Chapter 48 Amanda has a body count. Probably.
AMANDA HAS A BODY COUNT. PROBABLY.
CAL
I take a hard turn, tires screeching as I cut through the last intersection before the warehouse. My knuckles are white on the wheel, my heart hammering against my ribs, my mind laser-focused on one thing—getting to Izzy.
Amanda grips the handle of the door, looking entirely too composed for what’s about to go down.
“How do you know where she is?” she asks, tone laced with suspicion.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even try to lie.
“I hacked her phone a while ago,” I say, voice flat. “I’ve known where she is at all times since I met her.”
Amanda hums. “Huh.”
That’s it.
Just huh.
I glance at her. “That’s all you have to say?”
She shrugs, casual as hell. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little insane and wildly possessive, but let’s be real—I’ve been wondering if you were some kind of stalker since day one. You’re just proving me right. I love being right.”
I roll my eyes.
Under her breath, she mutters, “It’s also kinda hot.”
I ignore that.
We pull up to the warehouse, an old industrial building at the far edge of the docks. The area is deserted; it’s the perfect kind of place for criminals to conduct business without interruptions.
Amanda reaches for the door handle.
I slap a hand on her arm. “Wait.”
She freezes. “What?”
“We can’t just rush in. We don’t know where she is. Running in blind is a great way to get ourselves killed.”
Amanda’s clearly itching to move, but she nods.
I take a breath, reach for my phone, and open the one function I told myself I wouldn’t ever use.
The live audio and video feed from Izzy’s phone.
Amanda’s eyes widen as she watches me tap into the stream. “Oh, you didn’t just hack her phone.” She whistles. “You like, hacked her phone.”
I don’t respond.
I press play.
At first, it’s nothing but muffled sounds. The rustling of fabric. Distant voices.
But one voice cuts through.
Male.
Familiar.
I frown, turning up the volume.
Amanda’s face twists into a sneer.
“That’s Evan,” she hisses.
I whip my head toward her. “You sure?”
She scoffs. “I’ve heard that asshole talk enough times to know, yes, that is definitely him.”
Fucking hell.
I listen harder, but I still can’t pinpoint her exact location. Some kind of office, maybe? Somewhere enclosed.
It’s enough to guide our search.
I slide my gun from my holster, checking the magazine. Amanda does the same.
I glance at her. “You ever cleared a building before?”
Amanda shoots me a seriously? look while chambering a round. “Yes.”
I raise a brow. “You know, you’re full of surprises.”
“Trust me, Callahan,” she says, voice smug. “I’ve got layers.”
I nod once. “I take point. You cover me. We clear as we go. Shoot for the legs. Easier to handle clean up legally and that way they can't follow.”
She nods.
I look back at the warehouse.
Time to get my girl.
“Let’s go.”
***
The warehouse is eerily empty.
No lookouts. No guards. Just rows of crates, shelves stacked high with stolen goods—luxury handbags, high-end electronics, jewelry. They’ve been running this operation for a while.
Amanda moves ahead of me, covering the left side as I take the right.
She’s quiet. Efficient. Smooth.
And, fuck me, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I don’t know what kind of past she has, but I’m starting to think I seriously underestimated her. She moves like someone trained. Someone used to clearing spaces and handling weapons.
Sleeper agent.
Fucking noted.
We advance, sweeping each section of the warehouse. Every turn, every blind corner, I expect to run into someone, but there’s nothing. Just silence.
Until we hear it.
Voices.
Amanda signals to me, pointing toward a door at the far end of the warehouse. I nod, pressing forward.
As we get closer, the voices become clearer.
Not just Evan.
Izzy.
She’s yelling at him, voice full of fire. That’s not good. Fuck, Izzy. She shouldn’t be doing that. Shouldn’t be goading him. But of course she is. She’s fearless. She’s reckless. She’s the strongest woman I know. And right now?
She’s in so much fucking danger.
We reach the door, flattening against the wall beside it.
Now we can hear everything.
“I am not helping you, Evan,” Izzy spits, her voice firm. “I don’t care what you do to me. I would rather die than let you use me for this.”
A long pause.
Then Evan’s voice, darker, nastier than I’ve ever heard it.
“You will do this,” he growls, “or you will die right now.”
Amanda meets my eyes, nods once.
We don’t wait.
We don’t hesitate.
We move.
I raise my boot and kick the fucking door in.
The second the door slams open, chaos erupts.
Izzy’s bound to a chair in the middle of the room, hands tied behind her back.
Evan’s in front of her, a gun in one hand, the other curled into a fist like he was about to hit her.
Not a fucking chance.
But before I can move—
Amanda does.
She launches herself at Evan like a goddamn panther, grabbing his arm, twisting his wrist so fast and hard that the gun clatters to the floor. And then, in a move straight out of a fucking kung fu movie, she takes him down.
A spin. A kick. A pivot.
And then she’s got him pinned, her thighs locked around his neck and shoulders, his arms trapped in a way that no matter how much he struggles, he’s not getting free.
And just to add insult to injury?
Her bright pink gun is pressed squarely against his temple.
I would be impressed if I wasn’t so fucking focused on Izzy.
I grab my knife, cutting through the zipties at her wrists.
She sucks in a breath, flexing her fingers as soon as she’s free. I grab her hands, gently, turning them over, inspecting them.
Cuts.
Bruises.
Marks that don’t belong on her.
Marks that I wasn’t here to stop.
Rage surges inside me, but I push it down. Because right now, she is all that matters.
“Izzy.” My voice is careful. “Are you okay?”
She meets my eyes, and fuck.
She’s not just okay.
She’s furious.
A deep-seated, visceral rage burns in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says, but there’s murder in her tone.
I believe her.
I believe her completely.
But still, I tuck a hand under her chin, tilt her face up, searching. Just to be sure. Just to see if there’s any fear.
There isn’t.
I squeeze her hand, then turn to Evan, still struggling beneath Amanda.
I grab the rope he used to tie Izzy up and yank it forward.
“Let him go,” I tell Amanda. “I’ve got him.”
She nods, pressing the barrel of her gun into Evan’s skull before finally releasing him.
I twist the rope around his wrists tight, securing him to one of the rusted metal poles in the center of the room. He groans as I wrench it a little harder than necessary.
“Sit tight,” I growl.
I turn back to Amanda, who is now face-to-face with Izzy.
And that’s when it hits Izzy.
Her eyes widen as she takes in Amanda.
Her slightly smudged mascara. The dead serious look on her face. And most importantly—
The fucking pink gun still in her hand.
“Wait—WHAT?” Izzy sputters, looking between me and Amanda. “Why are you here? And why the fuck do you have a pink gun?”
Amanda cocks a hip. “Why wouldn’t I have a pink gun?”
Izzy stares at her. Blinks. Then rubs her temples.
“You know what? Actually? This strangely makes sense to me.”
Amanda grins, shoving the gun back in her purse.
I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “Amanda, take Izzy to the car. Call 911. I need a minute alone with our friend here.”
But this time?
It’s not Amanda who argues.
It’s Izzy.
She stands, stepping closer, her breath still coming fast, her body still radiating pure, unfiltered fury.
“Wait,” she says, her voice calm but deadly. “I need to do something first.”
Amanda and I exchange a glance.
I nod, stepping aside, watching.
Izzy turns to Evan. Her whole body is loose, but I know better.
She’s not relaxed.
She’s dangerous.
Evan sneers. “What the fuck are you—”
Izzy punches him.
Hard.
His head snaps to the side. Blood spurts from his nose.
He grunts, groaning in pain, but Izzy is not done.
Not even close.
She leans in. “You thought you could ruin me?” she whispers, her tone pure venom. “That you could control me? That you could manipulate me into being some tool for your pathetic fucking crime ring?”
Evan’s breathing hard now, struggling against the ropes, but she keeps going.
“You spent years grooming me, trying to break me, trying to mold me into your perfect little pawn.” She lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “And you thought you were so fucking smart.”
She leans in closer. “But look at you now.”
Evan growls, jerking against the ropes.
Izzy?
She just steps back.
Turns to me.
And lifts her chin.
“I’m ready to go now.”
If I didn’t already love this woman, I would now.
Amanda grabs at Izzy’s wrist. “Let’s go, rage queen.”
I watch them leave, my chest aching with pride.
And then?
Then it’s just me and Evan.
And he is about to experience a very different side of me.