Chapter 3
VICTORIA
The precinct was quieter than usual, the late afternoon lull settling over the bullpen like a heavy fog. Phones still rang, keyboards still clattered, but the usual frenetic energy had dimmed—officers and detectives either out in the field or dragging themselves through paperwork.
Victoria sat at her desk, fingers steepled under her chin, staring at the open case file in front of her but not really seeing it.
Instead, her mind kept circling back to Isabel Torres.
Dammit.
Victoria prided herself on being a professional.
Always. She’d spent her entire career cultivating that reputation—the kind of captain who was respected, a little feared, but never questioned.
She followed the rules. She kept a cool head.
She didn’t let personal emotions or distractions interfere with the job.
And yet somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, Isabel Torres had managed to wedge herself under her skin like a splinter she couldn’t ignore.
Victoria exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temple.
It wasn’t just that Torres was sharp—though she was, irritatingly so.
It wasn’t even that she’d been right to push on questioning the gala staff.
That was what good detectives were supposed to do, and Victoria had to begrudgingly admit that Isabel had an instinct for finding cracks in the foundation.
She noticed things others overlooked, challenged assumptions, challenged Victoria—and it was hard not to respect that.
But that wasn’t the part bothering her.
The part bothering her was the way it felt when Isabel did it.
The way she held Victoria’s gaze, completely unfazed. The way she leaned in when she pushed, voice dropping just slightly, like she knew exactly how to get under her skin. The way her smirk lingered a beat too long, as if she was enjoying their little battles.
Victoria clenched her jaw, sitting back in her chair.
She wasn’t the type to entertain flirtation at work. Ever.
She had never once, in all her years in law enforcement, flirted with a coworker, much less a subordinate.
She’d seen how that played out—messy, reckless, career-ruining.
She’d watched colleagues spiral over workplace relationships, watched them let bad judgment destroy good careers. It wasn’t worth it.
And yet…
Her fingers tapped against the desk.
Isabel was thirty-seven. Nearly twenty years younger. And she acted as if she had all the time in the world to push Victoria’s buttons.
It was irritating.
And worse, it was working.
Victoria exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Focus.
They had bigger things to deal with.
She flipped the case file closed and pushed back from her desk, rising to her feet. There was no room for distraction—not when they were about to set up one of the most delicate operations of the case so far.
She strode out of her office, scanning the bullpen until she spotted Darcy Collins by the whiteboard, reviewing some notes with a couple of officers.
“Collins,” Victoria called, crossing the room. “Let’s go over the setup for the meeting.”
Darcy turned, nodding once before addressing the other officers. “You heard the captain. Let’s move.”
They filed into the conference room, where the case board was already covered in photographs—Chloe Harper, the gala venue, the black SUV that had disappeared into the night. In the center of it all was a new addition: Daniel Keene and an empty placeholder for the contact he was supposed to meet.
Victoria grabbed a marker and underlined Keene’s name. “He’s our linchpin right now. He’s agreed to set up a meeting with the man who paid him, claiming there’s an issue with payment. This is our best shot at drawing someone out.”
She turned to Collins. “I want a controlled environment. We don’t know how cautious this contact is, but I don’t want to spook them before we even have eyes on them.”
Collins nodded, her arms crossed. “Keene suggested a parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse. Quiet enough to avoid attention but not abandoned enough to set off alarm bells.”
Victoria considered that. “It’s workable. Snipers on the rooftops?”
“Already working on it,” Collins confirmed. “We’ll have two sharpshooters positioned at opposite angles, full sightlines on Keene and the contact. Unmarked vehicles will be stationed on both exit routes to block them in if necessary.”
Victoria tapped the marker against her palm, thinking. “Undercover team?”
Collins smirked. “I assume you want Torres on this?”
Victoria’s grip tightened on the marker.
That was the problem with Collins. She noticed everything.
“She’s the one who backed Keene into a confession,” Victoria said smoothly. “She understands his tells. If he starts to panic or shift his story, she’ll catch it before he blows the whole thing.”
Collins nodded, though there was something knowing in her expression that Victoria chose to ignore. “All right. Torres goes in as backup. I’ll put Sampson on comms, running surveillance from a nearby van.”
Victoria exhaled, satisfied. This was what she needed. A plan. A structure. Control.
The case was taking shape. The pieces were falling into place. Now she just had to make sure that nothing—and no one—knocked them off course.
Victoria adjusted the earpiece in her ear as she parked the SUV a block away from the warehouse. The meeting was supposed to happen in the abandoned lot just beyond it, but something felt off.
The whole area was too quiet.
She scanned the perimeter as Isabel climbed out of the passenger seat, stretching her arms slightly, her movements easy and unconcerned—as if she wasn’t about to step into a potential trap.
Victoria frowned. “Something’s wrong.”
Isabel smirked, resting a hand on her hip. “You always this optimistic?”
Victoria shot her a look, but Isabel just shrugged. “Relax, Cap. That’s what we have backup for.”
“I don’t rely on backup. I rely on my own damned judgment,” Victoria muttered, her eyes still sweeping the scene.
Isabel sighed dramatically. “And yet, here we are. Together. At an abandoned warehouse. Alone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me alone in a dark, secluded—”
Victoria turned sharply. “Torres.”
Isabel grinned. “I’m just saying, there are easier ways to—”
“Move.”
Isabel chuckled but obeyed, stepping up to the warehouse’s rusted metal door. She pressed her back against the wall beside it, her playful demeanor shifting as she scanned the area with sharp, practiced eyes. “All right. What’s the play?”
Victoria took a steady breath. Focus. Not on Torres. Not on whatever the hell was brewing between them. “Keene’s supposed to make contact here. We’re early. Let’s sweep the perimeter before committing to entry.”
Isabel nodded, unholstering her weapon. “Lead the way, Captain.”
Victoria ignored the way that title rolled off Isabel’s tongue—too familiar, too teasing, too…something—and took the lead, moving cautiously along the edge of the warehouse. The air was thick with dust and the scent of rusting metal, the distant hum of the city feeling miles away.
They reached the back entrance—another metal door, slightly ajar.
Victoria met Isabel’s gaze.
“Creepy abandoned building 101,” Isabel murmured. “Door’s open, means it’s a trap.”
Victoria exhaled. “Let’s spring it.”
They stepped inside.
The warehouse was cavernous, dimly lit by streaks of late afternoon light filtering through shattered skylights. Stacks of wooden pallets and rusted-out machinery created pockets of deep shadows, places for people to hide.
And there was a lot of space for hiding.
Victoria’s stomach tightened.
“Keene?” she called out, her voice steady.
Nothing.
Isabel moved a few steps ahead, her gun raised, her eyes sharp. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Victoria was about to agree when the first shot rang out.
She barely had time to react before she was diving for cover, dragging Isabel down behind a stack of rusted barrels just as gunfire erupted from the upper level. Bullets ricocheted off metal, the sharp ping ping ping ringing in her ears.
“Motherfu—” Isabel hissed, pressing back against the barrels as another hail of bullets forced them lower.
“Ambush,” Victoria growled, pressing her hand to her earpiece. “Collins! Shots fired! It’s a trap! Where’s our damned backup?!”
Static.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Their comms were jammed.
Isabel’s eyes widened slightly as she adjusted her position. “Oh, this is bad.”
“No shit,” Victoria muttered.
A voice called out from the shadows. “Captain Langley. Drop your weapons, and we may let you walk out of here.”
Victoria’s grip on her gun tightened. She knew that voice. Natalia Voss. Mid-level enforcer for the Iron Fang Syndicate.
So it was them.
She exchanged a glance with Isabel, who shook her head, mouthing: No way in hell.
Victoria agreed. She peeked out just as a figure moved on the catwalk above. One. Two. Three shooters. Maybe more.
She took a breath. Calculate. React.
“We surrender,” she called out.
Isabel stiffened beside her, her eyes snapping to Victoria in disbelief.
Then Victoria whispered under her breath, “Cover me.”
Before Isabel could respond, Victoria sprang up from cover, firing twice—one shot taking out the nearest overhead light, the other striking the closest shooter in the shoulder.
The warehouse plunged into semi-darkness.
Chaos erupted.
Gunfire tore through the space, sparking against metal. Victoria felt Isabel press close against her as they moved, keeping low, dodging between cover.
“I knew you didn’t mean that,” Isabel muttered, her breath slightly ragged.
“You’re welcome,” Victoria shot back, reloading quickly.
One of the gunmen vaulted over the railing, landing just a few feet away. Isabel reacted fast, turning and firing before he could get a shot off. He crumpled to the ground.
“Two left,” Victoria counted, scanning the upper level. Isabel inhaled sharply, pressing her free hand to her bicep.
Victoria’s stomach dropped. “You’re hit.”