Page 16 of Can You Take It?

I take a steadying breath, forcing myself to step back mentally as well as physically. Pushing off the wall, I try to shake off thethoughts swirling in my head. This line we’re toeing? It’s too dangerous. I can’t let myself fall into it. I head for my room, needing a moment away from her, away from whatever the hell this is that keeps pulling me toward her.

As I step into my room, I let the door close behind me and glance around, hoping the familiar space will steady me. My eyes fall on the stack of papers on my desk—the reports I’ve been avoiding since Emily sent them. Anything to get my mind back on track.

I cross the room, sit down, and pick up the first page, flipping through the details on Izel. Her background checks out, at least on paper. She’s twenty-six, moved to this town just four months ago, and works as a freelancer. She used to live with her grandparents, nothing sketchy in her past, no run-ins with the FBI or any officials. So why the hell does she hate the FBI and officers so much?

I dig deeper, going through her schooling and all the details. Everything checks out, and even her health reports seem pretty damn normal. Nothing in her past screams trouble, but there’s something about her reaction to law enforcement that’s off. It’s like she’s got a personal vendetta, and I can’t figure out why.

I grab my phone and call Noah again. “Noah, when you get your hands on Izel’s phone, I want you to thoroughly investigate it. She was way too attached to it. I want to know every detail, every contact, every text.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get on it.”

I glance at the sketch artist’s report. “Any luck with the sketch?”

Noah’s response isn’t what I was hoping for. “Sorry, Rick, we don’t have a match yet.”

I mutter a curse under my breath and sit up straighter. “What about Izel’s background? You find anything sketchy?”

Noah’s silent for a second before responding, and I can already tell I’m not going to like his answer. “Nothing. She’s squeaky clean. Not even a fucking parking ticket. It’s almost suspicious how unsuspicious it is.”

“Yeah, figures.” It’s bugging me, though. “But get this—earlier, I told her about Lyla.”

There’s a pause on the line, and when Noah speaks again, he sounds genuinely surprised. “Since when do you talk about… you know, a closed case?”

I can hear the unspoken words—since when do you bring up Lyla? Hell, I don’t. I never fucking do.

“I had to gauge her reaction,” I say, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “She didn’t even know Lyla. Yet, she had so much emotion. She was hurt, angry as fuck, like I’d personally killed Lyla myself. And yet… she didn’t bat an eye over her own fucking roommate getting killed.”

“So, you’re saying she cared more about a girl she never knew than the one she lived with?”

“Exactly,” I mutter, standing up and pacing the room. “It’s almost like she saw her roommate’s death coming, like she expected it. And Lyla? She reacted like it hit her personally.”

“Are you suspecting that Izel was assaulted or something?”

I stop, staring out the window at the street below. “I think it’s possible. But we don’t have anything concrete yet. I need you to keep digging. There’s more to Izel than what’s on paper. I want every detail, Noah. Whatever you can find.”

“You got it,” he reassures. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Frustration creeps in as I disconnect the call. My eyelids are getting heavy, and I realize I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

I push everything aside and sink into the mattress. I know I need rest; my brain’s fried, and I can barely think straight. Sleep starts to take over, and I just hope that somewhere in mydreams, I’ll find the answers I need because that’s all I can think about. But as sleep pulls me in deeper, a pair of mismatched eyes haunts my thoughts, making it hard to shut my mind off.

I wake up after a much-needed rest and start getting ready for the day. It’s a relief to finally have some shuteye, but the weight of the case still lingers like a bad hangover. I’ve stationed two cops outside my place, and one is going to be inside, keeping an eye on Izel.

Noah knocks on the door, holding Izel’s phone like it’s a ticking time bomb. He hands it over, and I give him a nod of gratitude.

I walk out of my room and Izel emerges from hers, and fuck me, she looks like a walking fantasy. Barely-there shorts and a camisole that could make a priest question his faith. I mentally slap myself. She’s under my protection and observation, for crying out loud. These kinds of thoughts have no place here.

She’s yawning, and what creeps me out is that she didn’t have any trouble sleeping. Not that I’d want her to, but it’s just plain weird. She rubs her eyes, and something about her feels so innocent, even in that sexy getup.

Izel heads in my direction, and I’m doing my best to keep my gaze on her face and not let it wander, especially after what I saw last night.

“Morning,” she mumbles huskily.

I return the greeting with a curt nod. “Morning, Izel.”

I hand Izel her phone, and it’s clear she’s not expecting it. Her eyes dart from the phone to me, and she swallows hard.

“We tracked it,” I say casually, “about twenty minutes away from your room. Any reason it would be there?”

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