Chapter 11
chapter
eleven
Drake
“Izabel?”
I approached her carefully. She was huddled at the edge of the cot, knees drawn to her chest with her arms around them. I glanced back at Tim and mouthed, What happened?
The analyst hitched his shoulders; worry creased his forehead.
“Iza?”
“I have a headache,” she whispered, voice scratchy.
A glass of water and Advil sat on the small table beside the cot. Obviously, she didn’t trust anyone enough to take it.
“You hooded me.” Brown eyes glared at me.
“Iza—”
“You tranq’d me.”
I had no defense because I did those things.
“You’ve changed.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, lips quivering. “The Drake I knew would never do those things. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.” She rubbed her forehead.
“And I never would,” I gritted. “You were going to hurt yourself fighting me.”
“Why didn’t you blindfold me instead?”
I glanced back at Tim, who’d moved to the far end of the room to give us privacy. I stepped closer to Izabel.
“Because that’s our thing,” I said, voice low. “I didn’t want to taint our memories of something beautiful.”
Her lips twisted into a sneer that made me bristle. “So you decided it was better to scare me than to ruin our silly sex games?”
Silly? I could be an ass and remind her how much she enjoyed being blindfolded, naked, with her hands gripping the brass frame of the bed while I spread her legs and devoured her pussy.
Dammit. I probably shouldn’t have thought of that memory either. Craving her taste was becoming unbearable.
“I didn’t think you’d react that way. I was with you, Iza. You knew I would never let anything hurt you.”
“Don’t you get it? You’re not the man I remember. How many times do I need to tell you? You’re a stranger.”
“Then it’s time to get to know your husband again.” I tried to caress her face, but she jerked away from my touch. I ground my molars, beating back the bitterness and defeat that was threatening to bury me. I nodded to the water and Advil. “Take that and let’s go.”
“Where’s Marcus?” It was as if a cloud lifted from her brain and she grew alert. “What have you done to him? Why did you hurt him?”
“He’s a SEAL. What we did to him was nothing.” At least, nothing compared to Marcus finding out his part in his family’s death.
“You might have gotten him fired.”
“Good!” I stalked out from the confines of the divider. She didn’t immediately follow me, but the slamming of the water glass indicated she’d taken the Advil. Her footsteps echoed behind me before she condemned me with her gaze once more.
“How can you say that? He’s your friend.”
“After this, I’m not so sure. And I mean, it would be good if he was fired because he could do better things.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re recruiting him? Was kidnapping us some kind of test?” Her eyes wandered around our command center, pursing her lips before returning her eyes to mine, waiting for an answer.
“That’s not how it works.” I stepped into the elevator and she hurried in beside me.
“My purse?”
“In my car.”
The sounds of the elevator echoed loudly in our silence. I pulled the scissor gates open just as Marcus, flanked by Viktor and Brick, emerged.
“Marcus!” Izabel cried as she ran toward our friend before I could stop her.
Jealousy stabbed my chest followed by the unexpected fury locking my muscles because if I could’ve moved, I would have yanked her back against me. Viktor recognized the volatility of the situation and inserted himself between Izabel and Harrelson, stopping my wife from reaching Marcus.
“Who the hell are you?” Izabel screeched.
“Your husband’s boss.”
“He’s not my husband.”
Viktor smirked. “I agree.”
Glaring at Viktor over the top of Izabel’s head, I gripped her shoulders and flattened her back against me.
“Are you okay?” She tried to look past the mountain that was Viktor.
“I’m fine, Izzy. Go with Drake.”
“But—”
“Come on. Let’s go.” My hands slid to her upper arms and led her toward the back exit.
“Drake,” Viktor called.
He pointed two fingers to his eyes.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Brick approached us and handed me a hood.
Mutiny was written all over Izabel’s face as her eyes dared me to put the covering over her.
“I have no choice.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
I was beginning to hate those four words with a passion.
And with her eyes cutting right through the heart of me, I put the offending layer over her head and prepared for a hellish night.
“This isn’t the way home,” Izabel said.
“I’m not taking you to your house.”
“What’s going on?”
I removed the hood the second we got on the interstate.
Izabel didn’t freak out or argue this time.
I wondered if I should have warned her the first time that I was hooding her instead of simply throwing the cover over her head.
Admittedly, a wrong move on my part, but it had been instinctive since I’d done it countless times on terrorists we’d captured and brought back to base.
“I can’t take you back until Viktor releases Marcus. The cops might be staking your house and I can’t risk it.”
It was two in the morning and I wasn’t taking any chances.
“So, I’m your prisoner.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “Yup.”
“Can you at least tell me if Marcus’s going to be okay?”
“Such concern for the commander.” I couldn’t keep the bite from my tone.
“He didn’t look okay.”
I clamped my mouth shut because I was afraid I might lash out at her.
I concentrated on driving instead of dealing with a wife who didn’t want to be my wife anymore.
Who showed more concern for someone else other than me, her husband, who she hadn’t seen in three years.
Three years where my every waking moment was thoughts of her.
And each time I closed my eyes to sleep? It was her face I saw.
What a mindfuck.
The silence in the car was choking, and I was relieved to see the exit coming up.
“Drake?”
“Not now,” I bit out.
“Why are you mad?”
“Think on that for a minute.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
Jesus Christ.
She huffed in her seat and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her look out the window.
I resisted the urge to speed down the ramp leading to the house I’d rented, but the surging adrenaline in my system needed its own outlet; I just didn’t know where.
I was afraid I might take it out on Izabel.
Being alone with her was not a good idea at the moment, but I had no choice.
She had to stay out of the public eye and there was no one I trusted to be her security.
The house that Hank found for me was on a thousand-acre rural development.
Horse fences lined the roadway, until, finally, we came upon the stone columns that marked the property entrance.
I was gratified to hear the catch in Izabel’s breathing as we drove through the subdivision.
The full moon was high, and it spilled its light on the sprawling meadows.
A large part of the acreage remained untouched to give the residents privacy and the country-estate flair.
The Escalade turned onto a paved driveway where it stopped in front of an all-brick Georgian house.
“I packed some of your clothes,” I told her.
When I exited the vehicle, Izabel did the same, but her eyes were riveted on the house.
After getting the overnight bags from the back, I slammed the tailgate and walked up beside her.
Landscaping lights illuminated the front of the house and the covered porch.
“Why?” She turned to face me, her eyes suspiciously glassy.
“I wanted to remind you of what we once had.”
“By throwing one of my designs back in my face?”
“That was not my intention.” Her reaction bewildered me. I was at a loss at what to do anymore. Nothing made her happy. Maybe she was right—I’d changed; she’d changed, too.
Frustration constricted my chest. I refused to accept defeat.
I unlocked the heavy door and threw it open. The foyer chandelier was already on and it didn’t take me long to find the other switches to flood the house with light. It had a beautiful interior, one I knew Izabel would appreciate, but she was seething.
“Do you remember what we used to do?” I dropped the bags on the floor and moved into her space.
Not waiting for her answer, I continued, “On the weekends—because my wife was such a workaholic—we’d fill up our coffee mugs and drive to some of your projects.
We’d each point out what we liked and what we wanted to go into our dream house.
” Her eyes grew distant as if remembering.
A telltale smile softened her lips, so I pressed on.
“You lost interest in our routine months before my deployment and I didn’t know why. ”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. I bent over and unzipped one of the duffels and extracted crumpled sheets of vellum.
When she saw what was in my hand, big tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.
“I found this in the trash can of your office,” I said softly. “I checked the date. It was the month I left.” Sorrow clogged the words in my throat, but I got them out. “Three years ago.”
Izabel opened her mouth, and her breath hitched in a soundless cry. Tears fell faster and she shook her head. “You had no right to go through my trash.”
“You lost interest because you’d already designed our dream house?—”
“Stop!” she yelled. “Why don’t you just stop!” Her eyes flared angrily. “We can’t go back to what we used to be?—”
I dropped the ruined plans of the house and grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me why. Why won’t you even try?” I thought of the architect after her. “Is it because of that man?”
“What man?”
“The one who kissed you!”
“Kyle?” Hearing his name snapped the last threads of my control. Rage hazed my vision and, before I realized what I was doing, I grabbed Izabel by her ass. Lifting her, I walked us toward the dining table.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “Put me down!”