Page 2

Isabel

Lincoln’s arm is a solid barrier beside my head, pinning me gently—yet unmistakably—to the wall. My heart thunders in my chest, and not just from the adrenaline of the moment. His fierce brown eyes sear into mine, and his presence is overwhelming in every possible way. Physically, mentally… even emotionally, though I’d rather die than admit that part out loud.

I can still feel the echo of his earlier words reverberating in the hallway: “I don’t care if you think you can look after yourself or not. I was given the job to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do. Understood?”

Understood? My jaw tightens. My pride flares, and I want to shove him away just to prove I can. But at the same time, some infuriating part of me is hyper-aware of his body so close to mine, the warmth radiating off him, the protective glint in his eyes. I hate that it makes me feel…safe.

I force a sarcastic smile. “Loud and clear, Sergeant,” I say. I don’t miss the faint twitch in his jaw at my nickname for him.

He lowers his arm with deliberate care, like he knows I’m a powder keg ready to explode. “Good. Then let’s go talk to Dean and figure out the plan.”

I press my lips together, refusing to let him see that he’s unnerved me in any way—though it’s obvious he has. Instead, I toss my hair over my shoulder and straighten my blouse, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Fine,” I say, and push off the wall, pretending my knees aren’t a little shaky from our confrontation.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet now. A few of the other guys—Ranger, Boone, Orion—dispersed the second they saw me storm over to Lincoln. Cowards. They probably didn’t want any part of my brother’s “protect Isabel” plan, especially once they realized how much I’m fighting it.

I catch Lincoln’s sidelong glance. He’s still keyed up, too; I can sense the tension in every line of his body. The worst part is that I know Lincoln is truly concerned for me. That’s who he is—a protector. He was in the military, for crying out loud. But I can’t help resenting the fact that my brother’s solution to me being threatened is to stick me under lock and key. If I wanted to be coddled, I’d move back home and let Dean hire me a babysitter, not his best operative.

We step into the conference room, where Dean is sitting at the head of the table, flipping through files with the Maddox Security logo stamped on the front. He looks up the moment we enter. His gray eyes flick between us, and he clears his throat like he can practically taste the tension in the air.

“Everything settled?” he asks, sliding a hand over his neatly cropped hair.

I snort. “Hardly.”

Lincoln shoots me a warning look, but I ignore it. There’s a small, guilty twinge in my gut—I know Dean’s only trying to protect me because he cares. I also know that if some faceless creep is sending me threats, it could be serious. Still, the last thing I want is to be shipped off to some remote cabin or secret bunker while the rest of the team tries to catch whoever’s messing with me.

Dean rubs the bridge of his nose. “Isabel, I know you’re not thrilled about this, but?—”

I cut him off, frustration evident in every syllable. “Don’t you get it, Dean? Someone is threatening me. Threatening me. I’m not just going to tuck my tail between my legs and run away. I want to help.”

Lincoln shifts beside me, crossing his arms over that broad chest. “She’s got a few leads,” he says flatly, “but I told her we should pass them on to you. Then she needs to get someplace safe.”

I level him with a glare. “I can handle a little detective work. I’ve been doing more than pushing papers around here, you know. I got phone records on the number that sent the threats, and I actually have a person of interest.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” He glances at Lincoln in surprise.

Lincoln shrugs. “She neglected to mention that part until now.”

Rolling my eyes, I drop into a seat at the table, my bag slung over my shoulder. “I was going to mention it, okay? I’ve been busy trying to confirm the info before I go spouting off names.”

Dean rubs his jaw, deep in thought. “Let me have the details. We’ll investigate. In the meantime, I need you to go with Lincoln. It’s not safe for you to just stay at your place, especially if your address is compromised.”

My temper flares again. I want to demand proof that my address is truly compromised. But the logical part of my brain knows that if this psycho has threatened me, he probably isn’t going to stop at just sending creepy messages. Even so, it doesn’t mean I have to lie down and do nothing.

“What if we investigate my lead together?” I suggest, glancing between them. “That way I’m not alone, and we can catch this jerk before he tries something worse.”

Lincoln shakes his head, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Absolutely not. My job is to keep you out of harm’s way, and playing detective is just going to put you in the line of fire.”

I fold my arms. “Right. Because sitting on my hands while you guys do all the work keeps me totally safe. There’s no scenario in which the bad guy actually finds me, right?”

Dean stands, a placating hand raised. “All right, that’s enough. Isabel, I’m giving Lincoln point on your security detail. You may have gotten some good intel, and I will absolutely look into it. But for right now, you’re going somewhere safe until we sort this out.”

He sounds so final, and that’s what really stings. “Fine,” I finally say through gritted teeth, hating how resentful I sound. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Lincoln exhales a sigh of relief. “I don’t expect you to be happy. I just expect you to cooperate. Let’s go.”

Before I can argue further, he motions for me to follow him. There’s no use picking another fight—not now, anyway. I haven’t given up on my plan to dig into my suspect, but I’ll have to play it smarter. I stand, ignoring the look of sympathy in Dean’s eyes, and sling my bag higher on my shoulder.

Out in the hallway, Lincoln leads me toward the elevator—probably expecting me to climb into his SUV without complaint. Fat chance. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.

We reach the lobby, where the afternoon sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm light over the polished floors. My heart tugs a little; I’ve spent years here at Maddox Security, building my own reputation as someone who can handle anything thrown her way. Now it feels like I’m being shoved to the sidelines, and I hate it.

Lincoln gestures toward the front doors. “I’ll drive. We’ll stop by your apartment if you need anything else.”

“I came prepared,” I mutter, tapping the bag slung across me. “Dean texted me at six this morning telling me I’d be staying with you. I’ve got my essentials.”

He nods, suspiciously. “Smart.”

Normally, I’d take the compliment, but right now I’m too focused on how I’m going to execute my plan. One thing’s certain: Lincoln is sharp. He’s not going to give me many openings.

We reach the entrance, and I slow my steps. “Uh, before we leave, I need to use the restroom,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

His dark gaze lingers on me, as though he can see right through my ruse. “You’d better not be trying to?—”

“Oh, come on,” I say with an exasperated huff. “I’m just a human being who had two cups of coffee this morning.”

He sighs, gestures down the hall. “All right. But if you’re not out in two minutes, I’m coming in after you.”

I force a playful eye-roll. “Please, that’s the last thing you want to do. No guy willingly enters the women’s bathroom.”

He arches an eyebrow but says nothing, stepping aside so I can slip away.

My heart hammers as I hurry to the bathroom, adrenaline surging. The moment I’m inside, I force a deep breath. It’s an older building, and thankfully, the window in here is big enough for me to squeeze through—at least I hope so.

Tossing my bag to the side, I grip the sink, taking a moment to steady myself. A faint tremor runs through my fingers. Am I really doing this? Running off on my own when a legitimate threat is hanging over my head? My chest tightens. The truth is, I might be an adrenaline junkie, but I’m not reckless. This is about more than just my ego. I need to find whoever is targeting me, not hide away until the danger passes.

I throw my bag onto the windowsill, then haul myself up. The frame scrapes my ribs, and for a second my hips get stuck—but with a muttered curse, I wiggle free and tumble onto the narrow strip of landscaping outside. The rough bark of a decorative shrub catches my hair, and I twist until I’m free. Classy, Isabel. Very graceful.

Wasting no time, I scurry around to the side parking lot, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lincoln hasn’t come storming out after me. The coast is clear—for now.

“Sorry, big guy,” I whisper under my breath, feeling a stab of guilt in my gut. “But you’ll forgive me when I’ve solved this.”

I unlock my car, yank the door open, and toss my bag inside. My heart is still thudding like a jackhammer as I slide in behind the wheel. Every muscle in my body is thrumming with tension, but there’s also a strange sense of exhilaration. This is what I do best—solve problems, track leads, chase the truth.

When the engine roars to life, I allow myself a tiny triumphant grin. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know exactly who it is without looking. Lincoln. He probably discovered the empty bathroom and the open window by now. That’s going to be an interesting conversation.

“Guess I’ll deal with that later,” I mutter, pulling out of the lot.

I can almost picture Lincoln’s furious face as he realizes I’ve slipped away. Despite the guilt nibbling at the edges of my conscience, a part of me is definitely proud that I managed to outsmart him for once. That man is practically unflappable.

As I head toward the highway, I let out a shaky breath. My gut churns with a mix of exhilaration and nerves. I don’t know exactly who’s threatening me, and I have no idea how dangerous they really are, but I do know one thing: I’m not going to live in fear.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance at it. Five missed calls from Lincoln. One from Dean. That’s enough to make my pulse spike a little higher. Still, I press down on the gas, turning onto the open road.

I let the tension loosen from my shoulders as the cityscape slides by. For better or worse, I’m doing this my way. If I have to face Lincoln’s wrath later, so be it. Right now, I have a lead to chase…and a strong desire to prove that I’m more than just Dean Maddox’s little sister.

And maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m hoping that by the time Lincoln catches up with me, he’ll realize I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a Maddox. We don’t go down without a fight.