Chapter 5
VICTORIA
The precinct felt different today. Victoria knew it was in her head—nothing had changed, not really.
The same burnt coffee smell lingered in the air, the same hum of ringing phones and keyboard clicks filled the bullpen.
Officers moved through their tasks with the usual detached efficiency.
And yet, beneath it all, she could feel something shifting. Or maybe she was the one shifting.
She sat at her desk, her pen poised over a case file, but her mind kept slipping. The words blurred. The numbers and names refused to settle into anything useful.
Because she was thinking about last night. Because she was thinking about Torres.
Victoria inhaled slowly, then exhaled through her nose. Control. Focus. She forced her attention back to the paperwork in front of her, determined to wrestle her thoughts into order.
Five minutes passed. Then ten.
She managed to sign off on a patrol schedule before her phone buzzed against the desk. She checked it, already bracing herself.
Not Torres. Collins.
Victoria pressed the call button. “Langley.”
“We may have something,” Collins said, no preamble. “An informant tipped us off to a potential ransom drop location. Abandoned lot on the west side of town. Looks like our guys might finally be making a move.”
Victoria straightened, all thoughts of last night momentarily shoved aside. “You trust the source?”
Collins hesitated. “Enough to check it out.”
Victoria’s fingers tightened around her pen. “Get me the details. I want surveillance in place before we make a move.”
“Already in motion,” Collins confirmed. Then, after a pause, “You want Torres on this?”
A muscle in Victoria’s jaw twitched.
Torres.
The name alone sent a ripple of something unwanted through her.
“She’s on it,” Victoria said, voice clipped. “Brief her when she gets in.”
Collins didn’t say anything at first, then let out a low chuckle. “You know, if you wanted an excuse to put her on another late-night assignment with you, you could’ve just said so.”
Victoria’s grip on the pen nearly snapped it in half. “Get me the damned report, Collins.”
Collins laughed outright this time. “Copy that, Captain.”
Victoria hung up with more force than necessary.
Control.
She needed control.
She spent the next two hours drowning in casework, pretending she had control.
Emails. Surveillance reports. A check-in with forensics.
She moved through it all with the detached efficiency that had earned her a reputation for being unshakable. If anyone noticed the way her jaw was locked tighter than usual, or the way her fingers tapped impatiently against the desk between tasks, they had the sense not to mention it.
But then Jackie Sampson had to go and ruin it.
“You good, Captain?” she asked as she passed her office door, coffee in hand.
Victoria didn’t look up. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sampson lingered in the doorway. “I don’t know. Just seems like you’ve been… tense today.”
Victoria finally met her gaze, her expression unreadable. “You have a report to file, Detective?”
She held up her hands. “All right, all right. Just checking.” She turned to leave but hesitated. “For what it’s worth, I think Torres is good for you.”
Victoria froze.
Sampson didn’t wait for a reply. She just gave a knowing smirk and disappeared down the hallway.
Victoria sat there, staring at the empty doorway, heart hammering against her ribs.
People were noticing.
That was unacceptable.
She shoved back from her desk, pacing the office like a caged animal.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how she operated. She was supposed to be in control, above reproach, untouchable. That was how she’d built her career, how she’d survived in a job that didn’t allow weakness.
And yet—
She could still feel the warmth of Isabel’s gaze from last night. The way she had waited, letting Victoria decide.
And she had decided. She’d walked away.
So why the hell was she still thinking about it?
The precinct felt suffocating. Victoria grabbed her coat and walked out into the bullpen, needing air, space—anything to shake this off.
She made it halfway to the doors when she spotted her.
Torres.
Isabel was leaning against Collins’ desk, mid-conversation, her body language easy and unbothered. She looked every bit like she belonged there, like she’d settled into this job, this city, as if she hadn’t spent the night getting under Victoria’s skin and staying there.
And the worst part?
She saw Victoria. And smirked.
Like she knew.
Victoria turned sharply, heading straight for the exit. She needed control back. She just wasn’t sure she’d ever had it to begin with.
Back in her office, Victoria closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She had two choices.
She could shut this down. Now. Push Isabel away. Rebuild the wall she never should have let crack in the first place.
Or—
She could let this keep happening. Allow Torres to get closer, let whatever was simmering between them boil over into something neither of them could take back.
The idea sent heat curling low in her stomach. She clenched her jaw. No. She was better than this. She had to be.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, she snatched it up immediately.
Collins. The stakeout was happening tonight.
Victoria exhaled slowly. Good. Work. She needed work. She needed anything but this.
Her hands were steady as she replied. I’ll be there. Torres is with me.
She didn’t let herself think about why she typed that. Didn’t let herself question why she wasn’t pushing Isabel away at all.
Victoria had done stakeouts before.
Countless hours spent in surveillance vans waiting, watching, listening. They were predictable. Long. Boring. The kind of assignment that required patience and discipline—both of which she prided herself on.
This one was different.
Because Isabel Torres was in the van with her. And Victoria was losing her goddamned mind.
She sat rigid in the driver’s seat, one hand resting near the radio, her eyes fixed on the abandoned lot ahead.
The ransom drop was scheduled for sometime after midnight according to their informant, but so far nothing.
Just a cracked concrete expanse, a few distant streetlights, and an occasional gust of wind kicking up dust.
Beside her, Isabel stretched her arms above her head, letting out a low, satisfied hum as she leaned back against the seat. The motion pulled her leather jacket tight against her frame, and Victoria did not look.
She stared straight ahead. Did not look.
“I hope whoever set this up appreciates us sitting in a freezing metal box all night,” Isabel muttered, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “Really hope they send us a thank-you card.”
Victoria exhaled slowly. “It’s not that cold.”
“Says the woman built out of pure steel and willpower,” Isabel shot back, flashing her a grin. “Normal people have body heat, Langley. Some of us don’t thrive in emotionally repressed temperatures.”
Victoria definitely didn’t smile. Not even a little.
She adjusted the volume on the surveillance feed, listening to the soft static before switching channels. The rest of the team was stationed nearby in unmarked vehicles, waiting for movement, but so far—nothing.
And that left her alone in a van. With Isabel. For hours.
Fantastic.
Isabel shifted beside her, pulling one knee up onto the seat, turning slightly in Victoria’s direction. “So, tell me, Captain.” Her voice was low, teasing. “How long can you keep up the whole I’m completely unaffected act before you crack?”
Victoria turned to her, slow and deliberate. “I’m not playing a game, Torres.”
Isabel’s smirk deepened. “That’s adorable. You think you’re not.”
Victoria clenched her jaw and turned back to the lot. Patience. Control.
Silence stretched between them for a few moments before Isabel sighed dramatically. “You know, we could at least try to make this interesting.”
Victoria arched a brow. “We’re working.”
“We’re waiting.” Isabel corrected. “And I’m dying of boredom. Come on, Langley, humor me.”
Victoria didn’t respond. So, of course, Isabel kept going.
“All right. How about a game?”
“No.”
“Wow. That was fast.”
Victoria kept her expression neutral. “I’m here to work. Not entertain you.”
Isabel hummed, tapping her fingers against the console. “Okay. No games. Let’s talk, then.”
Victoria sighed. “About what?”
“Tell me something about you I don’t know.”
Victoria gave her a look. “This isn’t a first date, Torres.”
Isabel grinned. “No, but you’re acting like it is, which is honestly more interesting than anything I could’ve hoped for.”
Victoria exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Isabel said, tilting her head, “here we are. In a van. Together. Alone.” She rested her chin on her hand, studying Victoria with that sharp, assessing gaze. “Funny how that keeps happening.”
Victoria’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
She knows exactly what she’s doing.
But Victoria wasn’t playing. Not with this. Not with something that could derail everything she’d built. She could shut this down. Right now. Set a boundary. Remind Isabel exactly where they stood.
And yet—
The words wouldn’t come. Because Isabel’s confidence was infuriatingly attractive. Because every damned thing she said made Victoria’s pulse tick higher. Because some part of her—some reckless, dangerous part—wanted to know what it would feel like to let Isabel push her past the line.
And that was the problem. She wasn’t supposed to want this.
But she did. More than she wanted to admit.
An hour passed. Then another. Victoria had hoped time would settle her nerves, but if anything, the van had gotten smaller.
She was hyper-aware of every movement Isabel made.
The shift of her legs, the way her fingers drummed idly against the console, the heat radiating off her body in the confined space.
At some point, Isabel reached for her phone, her fingers brushing Victoria’s where they rested near the radio. It was nothing. A fleeting touch.
And yet, Victoria felt it everywhere.
Her breath caught. Isabel didn’t move away.
Victoria should have pulled back. She should have. But for some reason, she stayed right there, fingers barely grazing Isabel’s, pulse hammering against her ribs. The air between them thickened.
“Careful, Captain,” Isabel murmured, her voice soft but knowing. “You may give me the wrong idea.”
Victoria forced herself to pull away, turning back to the lot outside. “Focus, Torres.”
Isabel watched her for a long moment, then chuckled under her breath. “You’re really struggling, aren’t you?”
Victoria refused to answer. Because yes. She was struggling.
With the way Isabel smelled—something warm and dangerous. With the way she talked—like she knew Victoria wanted her.
With the fact that right now, she did.
Sometime after two a.m., Isabel stretched again, rolling her shoulders.
“I don’t know how you do this,” she muttered. “Sitting still for this long. Feels like my bones are turning to dust.”
“You get used to it,” Victoria said.
Isabel smirked. “I doubt you’re used to being this close to someone for this long without cracking.”
Victoria shot her a look. “You’re exhausting.”
“And yet,” Isabel murmured, leaning in just slightly, “you’re still here.”
Victoria’s breath hitched.
Too close. Too much.
For a split second, the world narrowed. Isabel’s eyes flicked to her mouth. Victoria’s resolve nearly broke. Then—a radio crackled. They both jerked back, the spell shattering as a voice came through the line.
“Movement near the lot,” Collins’ voice reported. “Unmarked van just pulled in. No visual on the occupants yet.”
Victoria exhaled sharply, gripping the radio. “Copy that. Hold positions.”
She barely registered what she’d said.
Because her pulse was still hammering.
Because she had almost—almost… She refused to finish the thought.
Isabel’s gaze lingered for a second longer, as if she knew exactly what had almost happened. Then she smirked, leaning back into her seat.
“We should do this more often,” she murmured.
Victoria didn’t answer. Because if she did, she wasn’t sure what would come out.