Page 103 of Can You Take It?

My eyes narrow, a flash of anger crossing my features. “Don’t talk shit. Nothing gets in the way of my work. If I even had a whiff that Izel killed Liam, I’d be the first to throw her ass in jail. But I know she didn’t.”

I can’t escape the realization that if push comes to shove, I would protect Izel at all costs. Even if it means bending the rules, breaking the law, or pissing off my team.

Colton holds up a USB drive. “You might want to check what’s on this before coming to that conclusion.”

I snatch the USB from his hands, not bothering to mask my irritation, and storm into my office.

I plop down behind my cluttered desk, shoving aside some case files to make room. Plugging in the USB drive, I brace myself for whatever revelation awaits. The video stumbles to life, screeching and flickering like a shitty horror movie. I double-check the USB drive placement; it’s snug and correct. The screen keeps up its erratic dance.

If this thing contains anything that implicates Izel, I’m fucked. Not just professionally, but personally.

The screen finally comes to life, and I see Luna tied to a chair. I nearly jump out of my seat. She's groaning, clearly alive. I wipe the sweat off my brow.

“Oh, you're awake again,” the voice sneers.

A man steps into the frame. It’s Martin.

“Martin,” Luna says. “This is getting old. Can’t you think of a better way to spend your time?”

Martin sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Believe me, I’d rather be anywhere but here. But orders are orders.”

Luna rolls her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “Well, while you’re here, how about some decent conversation? This whole kidnapping thing is so passé.”

They’re talking like they’re bored coworkers stuck in a meeting, not captor and captive. What the fuck is going on?

Martin pulls up a chair and sits across from her, looking almost as tired of this charade as Luna. “You know, you have a point. This isn’t exactly thrilling for me either. So, let’s talk. What’s new in the world of FBI agents these days?”

Luna raises an eyebrow. “How’d you guess?”

He smirks. “Come on, Luna. You think I’m stupid? I know who you are. Special Agent Luna Martinez, FBI.”

“Fair enough. And you’re Martin Montclair, professional pain in the ass. What’s your point?”

“My point is, why are you so interested in the Ghostface Striker case?” Martin leans forward.

Luna sighs. “It’s my job. I chase down the bad guys, and right now, Ghostface Striker is at the top of the list. What do you know about it?”

“More than you, apparently. Maybe I am the Ghostface Striker.”

Luna snorts, shaking her head. “You’re not.”

Martin frowns, clearly not liking being dismissed so easily. “What makes you so sure?”

Luna leans forward as much as her restraints allow, locking eyes with Martin. “Because I know who the Ghostface Striker is. And it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Her eyes suddenly dart to the door. “And speaking of the Ghostface Striker…”

Izel walks into view, and she looks between Luna and Martin. The screen suddenly goes blank.

“No! Fuck!” I slam my fist on the table, desperate for the video to revive. “Come on, come on…”

The screen stays black. My mind races, struggling to make sense of what I just saw. Izel... The Ghostface Striker. It can’t be true. It was supposed to be Will.

No, no, fuck no! I pound the table again, harder this time. This can’t be happening.

“She doesn’t have a motive,” I spit out. I push back from the table, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I know her. There’s no way she’s behind this.”

Colton is quiet, and that silence digs under my skin like a splinter. I turn to him, and I’m pretty sure my eyes are pleading for some sort of confirmation, something to prove that what I saw was a mistake. But Colton doesn’t give me the reassurance I’m desperate for. Instead, he walks over to his computer.

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