For the military intelligence network, locating a person’s phone is a piece of cake. They sent Andrew the location, and he grabbed his jacket and dashed out. Ryan quickly gathered a few people and followed him.
Andrew sped to the restaurant, where a clueless waiter tried to stop him at the private room door. Andrew kicked him aside, leaving the waiter unable to get up for a while. Ryan arrived right behind Andrew and grabbed the waiter from the floor.
The waiter, still confused, cursed, “Who the hell are you to cause trouble here? Do you know whose place this is?”
Ryan grabbed the waiter by the neck, lifting him up. “Kid, let me tell you whose place this is.”
Terrified, the waiter, struggling to breathe, went pale. “It wasn’t me. Mr. Ormsby paid me to drug that man and woman and lock them together.”
Ryan was stunned. A thought flashed through his mind, recalling the scene when Andrew had caught Scarlett and another man in bed.
Instinctively, he turned to the tightly closed private room door. Andrew, eyes bloodshot like an enraged beast, kicked the door open.
Ryan followed, reluctant to look inside. The earlier scene with Scarlett still vivid in his mind her tangled with another man, both screaming and scrambling to dress when they had burst in.
However, as Ryan entered behind Andrew, he was dumbfounded. And so was Andrew, whose handsome face showed sheer astonishment.
The room was in disarray dishes scattered on the floor, chairs overturned, and even the curtains torn down. Isabella was half-squatting on the ground, her clothes intact but her hair disheveled. She was using the curtains to tie James to a chair. James, head drooping and face bloodied, was unconscious.
Hearing the noise, Isabella looked up and saw Andrew and Ryan at the door. She waved them over. “You’re just in time. Come help me.”
She was still struggling with the curtains, unable to tie them securely.
Andrew and Ryan stood frozen.
The next moment, Isabella realized Andrew was there, and she was saved. She stumbled to her feet, crying as she threw herself into Andrew’s arms, pitifully saying, “Andrew, you’re finally here. I was almost assaulted.”
Andrew: “…”
Ryan: “…”
Ryan glanced at the tightly bound, unconscious James, thinking: Who’s assaulting whom? Poor Mr. James looks pitiful.
Isabella leaned against Andrew’s chest, breathing in his strong masculine scent, which ignited the fire within her again, burning hotter than before.
“Andrew, I’m so hot. I feel awful,” she whimpered, tugging at her clothes.
Andrew held her tighter, shielding her with his body, and glanced at Ryan.
Ryan, understanding, nodded knowingly.
Isabella had been drugged and had held on admirably. Now that Andrew was here, he’d want to help her.
“I’ll clear the place immediately,” Ryan said, lifting James, still bound to the chair, and moving towards the door. Before leaving, he reminded Andrew, “Boss, this is someone else’s place. Take it easy with Luna…”
“Get out!” Andrew growled.
Ryan immediately dragged James out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him. He also instructed two men to stand guard outside.
As the door closed, Isabella completely lost control, throwing herself at Andrew and frantically tearing at his clothes. Andrew found himself in a disheveled state, feeling as if she were about to take him by force.
“Isabella, take it easy,” he tried to soothe her, worried she might hurt herself in her haste.
Isabella, her eyes red with frustration, thought angrily: Easy for you to say! You’re not the one who’s been drugged and suffering!
She kissed him chaotically on the neck, pushing him onto the solid wood bed behind them. Andrew’s back hit the cold bed frame, and he frowned, attempting to get up, but Isabella pushed him down again.
“Andrew, stay still!” she demanded, climbing on top of him and forcefully ripping open his shirt…
Outside the room, Ryan’s two men stood guard like sentinels, their faces flushed as they exchanged awkward glances.
In the adjacent private room, Ryan was interrogating the waiter, who was on his knees. The restaurant owner had also been summoned.
“Mr. Ryan, what an honor to have you here. I apologize for any oversight. Please forgive us,” the restaurant owner fawned, bowing repeatedly.
Ryan, holding a cigarette between his fingers and exhaling a thin cloud of smoke, smirked and said, “Mr. Toren, I hear this is your establishment. Your dog here caused quite a commotion, almost biting my boss’s woman. What do you propose we do about this?”
With that, Ryan lifted his foot and kicked the waiter’s shoulder, causing him to stumble and start crying in fear.
Seeing this, Toren also kicked the waiter, fuming. This foolish lackey had dared to offend the Turner family’s people.
“Boss, boss, help me!” The waiter clung to Toren’s leg, crying miserably.
“What are you crying about? Just confess what you did, and Mr. Ryan might spare your worthless life,” Toren snapped, kicking him away in disgust.
The waiter, already a small-time errand boy, was scared out of his wits. Sobbing, he confessed everything.
“This morning, Mr. James called to book a private room. At that time, Mr. Ormsby was eating here. He’s a regular, so he asked me a few questions, and I told him. Mr. Ormsby said this Mr. James was his friend and asked me to reserve the room with the wooden bed on the first floor. Then he paid me to drug their food. He said it was an aphrodisiac to help them get a good night.”
“Huh, so you were just being a good Samaritan? Should I give you a medal?” Ryan grabbed the waiter by the collar and lifted one of his arms. “Did you take the money with this hand?”