Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
At the first red light, I glance around with increasing desperation—then my gaze snags on a familiar shape up ahead. Isabel’s car is three lanes over, waiting for the same light. She’s hunched over the steering wheel, likely trying to avoid being noticed.
“Oh, I see you,” I mutter under my breath. Relief floods me, but it’s quickly replaced by adrenaline. The light switches to green, and she guns it. So do I.
She tries to weave in and out of the midday traffic. I do the same, horn blaring as I swerve around a slow-moving SUV. This is no time to be gentle—she’s essentially a high-value target, and every second she’s on the open road is another opportunity for whoever’s threatening her to make a move.
We hit a stretch of open road, and she floors it. My car roars as I give chase. I’m leaning forward, knuckles white on the steering wheel, eyes flicking between her vehicle and the road ahead. If she thinks I’m letting her slip away, she’s underestimating me.
We blow through one more light just as it turns red. My stomach tightens—I hate being this reckless, but I’ve got no choice. I nearly clip the back of a truck changing lanes, but I manage to glide around it, adrenaline spiking. Up ahead, Isabel’s brake lights flash, and her car swerves onto the shoulder. She’s pulling over. Finally.
I slam on my own brakes and yank the wheel, grinding to a stop behind her. The engine’s still rumbling when I throw the door open and stomp to her window. My blood is still racing through my veins, part fury, part relief. Relief that she’s safe—furious that she pulled this stunt in the first place.
She rolls down the window just enough for me to see her glaring face. “Lincoln, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What am I—?” I choke back a bitter laugh. “You disappeared out a bathroom window and tore off like you’re in some Hollywood heist. I’m doing my damn job and bringing you back in.”
She has the audacity to look offended, like I’m the one at fault. “I told you, I have a lead. We could catch the person threatening me if we just—”
“Stop,” I cut her off, voice vibrating with anger. “I don’t care if you’ve got the entire FBI on speed dial. My job is to keep you safe. That means no car chases through the city while you play detective. Understand?”
Her eyes blaze. “I am not playing detective. This is my life we’re talking about.”
“And Dean hired me to protect that life.” My frustration is at a boiling point. I lean my forearm on the car’s roof, trying to calm the roar in my ears. “Get out of the car. We’re doing this my way.”
She shakes her head defiantly, lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t just boss me around.”
“Actually,” I snap back, “I can, because that’s what your brother is paying me for. Now either you follow me back to the office and drop off this car, or I’ll park my SUV right behind you, and we can sit here all day if that’s what you want.”
She slumps against her seat, scowling. “I don’t believe this.”
I take a moment, staring her down through the open window, both of us breathing heavily from the chase and the argument. She is, without a doubt, the most stubborn, infuriating woman I’ve ever met—and the fact that she’s right about not wanting to hide away all day doesn’t help. Still, I can’t let her blow off protocol. Not when her life’s on the line.
“I get it,” I say, my tone dropping from anger to something less combative. “You’re not the type to sit around and do nothing. But you’re not invincible, Isabel. Whoever’s threatening you could be watching your every move. Going off alone is reckless.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s fighting a headache. I notice her hands are shaking just slightly, and my anger dims a bit. She’s scared, even if she’d never say so out loud. Isabel’s always trying to prove she can do everything on her own.
“Look,” I continue, quieter now, “we’ll go back to the office so you can leave your car in a secure location. Then we’ll drive to the safe house in my SUV. Once we’re there—out of immediate danger—we can go over your leads. Together. We’ll come up with a plan that won’t get you killed. Deal?”
She’s silent for a few seconds, staring at the steering wheel like it might reveal some magical alternative. Finally, she looks up at me. “That’s your compromise? We go to your secret hideout and then maybe I get to track down this creep?”
I let out a slow breath. “If it checks out, yes. I promise not to leave you out of the loop.”