protection for the Kingston estate."
"I need you to pull over into the secondary inspection lane, sir," the cop said, pointing toward an empty spot next to a big black command van.
Luke let out a short, annoyed breath but didn’t argue. He knew the drill; making a fuss just made cops dig deeper. He steered the car into the lane and put it in park.
This time another cop tapped on the glass. "Sir, step out of the car. We need to check your firearm permits and your employer credentials."
"I’ll be right back, Mrs. Carter," Luke said, unbuckling his belt. "Should only take a minute."
Luke got out onto the asphalt and handed over his wallet with his permits. The cop scanned the cards with a little handheld device, his forehead wrinkling as a red light blinked on the screen.
"Is there a problem?" Luke asked, his eyes immediately swinging back to the passenger window where Isabella was sitting.
"The system is flagging the corporate license for manual check," the cop explained, pointing at the command van. "Step inside the van for a second so we can clear this up."
Luke went completely stiff. "My boss’s wife is blind, officer. I’m not leaving her alone in a car on a busy street."
"It’s fine, sir," the cop said with a quick nod.
"We already have a female officer coming over to watch the car while we finish. She’ll stay right inside with her."
Luke looked back one last time. Seeing a uniform walking toward the back door, he swallowed his frustration and followed the cop toward the van.
In the back seat, Isabella heard the click of the rear door opening. A blast of cold city air hit her face, and then she heard the light shift of someone sliding onto the leather next to her.
"Mrs. Kingston?" a sharp, female voice asked.
"Yes?" Isabella said, her heart doing a sudden, nervous flutter.
"Your driver is going to be a few minutes with the paperwork," the woman said, her voice professional but calm. "We need to move you to another car so we can clear this lane for traffic. Take my arm, I’ll help you out."
Isabella hesitated, her fingers tightening on her cane. It sounded like normal police business, but a sudden spike of adrenaline shot straight up her spine.
She didn’t have a choice. In her world of blindness, she had to trust whatever hands guided her. She reached out, let the woman grab her elbow, and stepped out of the sedan.
She took a few steps, her heels clicking against the pavement, until she was guided into the back of another car. The leather seemed softer here, and the air smelled faintly of a scent she recognized instantly.
The door slammed shut behind her, cutting off all the street noise.
Isabella sat totally still, her ears straining in the dead silence of the car. The female cop hadn’t gotten in with her.
Instead, the heavy, unmistakable presence of a man shifted on the seat right beside her.
Her breath seized for a moment. The space around her suddenly felt smaller, hotter.
"You’re unbelievable," Isabella whispered, her voice shaking with that instant, angry recognition.
A low, rough chuckle came from the dark space next to her.
"Hello to you too, princess," Aaron Kazarov said, his voice lazy and arrogant, exactly the way she remembered it.
He leaned back against the leather, his blue eyes watching the red flush creeping up her cheeks.
"You look disappointed. Let me guess... you thought I’d ignore your call for help."
"Yes." Isabella frowned.
He chuckled again, his gaze narrowing at her attempt to look scary.
"Let me apologize then. I had to take care of some things."
....
Inside the cramped, dim trailer of the mobile command unit, the air smelled like cold coffee and old paper.
Luke stood near the metal counter, his jaw tight as he watched the officer behind the computer screen.
The guy was typing with one finger, completely unbothered by the time.
"Sorry about this, sir," a second cop said, leaning against the wall with a clipboard.
"The state network has been lagging all morning. It keeps hanging up on the verification page."
Luke looked down at his watch. The ticking didn’t help the growing irritation in his chest. "Can we speed this up? My boss’s wife is sitting alone in the car. I don’t like leaving her exposed on a main street."
"We’re trying," the first cop muttered, tapping the side of the monitor. "Look at that. Dropped completely. Let me try to reload it."
Another minute went by in total silence, save for the loud, grating hum of the air conditioner.
Just as Luke opened his mouth to take his papers back, the door clicked open. A third officer walked in, holding a grainy, black-and-white printout of a vehicle.
"Pardon the interruption," the officer said, stepping up to Luke and handing him the paper. "We’re tracking a robbery that happened three blocks down about an hour ago. Did you notice this vehicle on your route?"
Luke glanced down at the blurred photo of a standard black SUV. "No. Haven’t seen it."
"Take a closer look," the cop pressed, pointing at the license plate. "It might have passed you near the clinic intersection. We just need to check the box before we clear you."
Luke ground his teeth, staring at the paper just to get them off his back. It was classic bureaucracy, a stupid excuse to waste another five minutes of his day.
Meanwhile, a few yards down the cordoned lane, Isabella gripped the handle of her cane until her fingers ached.
"Did you set this whole thing up? The cops, the checkpoint, everything?"
"Let’s just say I have friends who owe me favors," Aaron said, the slight rustle of his suit sharp in the small space.
"And your bodyguard, Luke, is currently very busy answering questions about a robbery he knows nothing about. We have a few minutes. So you have my attention."