Chapter 30
Izzy sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small duffel bag she’d packed.
A few tops, jeans, underthings, her phone charger, her meager toiletries, the journal she hadn’t written in for two weeks, and a worn sweatshirt from college that somehow still comforted her.
It felt strange to pack like this, not for a trip, not for a vacation, but to run - again.
Not that she was truly running. Mitch had made that clear. They were being strategic. She just hated how it felt.
She zipped the bag and stood, moving to the window.
Mitch was in the other room on the phone again, probably with Jayson or Chief Fielding.
She could hear the edge in his voice, the way his calm dropped into that deeper register whenever he felt things closing in.
Not the sexy richness of his voice when he made love to her. That voice she loved.
Outside, the street was still. Peaceful even. But it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt like the stillness before a storm. No birds chirped, no animals scurried around playing. Stillness as if even the wildlife knew there was trouble afoot. Wasn't it said they knew it before humans?
Her hand went to her stomach, not from nausea, but from nerves. She hadn’t felt this unsettled since the morning after her parents’ accident. That same dread was building again, only this time it wasn’t grief, it was fear. And anger.
She wasn’t just scared of Noah. She was furious. Furious that he’d made her shop feel unsafe. That he’d turned a place filled with light and laughter and eucalyptus into something she had to escape from. That he watched her like she owed him something.
And underneath that fury was something else, a cold certainty.
This wouldn’t end until someone made it end.
The bedroom door creaked open behind her. She turned to see Mitch leaning against the frame, his eyes on her duffel bag.
“All set?”
She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Any updates?”
He crossed the room. “Jayson’s coordinating with Fielding now. A uniform is en route to stake out Noah’s apartment. He’s not there right now, though.”
“Where is he?” she asked, the hairs on her arms rising.
Mitch shook his head. “No confirmed location. That’s why we’re getting out of here. If he’s watching you, I want to make sure he sees nothing for a while.”
“So he’ll be the one chasing shadows,” she said quietly.
“Exactly.”
He held out his hand, and she took it. He tugged her gently to him and rested his forehead against hers.
“This is temporary, Iz. Just long enough to let Fielding and Jayson lock this down. We won’t be gone long.”
“I believe you,” she whispered.
She didn’t just believe him. She believed in him.
They started toward the door, and she halted. "Mitch." Her stomach tightened.
He stopped and turned to her. "It's strategic."
She shook her head. "Something just occurred to me. The birds aren't singing. There's no movement outside, like just before a major storm rolls in. The animals know. Listen, the birds aren't chattering outside."
Mitch shook his head. "Izzy, what in the hell does that have to do with us leaving?"
"They know something's up. You said you don't know where Noah is. What if he's out there, waiting for us to leave the security of the building? He'll have the jump on us."
Mitch stared into her eyes for a long time. She could see the moment he realized she could be on to something. He moved to the window and cracked it open, just a bit, and listened. The silence was deafening.
He cranked the window closed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped a number and held the phone to his ear, the entire time his eyes barely left hers.
"Hey, Trey. Do you have someone who can come out to the Barracks and look around for Noah? Izzy has a terrible feeling, and I'm in sync with her on this one."
He waited a beat, then responded. "Thank you. We'll be here."
She took a deep breath. He believed her. At a minimum, he was willing to play this out and see if she was right. That was so much better than patting her on the head and telling her she had an active imagination. She let out the breath she'd been holding, not sure which way he'd take this.
Instead, he pulled her to his body for a long hug.
He rested his head on the top of hers, and his strong arms wrapped her in his cocoon and made her feel safe and loved, and valuable.
She wanted him to feel the same from her, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and spread her hands open to cover as much of him as she could.
They stood that way for some time. Until her heart settled and she stopped shaking.
She pulled away slightly. "Thank you."
He kissed her lips and smiled at her. "Thank you. Thank you for being intuitive. Thank you for being you."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Mitch, I..."
His phone rang. She saw reluctance in his eyes; he wanted to hear her. She wanted him to hear her thoughts. Her feelings.
"DeMario...Hang on."
He tapped the phone so the speaker came on. "Go ahead, you're on speaker."
"This is Trey Fielding. We have people looking in the woods around the perimeter of the Barracks. Stay inside until I let you know it's safe."
Izzy looked into Mitch's eyes. He replied. "Will do. Let me know if you need me to help you search."
"Roger that."
The call ended, and Mitch glanced out the window once again, then motioned with his head toward the living room. "Let's hang out here. We can open the blinds and watch from the sofa.”
Izzy curled into the corner of the sofa, her duffel bag beside her like a lifeline.
Mitch stood by the window, hands on his hips, gaze flicking between the tree line and the street beyond.
The blinds were half-open now, letting in the late afternoon sun, but every shadow outside looked suspicious. Every movement made her pulse skip.
Mitch hadn’t spoken much since the call. He was locked in that internal mode she was beginning to recognize, where his body stilled and his mind spun with possibilities. She didn’t interrupt. She was doing her own mental calculations, too.
Unable to wait any longer, she asked, “Do you think he’s really out there?”
“I don’t know,” Mitch said, not looking away from the window. “But you were right. It’s too still.”
She nodded. Her fingers dug into the soft cushion. “It’s not just paranoia?”
“No.” His voice was flat. “It’s instinct.”
A minute passed. Then two.
The silence grew thick.
And then…
A sharp knock echoed from the back door.
Izzy jumped. Her breath caught in her throat as Mitch spun toward the kitchen, one hand already going to the small holster at his hip.
“That door leads to the private garage,” he said quietly, moving silently toward it. “No one uses that entrance but me.”
Her stomach dropped. “You don’t think...”
A second knock. Slower this time. More deliberate.
Mitch held a finger to his lips and moved to the security panel. He pulled up the garage feed. Izzy came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.
The grainy footage showed a man standing just outside the garage’s side door.
Noah.
He wasn’t wearing his uniform. Just dark jeans and a hoodie. His posture wasn’t aggressive, just… patient. Like he knew he was being watched and didn’t care. He knocked again, slower this time, as if they’d simply missed him the first two times.
Izzy’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“He found us,” she whispered.
Mitch didn’t respond. His hand hovered near the security panel.
On the screen, Noah bent slightly and placed something on the stoop, something white.
A moment later, he turned and walked out of frame, toward the tree line.
“Do we follow him?” she asked.
“No,” Mitch said tightly. “Not yet.”
He tapped a number on his phone. “Fielding. We’ve got eyes on Noah. He just showed up at my garage door. Dropped something and walked off. Southbound on foot into the woods.”
Izzy wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the frozen screen where the feed had paused. The white object, now clearly a single envelope, sat like a time bomb.
“We’re dispatching now,” Fielding said through the phone. “Don’t touch the package. Stay inside. Officers will collect it.”
“Copy.” Mitch ended the call and turned to her. “That’s it. We’re leaving. Now.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
Mitch pulled a second duffel from the closet and grabbed his go bag from the entryway cabinet. “You take the front passenger seat. Stay low. I’ll drive.”
He reached for her hand as they stepped to the door, that fierce protectiveness in his grip steadying her nerves.
They didn’t speak again until they were on the road, the condo behind them, the envelope left unopened. Whatever message Noah had left them, they weren’t going to wait around to read it.
Izzy looked over at Mitch as the trees blurred past outside the window. His jaw was tight. His eyes forward.
“Where are we going?” she asked softly.
“A place Jayson and I set up a while back. Out near the state forest. Quiet. Secure. No one knows about it but us.”
She reached across the console, found his hand, and gripped it tightly. “Okay.”
Mitch didn’t look at her, but he squeezed back. Then he tapped the button on his steering wheel, and the phone in the truck rang.
"Hey, where are you?"
" Izzy and I are out of the condo. Noah was too close for comfort. Let me know when Fielding finds him. We're headed to the shack."
"Okay. I'll boot up the additional security out there for you."
"Thanks."
The call ended, and in that silence between them, she knew two things: they were safe, for now.
And she was in love with Mitch DeMario. It hit her like a rock. These mixed-up feelings she had were feelings of love, and they felt mixed up because she didn't recognize them. She did now.